WASHBASIN Poem by Mitsuharu Kaneko

For many years I had thought that the vessel called the washbasin was something in which we put water or hot water for us to wash our faces or hands. Nonetheless, the Javanese fill it with curry soup in which kambing (lamb) and ikan (fish), chicken and fruit, are cooked, and wait for customers under blooming silk-trees, while Cantonese women sit astride the same washbasin in front of their "wanton guests" to clean their impure parts and urinate into it, making desolate shabori shabori noises.
Desolate noises
in the washbasin.

A rainy sojourn
at the darkening tanjung. (1)

Swayed,
listing,
my tired heart
still can't get rid of the echoes.

As long as my life continues.
Ears. You must listen.

To the desolation of the noises
in the washbasin.