Thursday, 22 March 2012
Saturday, 10 March 2012
3.11
東日本大震災から一年。
津波で失われた多くの尊い命、 流されたかけがいのない人々の生活に今思いを馳せます。
福島原発事故により、土地も思い出も暮らしも将来の計画も,すべてを失った人々のことを思います。
放射能に汚染された土、水、海、生き物たち。
私たちは広島、長崎の経験を持つ唯一の被爆国でありながら、 原子力の恐ろしさを大いに痛感しながら
戦後の原子力開発に妥協しそして大いに頼り、 そして一年前の福島原発事故をある意味人為的に引き起こしました 。
原子力開発・発電・核兵器開発に今まで以上に反対し、 核エネルギーに頼ってきた現代生活を見直し、
これからの将来、次の世代が放射能におびえることなく生きていける世界を残していけるように
今日もまた新たな誓いを立てたいと思います。
黙祷
3.11
A year anniversary from Tohoku earthquake and tsunami.
My sincere prayer goes towards those who lost their life in Tsunami, those life swept away by Tsunami.
My sincere prayer goes towards those who lost their life in Tsunami, those life swept away by Tsunami.
those who have lost their living, memories, lands and the future plans by Fukushima Nuclear disaster.
My prayer goes towards the contaminated nature,
and all those who are living each day fully despite the constant fear from yet unknown radio active contamination.
Japan has the most unforgettable experiences of Nagasaki and Hiroshima,
known the effect of nuclear power and yet,
we have let the nuclear power engineering to develop,, deeply depended on it and
eventually allowed Fukushima nuclear disaster to happen on us.
Today I renew my vow to say 'No' to nuclear power,
actively seek the alternative life style, and continuously search my own vocation
in order to leave this earth without any fear of nuclear power to us and to the next generation.
Prayer
Friday, 9 March 2012
Friday, 2 March 2012
Friday, 17 February 2012
一番恐ろしいこと。
インド旅行記などでよく書かれているけれど、
まさか実際そんなことはないだろ…、と思っていたこと。
それは本当に本当でした。
インドで一番恐ろしいものは(今のところ)、犬!
もちろん素敵な犬もたくさんいるけれど、恐ろしい犬と出会う率の方が最高に高い。
私は村の中を自転車で行ったりきたりするのですが、恐ろし犬達は本気で吼えながら、牙をむきながら、自転車と同じスピードで追いかけてきます。しかも3匹、4匹と。
ここで自転車で転んだりでもしたら、本気でかみつかれて死ぬんだろうな…といつも思いながら行く一見のどかな田舎道。いつもこの場面では、あー東京の両親はどうやってニュースを受け取るんだろう…イギリスの友達にはちゃんと伝えてくれるかな…というとんでもない妄想が広がってあんまり生きた心地がしない。
でもまあ慣れるもんだ、人間。
当初は木の枝を手に持ちながらいくと逃げる…と言われ何回か実践したけど何しろでこぼこ田舎道なので自転車のバランスを取るのが大変。スピードを上げるとさらに躍起になって追いかけられる。そして試行錯誤の末に得たこつは…
何もしない。
自転車のスピードを緩めるでもなく、早めるでもなく、怒鳴るでもなく、和解をもとめるでもなく
ただひたすら無視して行くと、まあ15秒ぐらいであきらめてくれます。
悟りを開く境地で…。とインド人の友達に説明したら、現実そんな生易しくない…。本気で気をつけて、と諭されました。でも今のところこの方法が一番効果的です。
ちなみに写真の犬は老犬忠犬コエラ君。よくヨガポーズをとりながら昼寝。
私は学校に行くときには必ずついてきてくれる、頼もしい友。
そして私がトイレに行くとじっと眺めてくるカエル達。
Friday, 10 February 2012
deep drown in the books
Drawing by Ted Hughes
Drawing calms you. Your poker infernal pen
Was like a branding iron. Objects
Suffered into their presence, tortured
Into final position. As you drew
I felt released, calm. Time opened
When you drew the market at Benidorm.
I sat near you, scribbling something.
Hours burned away. the stall-keepers
Kept coming to see you had them properly.
We sat on those steps, in our rope-soles,
And were happy. Our tourist novelty
Had worn off, we knew our own ways
Through the town's runs. We were familiar
Foreign objects. When he'd sold his bananas
The banana seller gave us a solo
Violin performance on his banana stalk.
Everybody crowded to praise your drawing.
You drew doggedly on, arresting details,
Till you had the whole scene imprisoned.
Here is it. You rescued for ever
Our otherwise lost morning. Your patience,
Your lip-gnawing scowl, got the portrait
Of a market-place that still slept
In the Middle Ages. Just before
It woke and disappeared
Under the screams of a million summer migrants
And the cliff of dazzling hotels. As your hand
Went under Heptonstall to be held
By endless darkness. While my pen travels on
Only two hundred miles from your hand,
Holding this memory of your red, white-spotted bandanna,
Your shorts, your short-sleeved jumper -
One of the thirty I lugged around Europe -
And your long brown legs, propping your pad,
And the contemplative calm
I drank from your concentrated quiet,
In this contemplating calm
Now I drink from your stillness that neither
Of us can disturb or escape.
Drawing calms you. Your poker infernal pen
Was like a branding iron. Objects
Suffered into their presence, tortured
Into final position. As you drew
I felt released, calm. Time opened
When you drew the market at Benidorm.
I sat near you, scribbling something.
Hours burned away. the stall-keepers
Kept coming to see you had them properly.
We sat on those steps, in our rope-soles,
And were happy. Our tourist novelty
Had worn off, we knew our own ways
Through the town's runs. We were familiar
Foreign objects. When he'd sold his bananas
The banana seller gave us a solo
Violin performance on his banana stalk.
Everybody crowded to praise your drawing.
You drew doggedly on, arresting details,
Till you had the whole scene imprisoned.
Here is it. You rescued for ever
Our otherwise lost morning. Your patience,
Your lip-gnawing scowl, got the portrait
Of a market-place that still slept
In the Middle Ages. Just before
It woke and disappeared
Under the screams of a million summer migrants
And the cliff of dazzling hotels. As your hand
Went under Heptonstall to be held
By endless darkness. While my pen travels on
Only two hundred miles from your hand,
Holding this memory of your red, white-spotted bandanna,
Your shorts, your short-sleeved jumper -
One of the thirty I lugged around Europe -
And your long brown legs, propping your pad,
And the contemplative calm
I drank from your concentrated quiet,
In this contemplating calm
Now I drink from your stillness that neither
Of us can disturb or escape.
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