TendoTaijin (Poet・Reciter・Calligrapher)
Born in 1944 in Otaru-city, Hokkaido.
His published collections include: A World of Illusion (1981), The Azure Ring of Ezra Pound (1995), Great God, Kitchee Manitou (1997), Rosso di Maggio (1999), The Wind of Dakar (2005), The Snow of Picos de Europa (2015).
In July 1990, he attended a master class with Galina Vishnevskaya in Salzburg.
In March 2002, he held a solo voice performance at the Arena de Verona, Italy.
Since October 2006, he has produced 1,650 poetry performances in his Art performance project titled « Projet La Voix des Poètes » in Tokyo, Japan.
A member of the International Poetry Association of Africa since 2000, at present he is active in reviving the recitation of poetry and participates in festivals around the world, in such places as: Argentina (Buenos Aires, Rosario); Bangladesh (Dhaka); Benin (Cotonou); Colombia (Medellín); Cuba (Havana, Matanzas); France (Saint-Nazaire); Iran (Abadan, Tehran); Iraq (Babylon, Baghdad); Italy (Genoa, Florence, Pistoia, Verona); Madagascar (Antanabarivo); Mali (Bamako, Dogon); Mauritius (Port Louis); New Zealand (Wellington); Portugal (Aveiro); Réunion (Saint-Denis); Senegal (Dakar, Saint-Louis); South Korea (Pyeongchang, Seoul); Switzerland (Zurich); U.S.A. (Seattle, WA); Venezuela (Caracas); etc. Since 1990, each year he re-dedicates his voice to the god of the sea at Watazumi Shrine(Nagasaki-ken). He is presently a member of the Pen Club of Japan, and is renowned all over the world as a writer and reciter of poetry, a calligrapher, and an art critic.
臥したるドラゴンへのオード Ode to a Crouching Dragon
Tendo Taijin
臥したるドラゴン A crouching dragon
すなわち 天は虚ろに That is, under a hollow heaven
地は重く The earth is heavy
雲は空を満たし Clouds fill the sky
草木には露がしたたり Dew drips from the plants
渇きを癒す Healing thirst
日と月とは光をかくし The light of the sun and moon is hidden
民は不可解な The people look up at the sky
この冬の印を帯びた Tinged with the mysterious
空を見る Seal of winter
身動きしはじめるドラゴン The dragon begins to move its body
すなわち霧は瞬時に裂け That is to say, the fog suddenly breaks
滋養をもたらす陽光 The sunlight brings nourishment
光り増し The light increases
洩れなく地上を照らす Shining everywhere upon the earth
人々は得るべくもない The people long for spring
春を望み Which they cannot have
見たかのごとく欣喜する And are as happy as if they saw it
臥したるドラゴン The crouching dragon
鼻あらしを吹きつけながら 翔び立つ Snorts out storms and takes to flight
旗印したたる赤き The crimson-dripping horizon
地平は彼のもの Is his banner
風を前衛とし An avant-garde wind
豪雨を従者として Accompanies a heavy rain
そのするどき鞭 And that sharp whip—
すなわち稲妻のはじける音を浴びて The lightning—bathes all in rumbling reverberations
大地は希望に喜び笑う The earth rejoices and laughs with hope
臥したるドラゴン O crouching dragon
われら 何ものか What type of beings are we?
人知れず O, you unseen
まどろむ英雄よ！ Dozing hero!
今 いずこ Where are you now?
Transcending Time
Tendō Taijin
A . . . . . . . . .O . . . . . . . . .U . . . . . . . . .E . . . . . . . . .I
A . . . . . . . . .O . . . . . . . . .U . . . . . . . . .E . . . . . . . . .I
A . . . . . . . . .O . . . . . . . . .U . . . . . . . . .E . . . . . . . . .I
Left hanging on the nodes of time, today’s leftover voices
Gathering them together, they clear the ears
Following a thought
Far beyond the Tsushima Straights,
Wishing for a home,
Pulled into the Mongol invasion of Japan,
My weapon is lost, having killed innocent civilians with the art taught to me
The unseen voices that have continued to be stifled
Have communicated, communicated to unknown people;
Deep in the silent bay the ships proceed
Moving toward a dead end, continuing to release
The echoes of voices silenced since the dim past, now reborn
When it’s cloudy, a selfless heart arises
Asking the universe, while firing my voice into it,
Once again repeating the question anew,
Interweaving it as I go
In the wind blowing from the mainland that erases all,
Still the voices cannot be heard, but gradually a shape appears
From a torii (sacred gate) surrounded by the sea
時を超えて
天童大人
ア・・・・オ・・・・ウ・・・・エ・・・・イ
ア・・・・オ・・・・ウ・・・・エ・・・・イ
ア・・・・オ・・・・ウ・・・・エ・・・・イ
時の篩にかけられ 今日に残った声
拾い集め 耳を澄ます
思いを辿れば
対馬海峡から遥か遠くに
故国を望み
元寇の戦にかりだされ
器を失い伝える術を 絶たれた無辜の民たち
消され続けて来た見えない声を
人知れず伝え伝えて
静かな入江の奥に船を進め
行き止まりに向かって 放ちつづけ
古代から封じられた響く声 今に甦らせ
曇天の時 無私な心で立ち
宙に問いつづけながら 撃ち込む声
新たに重ね合わせ
織りこんで行くとき
大陸から吹きつけ かき消す風に
未だ聞こえぬ声 次第に姿現す
海中の一の鳥居から
https://lavoixdespoetes.exblog.jp/
難民島へ Refugee Island
天童 大人 Tendo Taijin
あの押し寄せる濁流のなか Within the muddy current pressing forth
流されて行く物は What is carried off by the flow—
あなたのもの 私のもの 誰かのもの Is it yours? Is it mine? Whose is it ?
誰でも無いものが It belongs to no one, but floats
連なって流れ 逃げ出している Together with the flow, escaping . . .
私のものあなたのものと思っていた What I thought was yours or mine
沢山の家財や家や車は Are many household goods, houses, cars—
漂流するただの粗大ゴミ Large drifting lumps of refuse and trash.
所有している “I owned them.”
所有できると信じていた “I believed that they were mine!”
モノや土地は But those things and even the land
瞬く間に 母なる大地に還った In the twinkling of an eye, returned to Mother Earth.
日々の営みの絆が一瞬で All the connections of day-to-day life, in an instant
幻と化したことを Were transformed into an illusion.
誰もがすぐには信じられなかった Nobody could believe it at first.
すでにこの島の海岸線は消えている The voices of those who warned that this island’s
と警告していた者の聲は消され続けて来たが Coastline would be erased were themselves erased,
本当に消されたのは 聞く耳を持たず But now what was really erased are those who
見える世界だけを信じていた者たち Heard not and only believed what they could see.
ただの避難なら 時間が解決し If it was just a matter of escaping, time would solve
元に戻ることも出来るかもしれない Things, maybe bringing everything back as before.
未だに止めることも出来ない But even now we cannot stop the constant spread of
拡散し続けている福島原発の放射性物質は Radioactive substances from Fukushima’s reactors
ただ累積していくだけ that only continue to accumulate
除染などただの気休め Decontamination is nothing more than a placebo.
洗い流した汚染水は And the contaminated water that they spilled forth,
何処へ流れゆくのか Where will it flow?
汚染された故郷には二度と戻れない “We cannot return to our contaminated villages.
いやもう生活出来ないのだ It’s awful! We can’t eke out a living!”
と誰もが言わない 言えない Nobody says such a thing. Nobody can.
世界から難民の受け入れを拒否してきた These small islands in the Far East that have
この極東の小さな島が Refused to accept refugees from around the world
難民島に変わったこと Have transformed into islands of refugees,
に いまだ誰も気がついてはいない Though until now no one has recognized that.
もし世界の雛型が この東洋の小さな島なら If the patter for the world is these small islands,
この世界はすでに瀕死の重傷 Then this world is already dying from a grave wound.
原始からの力を保つ Maintaining its power since Creation,
この星のマグマは This planet’s magma
時折 癇癪玉を破裂させ Sometimes explodes and blows its top,
瞬時に多くのモノを Instantly engulfing
繰り返しくりかえし Many
飲みこみ Over and over—
無言の警告を発し続けてきた A wordless warning that it continues to express.
この星の地表に住む者たちは Those that live upon the surface of this planet
今も好き勝手に Now just as they please
自然を破壊しつづけている Continue to destroy Nature.
この水の惑星に On this planet of water,
我々はいつまで For how much longer can we continue
安全に住み続けられるのか To live safely?
もう誰にもわからないのだ No one knows.
On One Kind of “Truth”
Tendo Taijin
On this small watery planet, how many people
Are searching for the Truth, are continuing to search,
And is there anyone among them who can say
“Any Truth you find will not be the only Truth”?
All people, each individually, alone, and by themselves-
Why does the “Truth” of more than 6.6billion people
continue to be ignored by Heaven,
While time slips idly by, simply passing away?
Transcending the color of skin or ethnicity, making borders disappear,
Sacrificing national profit,
Even though progress is slow, walking hand in hand,
Moving slowly forward- Who is preventing this?
Though the century changes, the confusion persists;
The gods we trust in our hearts-though we continue to praise them loudly,
Hunger and strife do not disappear,
And nowhere can the light of hope be seen. Why not?
In this world, though there are more representatives for gods
than the number of ethnicities,
If we cannot go beyond all conflict,
If we cannot save lives from hunger,
When “Light” of Truth can possibly shine?
Shall I ask it? When is the time of hope?
Standing before those who are starving and dying daily,
can anyone save them with weapons or words?
It is but a single person who asks, the power of the spirit of only one:
Where are they, those who can save us now?
Translated by Stephen Comee
一つの「真理」に
天童 大人
この小さな水の惑星の中、どれだけの人が
真理を求め、求め続け、
得られる真理は一つではない、と
誰が言う事が出来るのか？
全ての人、一人一人が特別な、唯ひとりの人
なら何故、その六十数億の「真理」が、天から無視され続け、
刻は無為にただ過ぎてきたのか？
皮膚の色、人種を超え、国境を消し去り、
国益を犠牲にし、
歩みが遅くとも、手と手とを携えて
進んで行く事を、誰が阻んで来たのか？
世紀が替わっても混乱は続き、
心の中に信じる神を、いくら強く敬い続けていても、
飢えや争いは無くならず、
何処にも光明が見えて来ないのは、何故なのか？
この世に神の代理人が人種の数以上いながら、
あらゆる争い事を超え、
飢餓からも、命を救えないのなら、
何処に真実の“光り”が輝いているのか？
訪れるであろうか？光明の刻は、
日々、飢え、死ぬ者たちを前に、武器や言葉で救えるのか？
問われているのはひとり、独りの心の力。
救える者は、今、何処におられるのか！
https://buenosairespoetry.com/tag/tendo-taijin/
ドゴン族の神 －アンマへ―
天童 大人
突き抜けきることが出来るであろうか、この晴天を
古代の宙には何が映し出され、
何が見えていたのか
ここの長老たちの沈んだ瞳は
無言のまま
断崖の上から、何を見、続けて来たのか
カメルーンの詩人に促され、
この広場の中央にいざなわれる時、
シリウス星雲から届いた透明の招待状
振り向けば、遥か遠く
地上に家々や蠢く人々が、米粒のごとくに見え、
目の前には座った数人の長老たちを中心に、数十人の村人たちが取り囲む
ここはアフリカ・マリ共和国
サンガ地方・バンジャガラ断崖の上
に住むドゴン族
ローマからの詩人の手から木の杖を借り、
膝を折り、石板を三度、撃つ！
地を這う低い場から、
アーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーと聲を撃ち始める
ここはあの夢にまで見たドゴン！
マルセル・グリオールの『青い狐』で、
知り得た古代ドゴンの世界
今もこの地の何処から
遥かシリウス星雲に
何かを伝えることが出来るのか
東洋からの詩人は聲を、唯、聲を撃ち込み続け
しわぶき、一つしない長老たちに向かって
この時とばかりに彼らの背後の神・アンマに向かって語り始めると
一陣の冷たい風が、頬に吹き付けられ
ここは何処と振り返る間もなく
「 キッキ マニトウ！」
「 キッキ マニトウ！」
「 キッキ マニトウ！」と三度、奉唱せり！
三年後、セネガル・ダカール空港に出迎えてくれたモロニの詩人
が、微笑みながら「ドゴンの長老たちはテンドウの聲を、完璧に理解した」
と教えてくれた
そこは遥か遠くコトバを自由に交わした「バベルの塔」以前
からの、神話が息づく世界だった。
To Amma, Guardian God of the Dogon People
by Tendō Taijin
I wonder if it can break through this clear blue sky—
Whatever was shining in the ancient firmament?
What was it that could be seen?
The sunken eyes of the elders here,
Wordless as ever,
From the top of a cliff, see something that seems to have survived. . . .
Encouraged by Cameroon poets
When I was invited into the center of this open space,
A transparent invitation arrived from the Sirian star system.
Turning around, way off in the distance,
Houses and wriggling people can be seen on the earth, like grains of rice,
Before the eyes, the elders sit in the center of a few dozen tribesmen who surround them.
This is Africa, the Republic of Mali,
The Sangha region, Bandiagara, atop the escarpment,
Where the Dogon people live.
Borrowing wooden staves from poets who had come from Rome,
With bended knees, three times they strike the stone slab,
From a low position, like crawling on the earth,
Their voices begin to resound: “A-a-a- – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – a-h!
The ancient world of the Dogon I learned about
In Marcel Griaule’s Pale Fox—
These are the people I have dreamed of seeing—the Dogon!
Even now, somewhere upon this earth,
Can anything still be passed down
About the distant star system of Sirius?
The voice of an Asian poet—who?—his voice continues to resound,
Without a single clearing of his throat, he turns toward the elders—
As he turns this time to face their guardian god, Amma,
A gust of cool wind caresses his cheeks.
Where is this? He turns around and soon intones:
“Kitchee Manitou!”
“Kitchee Manitou!”
“Kitchee Manitou!” three times offering his voice.*
Three years later, a Moroni poet who saw him off at Senegal’s Dakar airport,
With a gentle smile, told him: “At that time, the Dogon elders
Perfectly comprehended what you said.”
It was a world in which one could converse in Divine words,
When languages from distant lands could be understood with ease, like before the time of the Tower of Babel.
Translated by Stephen Comee
on Mt. Koya, Japan’s sacred peak
* Kitchee Manitou, also spelled Kitchi-Manitou, is the Creator God of the Algonquian nations of North America. The Anishinaabe (Ojibwa or Chippewa) people, Longfellow’s source, spell it Gichi-Manidoo, and the term means “Great Spirit.”
http://universalvoice.air-nifty.com/
Tendo Taijin Anillo Azul De Ezra Pound – Poesía Japonés
Tendo Taijin with great Ida Vitale in Buenos Aires
