Showing posts with label Brief Letters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brief Letters. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

This Thing Called Love

Japan’s Best “Short Letters of Love” is next in my tribute to a series of short letters, letters which might be described as communicating a brief message from the heart. Earlier posts here have introduced other letters about hometown, friendship and Dad. For my money, the topic of today’s five brief statements, or ‘letters’ is the most difficult of all feelings to nail down — love. In a book that attempts to impart some of the meaning of that very difficult concept, the preface puts it well: ‘In such bewilderment, we encounter words clothed in different forms that change what is being said, usually to make the short letter more effective—although the thoughts to be communicated may not necessarily become stronger.’ The writer of this preface goes on to say that there was some worry in the beginning that letters so full of personal nuance in Japanese would change and become different in the translation. I, for one, think their worries were for naught.


Waiting again tonight for a call.

With my hand on the receiver.

Just waiting.

Miyuki Doi (F. 36)


It isn’t France that is so far away.

It’s that my heart cannot reach

your heart that is so far away.

Akiko Matsunaga (F. 27)


“I love you” is serious talk.

I think I’ll put it aside till I’m older.

Takashi Ouchi (M. 14)


Who understands me

better than anyone, better than anything

but you, my stray dog.

Manami Matsumura (F. 34)


Much harder than not being able to

see you,

Is that your smile no longer comes

floating to mind.

Risa Yamamoto (F. 18)


The very sensitive English translations are once more the work of Patricia J. Wetzel, assisted by Shunichi Mitani in matters of cultural context.


For anyone interested in earlier letters in this series, you will find examples below:

Hometown — “Home in the Heart”

Friends — “There For You”

Dad — “This One’s for Dad”

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

This One’s For Dad

In two previous posts here, I have introduced short letters expressing personal feelings toward friends or friendship, and feelings about one’s hometown. This time I want to introduce five short letters written on the theme of ‘Dad.’ I mentioned previously that these books of short letters are part of a series which include thoughts about home, family, friends and humanity that are common to everyone everywhere. In the introduction to Japan’s Best “Short Letters to Dad” I learned that the publishers were not expecting a large number of submissions for this volume, thinking that in Japan the father figure might be ‘only a flimsy creature.’ What could they mean by that? In the traditional sense, the father figure in Japan is seen as someone who is away from home most of the time, leaving early, returning late at night, spending his time as a ‘company man’ toiling on behalf of the family at home. It is true that this image is changing (has changed to some extent already) and that in many Japanese families Papa is a vital presence. But let’s see what five different people had to say in a letter to their father.


The beer that Dad left in his glass

was like a little of his life left behind,

making me feel lonesome.

Noboru Okubo (M. 29)


Dad,

Maybe, though we don’t seem to have a

lot in common,

we have a lot in common.

Yukari Morinaga (F. 15)


The only conversation we have

Is over baseball on television.

So, “Go Dragons!”

Hiroki Yada (M. 14)


To my jokester father

Who is always trying to make me laugh:

I don’t get it.

Chikako Tanaka (F. 16)


The carpentry tools you left as

keepsakes,

My son is now using.

Just wanted you to know.

Kiyoko Matsuda (F. 43)


Once again, credit to Patricia J. Wetzel for the English translations. As is apparent in these five brief letters, very often a ‘non-writer’ is able to hit a note, or express a feeling in the most effortless way, and that feeling rings poignantly true.

About Me

My photo
Oak Hill, Florida, United States
A longtime expat relearning the footwork of life in America