"Behind Me, Before Me（Core Edition）"
【前書き】
This poem was born when fragments of English words began to rain down on me, not as translations, but as something pure and direct.
It speaks about the confusion, the countless paths, the voices we hear, and the silent decisions we make.
It's a reflection of a mind wandering through a world overflowing with information, searching for something real.
この詩は、日本語を翻訳するのではなく、純粋に、直接的に英語の言葉たちが私に降りてきたときに生まれました。
溢れかえる情報の中で、私たちが耳にする声、歩み続ける道、そして心の中で静かに交わされる数え切れない決断。
この作品は、そんな混乱と静かな探求を映し出す、私自身の心の断片です。
”Behind Me, Before Me（Core Edition）” Words by 文四郎（De Garassie the 4th）
I hear many sighs.
I read many lines.
I speak many leads.
I write many lies.
I remember none of them,
but nothing ever leaves me.
The map is detailed,
but why is the ink so stained?
Landmarks are faded,
but why were the lands made?
The wheels are spinning,
but why is nobody in the cabin?
The signals are blinking,
but why is no wind blowing?
A compass with demagnetized needles
spins in my head
and never points home.
Every step I take
never stays behind me.
Every word I say
never says before me.
Landscapes shine,
but why are no fires set?
Directions speak,
but why can no things spark?
【前書き】
This poem was born when fragments of English words began to rain down on me, not as translations, but as something pure and direct.
It speaks about the confusion, the countless paths, the voices we hear, and the silent decisions we make.
It's a reflection of a mind wandering through a world overflowing with information, searching for something real.
この詩は、日本語を翻訳するのではなく、純粋に、直接的に英語の言葉たちが私に降りてきたときに生まれました。
溢れかえる情報の中で、私たちが耳にする声、歩み続ける道、そして心の中で静かに交わされる数え切れない決断。
この作品は、そんな混乱と静かな探求を映し出す、私自身の心の断片です。
”Behind Me, Before Me（Core Edition）” Words by 文四郎（De Garassie the 4th）
I hear many sighs.
I read many lines.
I speak many leads.
I write many lies.
I remember none of them,
but nothing ever leaves me.
The map is detailed,
but why is the ink so stained?
Landmarks are faded,
but why were the lands made?
The wheels are spinning,
but why is nobody in the cabin?
The signals are blinking,
but why is no wind blowing?
A compass with demagnetized needles
spins in my head
and never points home.
Every step I take
never stays behind me.
Every word I say
never says before me.
Landscapes shine,
but why are no fires set?
Directions speak,
but why can no things spark?
Every step I take
never stays behind me.
Every word I say
never says before me.
【後書き】
We live surrounded by endless maps, compasses, and signs.
Yet somehow, the more detailed they are, the harder it becomes to know where to go.
This poem captures that quiet unease, and the stubborn hope that still keeps us moving forward.
私たちは無数の地図、コンパス、標識に囲まれて生きています。
けれども、細かくなればなるほど、なぜか「どこへ行けばいいのか」がわからなくなる。
この詩は、そんな静かな不安と、それでもなお前に進もうとする小さな希望を描きました。
【著作権表記】
© 2025 文四郎（De Garassie the 4th）
degarassie.the4th@gmail.com
never stays behind me.
Every word I say
never says before me.
【後書き】
We live surrounded by endless maps, compasses, and signs.
Yet somehow, the more detailed they are, the harder it becomes to know where to go.
This poem captures that quiet unease, and the stubborn hope that still keeps us moving forward.
私たちは無数の地図、コンパス、標識に囲まれて生きています。
けれども、細かくなればなるほど、なぜか「どこへ行けばいいのか」がわからなくなる。
この詩は、そんな静かな不安と、それでもなお前に進もうとする小さな希望を描きました。
【著作権表記】
© 2025 文四郎（De Garassie the 4th）
degarassie.the4th@gmail.com
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