目立たない一本のクスノキになって
ぼくは平和記念公園の片隅に立っている
ケータイを耳にあてて話す娘
デジカメをビルの残骸にむけて構える若い男
キャリーバックを引きずっていく老夫婦
その他大勢の見物客の雑音のうしろで
ぼくは静かに呼吸している
みじめに戦争に敗れたとき
ぼくははじめて元安川の右岸に立った
放射能は草も木も生やさないのか
満干する潮の流れを見つめ
藻のにおいが漂う空気のなかで育ってきた
何年かたって気がついたとき
ぼくは飛び立つ鳩の群れに見送られて
爆心地に近いここに移ってきた
人間の記憶がしだいに薄れていって
いまはだれもぼくを振り向きもしない
さっき ぼくを尻目に
タバコをポイ捨てしていった茶髪のチビは
どこの風来坊だろう
元安橋を渡って観光案内所へ消えていった
――ここへほかしちゃーいけん
ぼくの緑の葉は恐れおののき
ニコチンの火にいぶされて
樟脳の薄煙をあげている
目立たない一本のクスノキになって
日ごと相生通りの排気ガスを浴びても
ときには酸性雨に見舞われても
ぼくは枯れずにここに立っている
A Camphor Tree In Hiroshima
I am a camphor tree hardly noticed now by you.
I stand at the corner of Hiroshima Memorial Peace Park.
A young girl is chatting to the cellphone she holds to her ear.
A young man aims his digital camera at the historical remains.
An old man and his wife walk away dragging their wheeled bags.
And behind miscellaneous voices of many others
I am breathing quietly.
When we suffered a miserable defeat in the war,
At first I was up “on right-hand side”
On the eastern shore of the Motoyasu River.
Didn’t the radioactivity allow any trees or plants to grow?
Watching tidal currents
I grew up in the air smelling of floating algae.
After some years I realized
I had been moved to this place near the epicenter.
Flying doves saw me off.
Then your memories of me started to fade away.
Now nobody pays any attention to me.
Where is that vagabond from,
The short one with his hair dyed brown?
Some time ago taking no notice of me
He carelessly tossed away a cigarette butt.
Then crossing the bridge over the Motoyasu River
He disappeared near the tourist information center.
“Kokoe hokasicha iken!” *
My green leaves were so frightened,
Attacked by his nicotine fire,
They released pale camphor smoke.
I am a camphor tree now hardly noticed,
but you see,
Even though exposed to the exhaust gas of Aioi Street everyday,
Even though sometimes hit by acid rain,
Without withering, I will keep standing here.
* Kokoe hokasicha iken!; the Hiroshima dialect meaning “Don’t toss it away here.”