E-ChristinaRossetti

MY FAVOURITE FOREIGN POEM

　　　　 < If you go to my comments dated 24th June and 8th July, 2007 of "JAPAN-BRITISH EXCHANGE BLOG", you can see photos marked (*), below.>

Lots of jonquils were in bloom under the cherry blossoms sparkling in pink and white, but I can't part with my thick
overcoat. March is still winter to me. Wandering from Covent Garden tube station in London, my favourite pub "THE CROSS
KEYS"(*) was coming into view. Turning right from there, going into Betterton Street, you can see a cafe (*) owned by
The Poetry Society which has a history of nearly 100 years. In the basement of this cafe, events in connection with modern
poems take place almost every day. Today's event is poetry reading and nearly 50 people with different nationalities and
ages were gathered like a racial melting pot. I sat down after introducing myself to the MC of this event saying that I'm
a member living in Japan who came to London and dropped by here. It seemed that the order for reading hadn't been decided
yet. Looking around carefully, a little more than half were women.
Come to think about it, nowadays women can do writing work freely, but in the Victorian Age of the 19th century, they
weren't allowed to write a novel at all. Although the era gave them a great deal of restrictions, Christina
Rossetti(1834-94)(*)was actively involved as a professional poet. Thinking of such a thing, the MC who remembered me
suddenly asked me to give a reading of some poetry, so I read one of Christina's poems.

SEASONS 　by Christina Rossetti
translated by Yuri Aoyama

In Springtime when the leaves are young,
Clear dewdrops gleam like jewels, hung
On boughs the fair birds roost among.

When Summer comes with sweet unrest,
Birds weary of their mother’s breast,
And look abroad and leave the nest.

In Autumn ere the waters freeze,
The swallows fly across the seas:-
If we could fly away with these !

In Winter when the birds are gone,
The sun himself looks starved and wan,
And starved the snow he shines upon.

Speaking of Christina, "Who has seen the wind ?" and "Goblin Market" are well known, but my favourite poem is this one describing English
seasons.
July and August are regarded as summer in the U.K. as well, but unlike Japan the sunlight is mild and I always find the ultimate in comfortableness.
The wedding season is approaching its peak. The sunlight at night is filled with noel sparkling. However, such a season with the bright nights is short,
and in due course the autumnal cold air comes to tickle my skin from the opening left by the full-blown hydrangeas. Autumn it may be, but it isn't
clearly marked off from other seasons unlike Japan. I'd rather say that I doubt the existence of autumn itself at the back of my mind. That's because
I used to put on my winter coat as soon as September comes when I stayed there. During the long-lasting winter season, the sky with leaden gray
clouds plays the leading role and after 3pm it's already getting darker. Therefore, nothins is more precious than the joy that spring has come.
On my way back, passing by in front of my favourite pub, such a lot of English men and women were standing and drinking beer and were overflowing
out of the pub. In despite of such a cold weather, spring has come to them.

The Rossetti's house