I come and stand at every door But no one hears my silent tread I knock and yet remain unseen For I am dead, for I am dead.
I'm only seven although I died In Hiroshima long ago I'm seven now as I was then When children die they do not grow.
My hair was scorched by swirling flame My eyes grew dim, my eyes grew blind Death came and turned my bones to dust And that was scattered by the wind.
I need no fruit, I need no rice I need no sweet, nor even bread I ask for nothing for myself For I am dead, for I am dead.
All that I ask is that for peace You fight today, you fight today So that the children of this world May live and grow and laugh and play.
Nâzim Hikmet Ran, the most celebrated Turkish poet, was a Communist. He was the only major writer to speak out against the Armenian massacres in 1915 and 1922. In 1938, Hikmet was condemned to prison for 28 years and four months for anti-fascist activities. Hikmet spent the following 12 years in prisons. After losing his Turkish citizenship, he lived in exile in the Soviet Union and other socialist countries. He died in Moscow, on 3 June 1963.
Click on the link <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmsRNQ57f1M> to watch the video of "Shinda Onnanoko [Dead Girl]," Nobuyuki Nakamoto's translation of "I Come and Stand at Every Door" (music by Yuzo Toyama and arrangement by Ryuichi Sakamoto), performed by Chitose Hajime and Ryuichi Sakamoto at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial on 5 August 2005.
<http://mrzine.monthlyreview.org/hibakusha090807.html> Echoes of Pain in Sounds of Cicadas: Hibakusha Testimony from Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Watashitachi wa Wasurenai
At the end of those air raid shelters was our shelter. I went in, hoping to find my brother, but I couldn't find him. I got out of the shelter.
Then, little Kyoko called my name.
"Mi-chan, Mi-chan," the voice of a girl said. I asked, "Who are you?"
The voice said, "It's Kyoko."
Coming closer, Kyoko said, "Mi-chan, mizu, mizu [water, water]."
But she was in no condition to drink water. Her body was all black. Her hair was all gone, and so were her clothes, with only the rubber waistband of her underpants left on her. Her skin, still stuck to her body, was all black, nothing like burns with blisters. . . . Completely charred black! How agonizing it must have been.
"Mizu, mizu." Her voice has really lingered in my ears, to this day.
I planted cherry trees in my backyard, the trees this tall. They grew taller, and every summer, cicadas came. "Mizu, mizu, mizu," I heard cicadas cry. "Give me water, water, water, water."
And her moans. I heard her painful moans in the sounds of cicadas. So I had all the trees cut down.
This woman hibakusha [atomic bomb survivor] was 12 years old when an atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. You can hear her testimony in her own voice at <www.geocities.jp/s20hibaku/4/162_f.html>. Hers is one of 394 testimonies in Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Watashitachi wa Wasurenai [Hiroshima, Nagasaki, We Will Never Forget], a 9-disc oral history collection, compiled by Hibakusha no Koe of Kiroku suru Kai, an association dedicated to collecting oral testimonies of hibakusha. You can listen to all the testimonies in Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Watashitachi wa Wasurenai online at <www.geocities.jp/s20hibaku/index.html>. Translation by Yoshie Furuhashi. -- Yoshie