鳥居一頼のこころおきなく英語版

In a country where hope seems absent, it is not children who have failed the future, but adults who have failed to show it.   This poem does not condemn children for their silence or defiance. Instead, it turns a steady gaze toward adults who could not guide, and toward children who nonetheless continue to live, think, and move forward.   It is a quiet testament to resilience— and a belief that even in a nation stripped of hope, each child can still become light.   To the Children Born in a Country Without Hope     Adults cannot show the way, adults cannot set an example, adults cannot speak of reason.   Children cannot talk with friends, children cannot discuss what matters, children cannot even draw their dreams.   Adults chase profit, adults grasp at desire, adults abandon virtue.   Children do not trust adults, children do not imitate adults, children resist adults.   Adults cann...

What does it really mean to be a teacher? Seen through a child’s eyes, the answer is far from simple. This poem gathers the honest questions children hesitate to voice— questions about authority, trust, learning, morality, and hope. Not accusations, but quiet inquiries that ask adults to listen more deeply and to reconsider what it means to guide, to teach, and to be worthy of trust. What Kind of Person Is a Teacher? What kind of person is a teacher, anyway? Why are they called “teachers”? Mom says, Listen to what your teacher says. But why do we have to obey them? They’re not always right, you know. We’re told not to fight with friends. Why does the teacher rush us to make up? I want them to hear both sides of what happened. “You’ll understand when you grow up,” they say. Why do teachers always dodge the question? We want to know what we must do now . I can’t keep up with my studies and get left behind. So why do teachers say teaching is their job? Every child learns in a different wa...

Aging is not only the decline of the body, but the slow accumulation of fatigue, sorrow, and unspoken longing. For those living with constant care—both those cared for and those who care— time can feel heavy, and hope fragile. This poem gives voice to that quiet struggle, where resignation and yearning coexist, and where the heart, though worn, still seeks calm at the end.   “ Ah, Thus I Grow Old ”   Ah, thus I grow old. My eyes grow dim—letters blur beneath a veil of haze. Sounds fade and weaken, words scatter into the empty air. My mind no longer clears; thoughts cloud and lose their shape.   Ah, thus I grow old. I wish my heart would not wither, but still be able to feel. I wish my heart would not dry up, but remain moist with life. I wish my heart would not grow hoarse, but flow smoothly still.   Ah, thus I grow old. Anger rises often. Tears come from time to time. Regret is frequent. Hesitation is never absent. ...

War exposes the fragility of peace and the cruelty of power. Yet even as violence dominates headlines, there are people who quietly choose another path— to learn from history, to care for daily life, and to stand beside those in need. This poem bears witness to an unending war and, at the same time, affirms the resolve of community workers who dedicate themselves to building happiness not through force, but through solidarity.   “ Partners in Building Happiness ”   At the end of February 2022, Russia suddenly invaded Ukraine. Four full years have passed, and the war still continues. To gain advantage in ceasefire talks, Russia does not loosen its attacks. The arrogance of trampling an independent nation by violence has spread even to the United States. Law and justice yield to the logic of the strong, and the world is exposed to a dangerous disorder. Each time tragic news reports the loss of innocent lives, those who know war tightly clench th...

There comes a time when what once felt natural begins to falter. Tasks take longer, memories slip, and patience from others grows thin. This poem does not ask for sympathy, nor does it offer easy comfort. It simply gives voice to the quiet indignity of being measured, hurried, and blamed—when all that has changed is the passage of time.   “ It ’ s All Right Not to Be Able ”   Being hurried— the anxiety of things that must be done. The frustration of what once could be done but now cannot. The irritation of being made to do things.   Being tested— the anger of being forced to prove what you can do. The resentment of what you can no longer do. The resignation that says it ’ s all right not to be able.   Being blamed— the shame of being known as unable. The pain of being known as diminished. The defiance that says, so what if I can ’ t?   Why is it that simply because one has grown old, one must be hurried, te...

There are moments in childhood when the world needs no explanation. Light, body, and imagination meet without effort, and play becomes a way of discovering the self. This poem captures such a fleeting instant— where a child, his shadow, and the spring sun share a quiet, joyful conversation.   “ Playing with Shadows ”   The spring sun still hangs high. With the light at his back, a long shadow stretches out. A boy in short sleeves plays with the image it casts. He spreads his legs, then lifts one foot. Not freely, like kung fu, but moving arms and legs, he enjoys the changes all by himself.   The spring sun envelops the boy. The shadow insists on being another self. A self grown long and large, extended across the ground. For a moment, seeing himself look so fine, the boy smiled.

Not all words are meant to be spoken. Some are held back out of care, fear, distance, or hope— tucked away in the brief silence before speech. This poem listens closely to that moment, where meaning is weighed not only by what is said, but by what is deliberately kept inside.   “ Words We Tuck Away ”   Reading the other ’ s expression, preparing before words are spoken— there are words we tuck away.   Finding the right distance between us, taking a breath before speaking— there are words that must be tucked away.   Sensing a wall between us, bracing ourselves before speaking— we clothe ourselves in words kept inside.   Entrusting ourselves to the other, feeling relief before speaking— we shave down the words that had been tucked away.   Knowing the sadness of currying favor, fawning before speaking— we swallow the words that cannot be tucked away.   There is something we want the other to ...

To live without lingering concerns—how peaceful that sounds. Yet the longer we live, the more thoughts remain unfinished, the more ties bind us gently and painfully at once. This poem does not promise serenity. Instead, it sits beside uncertainty and asks whether living fully in the present might be the closest we ever come to peace.   “ With No Lingering Concerns ”   If one could live with no lingering concerns, how happy that would be.   As life grows longer, unfinished thoughts quietly accumulate.   If there were no worries left behind, how calm the heart might be.   To live without regret is impossible. The moment we feel safe, we find ourselves staring into an abyss.   Even to remain free of anxiety in this present moment is difficult. There is no certainty in the life of tomorrow.   If one could live with nothing to worry about, how unsatisfying life might become.   Without ...

To the young who stand at the threshold of their lives, words can become both shelter and compass. This poem is a blessing spoken softly yet firmly— an invitation to live with courage, tenderness, and purpose, and to walk the world not alone, but together.   “ Live Together — To My Four Young Grandchildren ”   Bathe your whole being in the light that pours down upon the earth. Feel the surge of your soul standing at a single point in the vast universe. Carve open a future of hope unobstructed by fear.   Nurture an unyielding will and turn knowledge into strength. Offer your heart to the nameless flowers that bloom by the roadside. In this impermanent world, build a treasury of love and store within it your burning aspirations.   Only by pouring all your wisdom and strength into the realization of your dreams will you become one who truly creates living. In a world filled with wonder, be one who walks forward now ...

Words are never neutral. Even when spoken lightly, they can carry intentions we refuse to acknowledge. This poem listens to what slips into language unnoticed— the malice that disguises itself as humor, carelessness, or pleasure— and asks us to recognize how easily trust is eroded when we fail to examine what we let our words carry.   “ Malice That Slips In ”   The mouth is the source of calamity. Is it forgiven if one says, “ It was just a joke ” ? No thought is given to how the other might feel.   The mouth is the source of calamity. Is it excusable if there was no malicious intent? No effort is made to truly consider the other.   With a single word, good and evil shift. The wickedness hidden in the heart is released. Envy and jealousy. Twisting resentment, wounded pride. Teasing and cruelty. Covetous longing, dissatisfaction, anger. Inferiority, humiliation, revenge. Superiority, contempt, disdain. And then— ...

When children struggle, it is not always because the world is too difficult— sometimes it is because the adults around them have become untrustworthy. This poem listens closely to the unspoken questions children hold, and turns a quiet but piercing gaze toward the responsibility of grown-ups. It is not an accusation shouted aloud, but a mirror held steadily in place.   “ Children in Distress ”   What wrongs have you done to children? One excuse gives rise to another injustice. One lie spreads corruption after corruption. One act of insincerity breeds mistrust again and again.   Children reject adults who are dull and empty. With the words, “ You ’ re just a child, ” newly born doubts are smoothed over and dismissed. Words that are spoken fail to reach the heart. An intimidating attitude seeks nothing but obedience.   Children do not admire adults. Adults who are egoists, unfit to be role models. Adults who are too ugly to b...

As time passes, memory inevitably fades. Some things soften with age, some are mercifully forgotten, and some must never be diluted—no matter how distant they seem. This poem reflects on what time may be allowed to erode, and what must be preserved with unwavering clarity, especially when the desire for peace is at stake.   “ Must Not Be Diluted ”   Things that fade— the pale memories of childhood.   Things that do not fade— the kindness once received from others.   Things we wish would fade— painful experiences.   Things that can only fade— unconscious forgetting.   Things we hope to dilute— the many failures we have made.   Things we are forced to dilute— the stains upon a life.   Things that must not be diluted— concern for society and human compassion.   Things that must not be weakened— anger and the capacity for critique.   Things that must never be diluted— the hi...

When truth is silenced, direction is lost. A compass that no longer points to truth does not merely mislead—it endangers lives, futures, and the moral fabric of society. This poem confronts a world governed by distorted values and fear, and asks what must be recovered so that direction, dignity, and responsibility may return. It is a call not to anger, but to discernment.   “ The Deranged Compass ”   “ Speak the truth. Speak only the truth. Speak the whole truth. ” — Carl von Clausewitz, On War   Those without wisdom rise while making light of life. Those without justice reign by falsifying truth. Those without compassion boast of brutality like wild beasts. Those who cower govern through severe punishment. Those who compel slaughter legitimize absurd wars. Those without tolerance deny humanity itself, relentlessly.   By rulers steeped in falsehood, the world is drenched in shame. By despots of distorted values, the world i...

Leadership is not merely the act of guiding others forward. It is the responsibility of discerning what must change, what must endure, and what must be newly created—while carrying trust, hope, and compassion across generations. This poem speaks to those who inherit such responsibility, inviting them to lead not by force, but by inner strength, humility, and shared resolve.   “ Becoming One Who Carries Aspiration and Trust ”   We must make clear what must be done now, without delay. We must share the monument of our vows with those who act from the heart. We must discern what must remain unchanged, what must change, and what must be transformed. A gentle leader who values harmony must discipline oneself with the strength of one ’ s inner core.   In a sincere stance that faces reality head-on, and in a bold spirit that dares to challenge the new, feel the resolve of one who inherits the verse of gentle countenance and loving ...

There are moments when the heart trembles without reason, when emotions rise and fall before thought can name them. This poem does not ask us to control such movement, but to listen to it—patiently, honestly, and without resistance. In the gentle sway of the heart, we may discover both the weight of living and the strength that sustains it.   As the Heart Trembles   As the heart trembles, it is good to let yourself be carried by it. As the heart trembles, it is good to yield— to stop resisting and be honest. As the heart trembles, it is good to wait quietly until it settles.   Only because the heart trembles do we hesitate before living. Only because the heart trembles do we feel the anguish of living. And because the heart trembles, we come to thirst for life itself.   Each day, we take joy in the heart ’ s trembling— a barometer of truly being alive. Each day, we restrain the heart ’ s trembling— a barometer o...

We often explain failure with hindsight: we could not foresee it, we were unprepared, we misjudged. Yet beneath those words lies a deeper question—what does it truly mean to be prepared? This poem traces the many shades of “not knowing,” and asks whether preparation is less about prediction, and more about the cultivation of people, judgment, and responsibility before a crisis arrives. Prepared in Advance We did not foresee it— how we should respond to this situation. Even the preparations for it were delayed. We could not predict it— how this situation should be handled. We had not a single experience to rely upon. We could imagine it— what kind of outcome this situation might bring. Yet we had no measures to prevent its harm. We sensed it— how this situation might be avoided. But we were far too inexperienced to grasp even the direction. Our forecasts proved wrong— how we had invited this situation. Our judgment was dangerously naïve. We should have...

There are moments when life seems to lose its color. Not in a dramatic collapse, but in a slow, almost unnoticed fading— of feeling, of meaning, of desire.   This poem traces that quiet dulling of the heart, and listens carefully for the faint stirring that follows. It is not a cry of despair, but a record of waiting— for something within to move again, for words to return, for hope to take its first breath.   Fading Colors   My heart does not stir— a sense of decadence born of illusions. My heart does not leap— a sense of stagnation born of constraint. My heart is not drawn— a sense of decline born of mere technique.   Colors begin to fade: a sluggish everyday landscape, tasteless, colorless hours, a pattern of listless emotions.   When the heart does not move, idleness becomes a source of shame. When the heart does not dance, vitality slips away. When the heart is not drawn, sensibility grows dull. ...

To live as one ’ s heart inclines is not an escape from society, but a way of standing gently within it. This poem traces a quiet discipline— freedom without arrogance, kindness without display, and a life guided not by noise, but by conscience.   Living as the Heart Inclines   Without being shunned by others, without feeling obliged to them, it is good to live as the heart inclines.   Without showing off to the world, without reading the air of society, it is good to think as the heart inclines.   Without provoking envy in others, without awakening their jealousy, it is good to live as the heart inclines.   Even when troubled by society, even when burdened by its meddling, it is good to receive it as the heart inclines.   So as not to invite another ’ s resentment, so as not to sow another ’ s envy, it is good to discipline oneself as the heart inclines.   Attentive eyes for the young, cons...

This poem is written for children who carry dreams within them, and for those who wish to stand nearby as those dreams are woven. It does not rush toward outcomes, but lingers in gentleness, trust, and the quiet courage of growing up.   To the Children Who Weave Their Dreams   I want to wander in the dream worlds of children. I want to lose myself in the soft worlds they imagine. I want to be wrapped in worlds of kindness and rest.   Children who pursue unfulfilled dreams overcome fragility, becoming wanderers— travelers on a journey of dreams.   They place a single drop of dream upon the palm of their hand, eyes shining as they gaze toward tomorrow. Without fear, they fix their eyes ahead. Dignified, wholesome, living fully in the present. So that not one child will abandon their dream, I want to protect the precious lives and hearts of children.   The joy of living is but a fragment of a dream. Leapin...

To live with children is to be continually asked who we are becoming. Through their presence, we are called to protect life, to imagine tomorrow, and to act with humanity—both personally and collectively.   Living with Children   Living with children— taught by them, we learn the path of being human; trusted by them, we walk that path as human beings.   Children live— their lives must be protected by us as human beings; their tomorrows must be created by us as a society.   Living with children— in their gaze, our human ethics are called into question; in their gaze, our human compassion is called into question.   Children live— the dreams they hold, we wish to nurture as human beings; the environments in which they learn, we wish to secure as a society.   Living with children— their aspirations must never be reduced to nothing by us as human beings; their aspirations must never be betrayed by us as human b...

This poem portrays the inner collapse of self-worth caused by bullying— not through visible violence alone, but through neglect, misunderstanding, and silence. It traces how isolation becomes internalized, and how fear comes to define a world once shared with others.   Self-Absorbed   I felt unseen by anyone. In this world, I was nobody. I felt understood by no one. Words became useless in this world. I felt needed by no one. I was utterly alone in this world.   I felt shunned by everyone. In this world, I was never taken seriously. I opened my heart to no one. In this world, I lived a borrowed life. I had no relationships with anyone. My existence was not permitted in this world.   I was self-absorbed. I convinced myself of these things. I resented being ignored. I carried my troubles alone. I retreated into my own shell. I failed to notice the confusion of those around me.   I was self-absorbed. I hated...

This poem reflects on situations that resist easy solutions. Rather than seeking quick answers or clear outcomes, it turns toward presence, shared uncertainty, and sustained involvement— asking what it might mean to care without forcing resolution.   Unresolvable   Difficult to resolve. Do we leave them isolated? The limits of self-help.   Difficult to resolve. Do we leave it unattended? The limits of community welfare efforts.   Difficult to resolve. Do we pass it along entirely? The limits of governmental systems and policies.   We choose not to force a solution. We do not abandon those who carry problems. We do not ignore those who cause problems. We do not condemn those who look down on problems.   We choose not to argue over the rightness of solutions. Without strain, we worry together with that person. Without haste, we think together with that person. Without tension, we try things together with t...

This poem examines a world where the line between right and wrong is deliberately blurred. By questioning language, justification, and power, it confronts the moral evasions that sustain domination and asks what happens when self-overcoming is refused.   A World of Right and Wrong   When facing a matter, we must examine our way of thinking. We must examine our use of words. We must examine our everyday conduct.   What is the basis that claims alignment with reason? What is the basis for asserting what is “ right ” ? What is the basis for believing one is doing good?   Is a slip of the tongue a lie meant to protect oneself? Is a mocking laugh arrogance that looks down on others? Is failure nothing more than shifting responsibility?   Self-serving values are proclaimed as legitimate. Self-centered ethics are boasted as humanitarian. Ego-driven morality is substituted for education.   One secures absolute c...