Lyrics by 川英治


窓です　灯です

ここは街の　かふえ

田辻を切って流れる黒い風にまたがり

闇の底に浮かぶ火酒の顔(かんばせ)です



温室咲きの時節はづれの花びらをむしりとり

そこはけむりです　ほのほです

夜一ぱいに媚態をつくるまゆずみです



たこのやうにすとーぶのまはりに吸いつき

魔すゐ的な支那飲料の香気にしびれ

せまい天井下にゆれる五彩のテープは

ひとりぽっちの情欲です



うえとれすよ　えぷろんよ

金(こがね)のいれ歯を見せて唄ってごらん

れこーどは　ゆうもれすく

ああ犬のやうに神経がらんぷをかけめぐってゐるよ

この食傷のてーぶるに能手をとって

すっぽりと　たましいの一片(ひとひら)をほほばり

落ちつきのわるい椅子によりかかる午前十時すぎは

なんと　よひどれてみたい心です



窓です　灯です

ここは街のかふえ

大空に吠え立つ感情をいろどって

赤々と燃え上がる　あるこほるの唇です


English Translation

It is a window. It is a lamp.
Here is a café in the city.

Straddling the black wind that slices through the crossroads,
I become the fiery liquor’s face,
floating at the bottom of the dark.

Plucking the petals of a greenhouse-grown, out-of-season flower,
there is smoke—there is a faint glow—
an ink-dark brow shaping coquettish charms
that fill the whole night.

Clinging like an octopus
around the stove,
numbed by the narcotic scent
of a Chinese drink,
and beneath the cramped ceiling
the swaying ribbons of five colors
are a loneliness steeped in desire.

Waitress, apron—
show your gold teeth and sing.
The record spins, humorous and dim.
Ah, like a dog my nerves
race around the lamp.

At this table, sickened with excess,
taking chopsticks in hand,
I bite off a single fragment
of my own soul,
and leaning against an uneasy chair
just past ten in the morning—
how deeply I long
to be drunk.

It is a window. It is a lamp.
Here is a café in the city.

Tinting the emotions that howl toward the open sky,
these are lips of alcohol—
glowing red,
burning upward.


※ The lyricist lived in the Taishō era and left behind only four poems; their identity and life remain largely unknown.