Muted light dissolving the night of dreams.
Through the panes, my panes, I see
Trees’ breath is misting the air
With hues of frosty white.
Our pond mirrors a face of solitude.
Wings throb the open sky,
Throbbing against my breast,
Echoing hollow in crispy air.
Scent of silence
Scent of memories
A desire deep is veiled
Seen only with eyes closed
Still alive in my nightly canopy of misty dreams.
I cast around for your tender smile
On my cheek yet distant, wafting in a celestial mind.
Scent of love
Scent of you
Entwine your mind with mine
Bring me a glowing pearl of your warmth
That I may wait for you
My lips smile at the sky
Praying you feel my love
In that pale morning light.
Scent of desire
Scent of a dream
In my pain
Fumie Fukuda, trans. George Opacic
Fumie had been a student who came from Japan to work through things that were troubling her. She had written this poem and others in Japanese using a particular form. While I knew some Japanese, we could never quite get the translation to the point where it had the power of the original. Fumie went back not long after competing her studies. I hope she has found peace. Not sure.
I recently had time to revisit the poem. This is as close as I can get to her intentions.
The river of time wears away who we were then.