Day 52 ... spring hasn't come yet.
Good evening.đđ§Ąđđ
Good evening.đđ§Ąđđ
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"Winter Hydrangeas" is a poem that literally describes the state of hydrangeas in winter, but it also seeks to portray how easily assumptions can be fostered in everyday life.
「åŦãŽį´ĢéŊčą」ã¯æåéãåŦãŽį´ĢéŊčąãŽæ§åãæãã芊ã§ãã、æĨ常įæ´ģãŽä¸ã§æãčžŧãŋããããĢį°ĄåãĢč˛ãžããããæåãããã¨ãããĻããžã。
「åŦãŽį´ĢéŊčą」ã¯æåéãåŦãŽį´ĢéŊčąãŽæ§åãæãã芊ã§ãã、æĨ常įæ´ģãŽä¸ã§æãčžŧãŋããããĢį°ĄåãĢč˛ãžããããæåãããã¨ãããĻããžã。
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Winter Hydrangea
"I am exhausted," said she,
Or did I hear her wrong?
The colours, the textures, the veins.
Everything is
Colourless,
Smoothless,
Lifeless.
"I am dead," said she,
Or, did I hear her wrong?
The colours are desert sand,
The textures are weak cracks,
The veins are desiccated mummies.
- Michie Lyne
đ§Ąđ§Ąđ§Ą
「į§ã¯į˛ãæãĻããŽ」ã¨åŊŧåĨŗã¯č¨ãŖã
ããã¨ã、į§ãŽčãééã？
č˛、čŗĒæ、éč
ããšãĻã
č˛ããĒã
æģããã§ãĒã
įåŊããĒã
「į§ã¯æģãã ãŽ」ã¨åŊŧåĨŗã¯č¨ãŖã
ããã¨ã、į§ãŽčãééã？
č˛ã¯į æŧ ãŽį
čŗĒæã¯åŧąãäēčŖ
éčã¯äšžįĨãããã¤ãŠ
- ãããŧãŠã¤ãŗ
đ§Ąđ§Ąđ§Ą
"I am exhausted," said she,
Or did I hear her wrong?
The colours, the textures, the veins.
Everything is
Colourless,
Smoothless,
Lifeless.
"I am dead," said she,
Or, did I hear her wrong?
The colours are desert sand,
The textures are weak cracks,
The veins are desiccated mummies.
- Michie Lyne
đ§Ąđ§Ąđ§Ą
「į§ã¯į˛ãæãĻããŽ」ã¨åŊŧåĨŗã¯č¨ãŖã
ããã¨ã、į§ãŽčãééã？
č˛、čŗĒæ、éč
ããšãĻã
č˛ããĒã
æģããã§ãĒã
įåŊããĒã
「į§ã¯æģãã ãŽ」ã¨åŊŧåĨŗã¯č¨ãŖã
ããã¨ã、į§ãŽčãééã？
č˛ã¯į æŧ ãŽį
čŗĒæã¯åŧąãäēčŖ
éčã¯äšžįĨãããã¤ãŠ
- ãããŧãŠã¤ãŗ
đ§Ąđ§Ąđ§Ą
Winter Hydrangea, pastel, Michie Lyne, 2025.
Winter Hydrangea
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