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myOtaku.com: Kilikina Majere


Tuesday, January 4, 2005

'Sayonara'
I found this passage, written by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, while exploring mybountiful books of poems and the poetic discriptive essays. I find it a beautiful attribute to the Jappanese word, 'Sayonara'.
:
'Sayonara, Sayonara!' I was in my stateroom but I could hear them, outside on the deck of the Japanese boat, calling to friends and relatives on the dock at Shanghai. 'Sayonara'-up and down the gangplank and over the rails. A boatload of Japanese were leaving China for home, as we were. 'Sayonara,' the chains clanked and the warning whistle shook the boat. The voices outside rose in a flurry of noise, like a flock of frightened birds. But above the congtomerate sound there was always one voice, clean and sharp and individual and yet representative of the mass like that one face in the front line that holds the meaning of the whole crowd-one cry, 'Sayonara.' The impression was intensified perhaps because it was the one word of Japanese I understood-'Syaonara' ('Good-bye').

I was to hear it again, all along our trip home. For we crossed Japan by train from the southern tip to Yokohama, where we boarded the boat for America.

'Syaonara': the clatter of wooden clogs along the station platform; the flutter of kimonos; babies jogging on their mother's backs; men carruing four or five small bundles tied up in different-colored furoshiki(squares of parti-colored silk or cotton); old women knocking along with their sticks, their brown faces hidden under enormous rooflike hats of straw; a man shouting hi wares. We leaned out of the window at one of these stations and motioned to a vender for some tea. He poured out of his big tin into a little brown clay teapot like a child's toy, with a saucer for a lid and an inverted cup on top. 'Two! Two!' we shouted and signaled as the train jerked forward, starting to pull out. The vender ran after us with another teapot swinging from its wire handle and pushed it in our window.
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