To understand what it means to be human requires introspection not merely of man but of birds. Yet, is it possible for us to see from the viewpoint of these winged creatures at all? Shibasaki weaves elements of daily life into her descriptions of the various birds we find in the city—painting a picture that eases this dilemma of co-existence, both less tenuous and more elusive than we dare to admit.

 

As a native English-speaker residing in Tokyo, with an education first in philosophy, then in Japanese, the translations made from Japanese to English underwent—consciously or otherwise—two phases. Shibasaki here writes a stream-of-consciousness narrative, which semantically resembles daily conversation. As the Japanese language shifts according to social circumstance (a speech, a thesis, or a chat with friends employs different grammars, for example), this accessible form of Japanese provided me a greater clarity of insight into her intended meaning. This was the first phase. The second, involving the actual translation into English, proved to be more philosophical. Because Shibasaki’s seemingly simple language contains literary nuances, I found it appropriate to employ a conversational English style while being free to express deeper contextual connotations, especially when she speaks of humans and birds. This is why even though this short story is set within the context of daily experiences, philosophical and literary language inevitably seeps in as well.

 

The particular moments that have been chosen to be visualized and translated in this work were those where Shibasaki’s speaker lapses into introspection, prompted by a particular observation, most often of birds, but also of nature, the city, and even mummies, among others. This method of comprehending the world in relation to the self, via seemingly unrelated events, is especially poignant: it reveals the speaker’s thought processes and in doing so, underscores the universality of the human mind’s propensity to daydream, regardless of language.

 

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