昨日の詩の本歌

茶渋とヘソの緒

訳すのは無理とあきらめて原文の一部を載せる。



	The Soul in the Bowl

				Caroline Finkelstein
In the clay, in the grey 

cool slip of the bed 

of the creek, in a marriage

of water and matter, 

it was formless--
（中略）
but the potter's empty hands 

wrung with discontent 

and the hard burning kiln 

wanted 

something to anneal-
when I Iook into my child's 

face, I see 

fine lines like writing 

and like fracture. 

('The Soul in the Bowl', Poetry, Volume 156, June 1990, Page 150)
私のはこの詩への変奏曲。