Song of a Jelly Fish by Mitsuharu Kaneko

Swaying, swaying,
tossing, tossing,
eventually I
could be seen through like this.
But to be swayed is not a comfortable thing, you know.

From the outside I can be seen through. Look !
Inside my digestive organs
is a toothbrush with worn-out bristles
and also a small amount of yellowish water.

That dirty-looking thing called my soul
does not exist anymore now.
Together with the tubes of my belly
it was snatched away by the waves.

Me? What I am
is a thing of emptiness, you know,
emptiness swayed by the waves
and again swayed back and forth by the waves.

Shriveling up and then soon afterward
opening wisteria-purple,
night after night
burning a lamp.

No, that which is being swayed about actually
is only the soul which has lost the body
that is the soul’s wrapping
of thin rice paper.

No, no, so much emptiness came from
swaying, swaying,
tossing, tossing pain’s
fatigued shadow which is all that it is!