Mutsuo Takahashi
Translated from Japanese by Jeffrey Angles
What Is Greece
The Greeks existed, but the country of Greece did not
The Greeks traveled, and where they settled became Greece
One day, a small Greek ship drifted ashore on my heart’s headland
Before I knew it, the island that is me had become Greece
And once I acknowledged that, I, too, became Greek
I breathed Greece—in other words, I breathed freedom—
The airless freedom of a vacuum which doesn’t exist anywhere
Clytemnestra’s Claim
Agamemnon
Why can one censure a general for injustices against his men
But not for wrongs committed against his own wife?
Why can he keep women to serve at camp during his ten-year expedition
Yet force his wife to stay chaste, watching faithfully over the home?
Each night my husband spewed lust into the abdomens of so many
While I simply met up with a single, secret lover.
Once home, he declared how he’d cared for the enemy princess, his spoils of war,
But if he knew of my lover, the death sentence would have come quick.
Is attacking before being attacked a privilege reserved for men of war?
Kill before being killed—that is all I have done.
If broad plains and open sea are the grounds where men play,
The bedchamber and bath are where women battle.
The dark red gush of blood that spills from his open wounds
Is a victory for all long-suffering women, not only me.