一宮から木更津まで出て、内房の海岸線を保田まで下った。途中、富津の新舞子海岸で休憩した。祖父母の家がここから近く、幼少のころにはよくこの海岸で遊んだものだ。
保田から鴨川方面へ横断する県道に入り、佐久間ダムでは梅の花や水仙を眺めた。「探梅」「観梅」といえば、いずれも晩冬の季語である。辞書を引くと、「詩作・句作のために梅の花のある地を訪ねること」とある。房総半島にはすでに春の空気が漂っているが、この晩冬の季語で一句詠んでみたいと思った。
ちょうど日暮れどきで、うまくいけば残照の空を通過する国際宇宙ステーションが見えるはずだった。それで山道に折れて登っていき、空が開けた広場に出た。北西から現れた国際宇宙ステーションは、南東に向けてほんの数分で過ぎ去った。辺りには山肌を撫でる風の音しか聞こえない。まるで全人類がすでに宇宙のどこかへ移住してしまい、自分ひとりが地球に取り残されたかのような感覚を覚えた。もちろん、見下ろせば人の生活の明かりはあるのだけれど。
さらに空が完全に暗くなるのを待って、星空を眺めてから帰路についた。
I traveled from Ichinomiya to Kisarazu, then followed the coast of the Uchibō area down to Hota. On the way, I stopped to rest at Shinmaiko Beach in Futtsu. My grandparents’ house is nearby, and when I was a child, I often played along that shore.
From Hota, I turned inland toward Kamogawa on a prefectural road and stopped at the Sakuma Dam, where I admired plum blossoms and narcissus flowers. In Japanese poetry, both “tanbai” and “kanbai” are seasonal words for late winter, meaning “to go in search of plum blossoms for the sake of poetry or haiku.” Though spring already lingers in the air here on the Bōsō Peninsula, I found myself wanting to compose a verse using one of those wintry words.
As the sun began to set, I hoped to catch a glimpse of the International Space Station passing through the afterglow. I took a side road into the hills and climbed until I reached a clearing where the sky opened up. From the northwest, the space station appeared and swiftly crossed the sky toward the southeast, vanishing in just a few minutes. All I could hear was the wind brushing against the mountain slopes. I felt, for a brief moment, as if all of humanity had already migrated somewhere out into space—and I alone had been left behind on Earth. Of course, when I looked down, I could still see the lights of human life glowing below.
I stayed until the sky was completely dark, gazed up at the stars for a while, and then began the journey home.
Konome-ame 