8/10/2019 Snowy Cotton

1/2

And the candle glimmer slowly on the tatami, lightening the rice straws where the

old lady was deepened in penumbra. I was supporting my head on the soft fusuma trying

to fall asleep for a few moments. Outside it got cold and in the room a frozen deathly airhad spread, so I crouched closely to myself in order to get warmer. I was feeling my roof

of the mouth dry, covered by bitterness. I would have wanted to go away from there, to

go and search for Fumiko-san to ask her to give me some food and some water. ut I wasfeeling pity. I was pitying the woman who was laying on the floor, ruckling slowly as for

not to make noises, as for not to disturb my sleep. And I couldn!t leave like this.

I lingeringly observed her half-closed eyes sliced in glossy wa". #almness. Astrange calmness like a white veil placed on her translucent hair, spread on the mattres,

esieged beads of sweat. And the flame was lighting weighty. In her breathing rhythm it

was smolder frailly, frightened, sipped by her cat pupil. It seems it was saying$ %!I!m

tired. &ince long time ago I have been tired'ut this is the life. (his is the reality, youknow' )es, indeed, terrible tried I do feel now'!!

ut her lips weren!t moving, empty of blood.

*ike this, this woman whom I had been desperately clinging, whom I had prop

my hands, supporting myself to stand up- at the beginning with distrust, after tightly, withall my being- , unko-sama'unko-sama has clung onto me, has closed herself in her

impenetrable shell -impenetrable by &hin-sama or Fumiko-san- and she will pull out apart of me with herself, me, +yo from nowadays. aybe a hand. aybe a supple feet or a

muscle outlining under the tense skin. aybe the large shoulders in their slender posture.

aybe ust everything. ntil it will have been perished.In her veins the death was meeting the blood!s resistance. (he flesh was

stubborning throbbing. (he heart was stubborning counting its beats. And the soul. (he

soul which was letting it in with ecstatic happiness, which was letting it to huddle in itself

and to grow, to dry its wings in the warmth and together, in a perfect union, to fly beyondthe skies to a reincarnation in a new rustling young body. (hat new body will hear the

acute songs of the cicadas, clothed with the fresh moist among the blue ready to perishhydrangeas from the garden. (heir bou/uets of large flowers rest pridefully open even atnight, refusing sleep, refusing to become dull like the azaleas or to drain apathetical to the

ground like the wisteria in mauve waves. 0o. 1hy to be dull and apathetic like all of

these withered flowers from the neighborhood gardens2 1hy to close your frightenedpetals at the croaking of the frogs like the irises2 Or like the peonies closing its perfume

among dozens of white moon-like petals like the noble ladies from the 3eian era. For

falling asleep bending your morning glory-like body ust for the sake of sun, detaching

yourself from the nights when sometimes the rime falls2And on the edge of a few mesh of shoi, in croaking of the frogs and songs of

cicadas, some fireflies were lighting from the outside to inside, creating some ghostly

light round bubbles, fluttering slowly on the fusuma and on my hands, increasing theirbody to become almost as my palm, almost as the withered face of grandmother whom

the life was draining, ravenously taken by the hot flame of the candle.

All the room embraced in a silky veil on the back of the carps from the nobles!ponds.

In the darkness from outside hazily the hydrangeas are perishing, are falling

swinging and swinging me with a haggish cicada song.

8/10/2019 Snowy Cotton

2/2

0ow where are &hin-sama and Fumiko-san2 1hy they don!t come sooner24 3ow

long I should wait and wait for them2 It!s the midnight. It!s solitary midnight on the paths

and no one is going after the shinto priestess from the shrine. 0o one make visits whenthe clouds cover the moon so no matter where you will be going you will fumble like a

blind man, without being able to distinguish anything. 5ust the two of them were rushing

to go to ask her like they couldn!t wait for a moment longer. ntil daybreak.And the grandmother!s hand is coming out slowly from the /uilt, unearthing some

tiny and blunt by the loom fingers, fingers with purple streaks shaped like best /uality

silk threads 6from the best butterflies- from which the kimono for ceremonies are made.And she isn!t moving at all anymore.

An oppressive butterfly have laid on my soul, thinking of making there its future

chrysalis. It!s hotter and hotter. It!s more and more soporific and more darker outside

when the light bubbles on the shoi are fading. 1hen the room is fading its contours andthe grandmother face is disappearing in the obscurity of the penumbra...

(he candle is sizzling /uietly, e"tinguishing with smoke in the oil, burning it. (he

lights are melting, remaining ust the deafening songs of cicada. (he soft perfume of the

hot oil is making them sleep. 7aguely, from the tatami echoes a cooling miasma. p tothe ceiling beams, up and up, in attic8 and beyond it, crushing the roof- to the moon.

And'I do believe we fell asleep'

&hin is the husband of unko grandmother. Fumiko is the servant. +yo is anadopted boy, beloved much by grandmother. 9randmother was making kimonos for a

living. (he time is the 5apanese iddle Ages. (he place is a small village from &hinano

province.

&orry if it doesn!t make much sense because this piece is from the middle of thestory. I ust chose it random. (he writing sounds better in +omanian. It was hard to

translate it accurately and I don!t think all words have the meaning I was thinking about.

(hank you for spending your time reading it :;: +yo mean %!reality!!, unko- %!aliterary person!!, &hin-%!forest!!, Fumiko-%!

1hat do you think about it2