Coded Tanka Fragments｜2026.05
2026年5月にXに投稿した短歌を英訳とともに掲載します。
Here is a collection of Tanka I posted on X in May 2026, along with its English translation.
May 1-10
欠損を抱えたままでテレポート
見知らぬ街で不在を癒す
Carrying my missing part,
I slip through space and vanish.
I arrive incomplete
in a city I’ve never known,
trying to soothe the absence I bring.
動かない車のランプ見つめつつ
接続不良の夜を迎える
Staring
at motionless tail‑lights,
I drift into the evening
as the city’s signals falter—
another night of broken connection.
一日中 地球と細胞 動いてる
けれど私は じっとしている
All day,
the Earth and every cell
move without pause,
while I remain still—
traveling in place.
#短歌 #poetry
空間に散乱している光線は
何億年も迷い続けた
Light drifts
scattered through the vastness,
wandering for millions of years
before a single ray
finally reaches me.
歩む人 駆ける人らの足音を
聴きながら我 書きまくる人
Footsteps pass—
some walking, some running ahead;
I listen from the margins,
ink moving faster than my feet,
writing my way through their noise.
口内炎 治った後の担々麺
辛さも熱も今日はやさしい
My mouth healed,
I return to dandan noodles;
the burn, the heat,
once unbearable
now arrive as kindness.
市場では夢が売り買いされている
睡眠不足の人々の夢
In the market,
dreams are bought and traded.
The sleepless wander through stalls,
offering the fragments they lost,
hoping someone will dream for them.
微分して残った私のあまりくず
積分しても戻れない夜
After the derivative,
only scraps of myself remained.
I try integration,
but the night
will not return.
接線のように一瞬触れたあと
離れて消える 特異点まで
Like a tangent line,
we touched for only an instant,
then drifted apart—
disappearing toward
a singularity neither of us could name.
ことばより先に磁場が触れあって
会話はただの確認になる
Our magnetic fields met
before our voices did;
everything we said after
was only a way
of confirming what was already there.
私の体は紐でできている
手繰り寄せれば君につながる
My body
is made of threads.
When I draw them in,
every strand
leads back to you.
May 11-20
動かずに今日を終えたと思っても
地球とともに宇宙をまわる
Even if
I end the day unmoving,
the Earth keeps carrying me,
circling through the dark
on our quiet orbit through space.
糸くずが散らばる脳の襞の奥
結び目ごとに想い出沈む
Deep inside the brain’s creases,
bits of thread are scattered—
and in each knot,
a memory
settles downward.
君というインターフェースは複雑で
それでもタップ 繰り返す夜
Your interface
is beautifully complex;
still, through the night,
my fingers keep returning
to tap your hidden screen.
レアアース不足のニュース読みながら
新しい機種 予約している
Reading news
of rare‑earth shortages,
I still find myself
placing a preorder
for the newest device.
私の心は紐の集合体
ほどいてくれる人を探して
My heart
is a tangle of threads.
I wander,
seeking the one
who can loosen them.
守るとは真空内に磁場を張り
小さな星を振るわせること
To protect
is to cast a magnetic field
in a vacuum,
letting a small star
tremble into being.
守る日は君の痛みを微分して
喜びだけを積分したい
On days I guard you,
I differentiate your pain,
breaking it into smaller parts;
and integrate only your joy,
so it may fill all our time.
粒であり波でもあるようなもの
人の気持ちも量子のように
A thing both particle and wave—
human feelings, too,
seem almost quantum:
shifting with each observation,
never wholly one or the other.
私とは無数の点の軌跡なの
結べばやがてひとつの波に
I am the trace
of countless scattered points;
when joined together,
they become, at last,
a single unfolding wave.
人生をどの形式で保存する
書式不明のままエクスポート
How should a life
be saved or stored at all?
With its format unknown,
it waits in the dark
for an export no one can verify.
心地いい社会をつくるはずなのに
利用規約が増えてゆくよな
We say we are building
a more comfortable society—
yet the terms of use keep multiplying,
line after line,
until comfort itself needs permission.
生きるとはユーザーテストの繰り返し
想定外のバグと付き合う
To live is to repeat
an endless user test—
learning, somehow,
to live alongside
bugs no one expected.
石油には飽きたと言って人類は
もっと希少なレアアース掘る
Claiming we’ve tired
of oil, humanity turns
to dig instead
for something even rarer—
rare earth, our newest addiction.
心にはダークパターンが潜んでて
戻るボタンを押せずにいるよ
In the heart,
dark patterns lie in wait;
I know there should be
a button marked “go back,”
yet I cannot bring myself to press it.
選んだと思うその手の軌跡まで
設計された購買曲線
The path my hand traced
felt chosen,
yet something guided it—
a curve already drawn
for me to follow.
庭先の花は動かぬふりをして
種は飛び立ち 世界を巡る
The garden flower
pretends it cannot move;
yet its seeds lift into air,
beginning their long passage
through the wide world.
波として届いた君のひとことを
書体にすると明朝になる
Your single word
reached me first as a wave;
when I gave it a font,
it became
Garamond.
May 21-31
星座とは人が結んだ物語
点と点とのやさしい誤読
Constellations are
stories people have connected—
gentle misreadings
drawn between distant points
of light in the dark.
空間を漂う無数の光線の
ひとつが届き他は消えゆく
Of the countless rays
drifting through open space,
one alone reaches me;
all the others
fade quietly into nothing.
星空は神が描いた下書きか
句読点だけ瞬く夜ふけ
Is the night sky
a draft the gods once sketched?
Only the stars—
tiny punctuation marks—
flicker through the late hours.
使いやすいものほど記憶に残らない
摩擦の中に生まれる感情
Things easy to use
leave almost no trace in us.
Only in friction
do feelings rise,
shaping what we remember.
人生のユーザーフローを書いてみる
分岐ばかりで出口が見えぬ
Tracing life’s flow,
a map of branching paths
with no clear end.
Every turn divides again,
and the exit stays unseen.
遠回りした日の色は乾かずに
あなたの道は油絵になる
The colors of your detours never dry.
They cling to the days you thought you lost.
Each pause thickens the canvas.
Every wound leaves a brighter stroke.
Your path becomes an oil painting of its own.
あなたには あなたのテンポあったはず
揺れて震えて ぶつ切りのやつ
You once had
a rhythm that belonged to you alone—
shaking, trembling,
stuttering in broken fragments,
yet still unmistakably yours.
青が押し 黄が警告し 赤が断つ
無視する者は 傷つく世界
Blue pushes forward.
Yellow raises its warning.
Red brings the world to a stop.
Those who ignore the signals
are left wounded by the world’s collision.
AIに答えを求め続ければ
人の沈黙 長く感じる
If I keep
seeking answers from AI,
human silence stretches longer—
a pause that once felt natural
now echoes with its own weight.
満員の電車に揺られ窓越しに
空いた車両を眺めて吐息
Swaying inside
an overcrowded train,
I watch through the window
the nearly empty carriage
and breathe out a quiet sigh.
あなたから私の気配を拾う夜
同じ海から寄せてくる波
At night I catch
a trace of myself in you.
Waves rising from
the same wide sea
reach us both.
