PEBBLES Poem by Mitsuharu Kaneko

Wherever I go, pebbles.
There's no place where you don't lie about.
Blue lentils, round gravel.
Whichever, seems I've met you before.

Near the roots of weeds white with dust,
around a utility pole, a road marker, along a fence,
smashed by cars, sprung by the hoofs of a draft horse,
trampled under shoes, kicked away by a wooden clog,

but no one pays any mind.
That they treated you cruelly, even that you were there.
By chance, someone may pick you up,
but only so he may capriciously throw you into the distance.

Those like you, in China,
were called "dark people", were named "black heads". (1)
Pebbles. You remain in silence,
from century to century, waiting for what?

In which direction are you looking?
You do not answer. But I know.
That after all the clutter's gone from this earth,
you will be the ones that remain.