retrospec | (no subject)

Koutarou Takao

12/8 near Birch Hills

“Chieko died and returned
to the home she so longed for.
In the dead of an October night
I clean and purify the empty studio,
sweep the dust from a small corner
and softly lay Chieko down.
I stand lost
before this single body.
Someone turns a screen around.
Someone lights candles and incense.
Someone makes up Chieko.
Others take care of these things.
Night brightens, day darkens,
everywhere grows crowded.
The house is buried in flowers,
as if this were someone else's funeral.
Then somehow Chieko is no longer there.
I stand alone in the dark studio
while some say an exquisite moon is just outside.”

I received the drafts, from first to final, of this poem, from Retrospec. It’s called Bleak Homecoming and is dated June, 1941. As it was written in my handwriting, and I know who Chieko was - the other me’s wife - I’m assuming that the other me was the one who wrote this poem. I translated it to try to deal with my feelings regarding it, and I might be doing the same by posting it here... I don't entirely know, to be honest.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Art as a method of coping with pain is significant and understandable. But I suppose the question is, after all that you've seen, do you understand or feel the pain your other self experienced? Is it empathy, sympathy? Or something else entirely? I wish I could understand, myself... my other self was merely a tool, after all.

I feel it, very strongly. Both empathy and sympathy. If I had not remembered bits and pieces about her this past year, I probably wouldn't be as emotional about it as I am.

Perhaps so, but you can have your own experiences that won't be affected by those of the other you, in those regards. Though that might not be only an advantage.

An emotional understanding of our other selves is paramount to understand our current situation. A spiritual coming-to-terms. Advantage or not, it is necessary, I think.

Do you think so? I suppose that it is useful to be able to come to terms with the memories that appear in our minds.

Precisely. At times like these, the humanities are paramount.

Indeed. It might make things more complicated at times though.

-...-

Yes. Indeed.