Awakening on winter mornings

冬の朝のめざめ 冬の朝なれば ヨルダンの川も薄(うす)く氷(こお)りたる可(べ)し われは白き毛布に包まれて我が寝室(ねべや)の内にあり 基督(キリスト)に洗礼(せんれい)を施(ほどこ)すヨハネの心を ヨハネの首を抱きたるサロオメの心を 我はわがこころの中に求めむとす 冬の朝なれば街(ちまた)より つつましくからころと下駄(げた)の音も響くなり 大きなる自然こそはわが全身の所有(しょゆう)なれ しづかに運(めぐ)る天(てん)行(こう)のごとく われも歩む可(べ)し するどきモツカの香りは よみがへりたる精霊(せいれい)の如(ごと)く眼をみはり いづこよりか室(へや)の内にしのび入る われは此(こ)の時 むしろ数理(すうり)学者(がくしゃ)の冷静(れいせい)をもて 世人(せじん)の形(かたちづ)くる社会の波動(はどう)にあやしき因(いん)律(りつ)のめぐるを知る 起きよ我が愛人よ 冬の朝なれば 郊外の家にも鵯(ひよどり)は夙(つと)に来(き)鳴(な)く可(べ)し わが愛人は今くろき眼を開(あ)きたらむ をさな児のごとく手を伸ばし 朝の光りを喜び 小鳥の声を笑ふならむ かく思ふとき 我は堪(た)へがたき力の為(た)めに動かされ 白き毛布を打ちて 愛の頌歌(ほめうた)をうたふなり 冬の朝なれば こころいそいそと励(はげ)み　 また高くさけび 清らかにしてつよき生活をおもふ 青き琥珀(こはく)の空に 見えざる金粉(きんぷん)ぞただよふなる ポインタアの吠(ほ)ゆる声とほく来(きた)れば ものを求むる我が習癖(しゅうへき)はふるひ立ち たちまちに又わが愛人を恋(こ)ふるなり 冬の朝なれば ヨルダンの川に氷を噛(か)まむ （1912年11月）

Awakening on winter mornings   On winter mornings Even the River Jordan must be covered in  a thin layer of ice Wrapped up in my white blanket There in my bedroom I imagine how John the Baptist felt As he baptized Christ I imagine how Salome felt As she held John’s severed head On winter mornings, the sound of wooden clogs Echoes steadily from the street I am a part of the immensity of nature Like the silently rotating constellations I too must get going And getting up The sweet smell of mocha Wafts into my room from somewhere Like a spirit reborn, eyes wide awake And with an almost mathematical precision I realize that there are strange rhythms Like waves in human society Oh, wake up, my love On winter mornings Songbirds are sure to be singing outside your suburban home And, my love has surely opened her dark eyes by now Stretching her arms like an innocent child Enjoying the beautiful morning sunlight, I imagine her smiling as she listens to the songbirds singing And seized by this moment Tapping on my white blanket I sing a hymn to love On winter mornings My heart is full And I shout for joy A pure and good life this is The haze appears as gold dust Across these blue amber skies Then, as an English pointer begins barking in the distance My usual bad habit arouses And before long, I am yearning for my beloved again On winter mornings I bite into the ice on the River Jordan November 1912