Shuntaro Tanikawa

1931 / Tokyo City, Japan

Something Lost

I lost an utterly trivial item.
Nothing that would trouble me greatly not to have
nor something I associate with fond memories.
The corner store sells them should I want a replacement,
but, just the fact that it's no longer there
has turned all the drawers into eternal labyrinths
that I've already wandered for three hours or so.
At my wit's end, I retreat to the garden and look up to the evening sky
where near the eaves the first star has begun to shine.
What am I living for?
This quite unrelated doubt floats to mind.
It's been many decades since I considered it,
but surely there was never a satisfactory answer.
At least I can search for that item thoroughly, throw my clothes into disarray again—
thus I muster the courage to go back indoors and it strikes me-
will all my familiar household items perish in the thin veil of darkness?
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