ねむり姫

ねむり姫 ねむりは、世界を離れるための小さな舟。 the sleeping girl is still warm. not awake. not gone. just held between two rooms. まぶたの奥で、 青い砂が降っている。 low light. slow air. someone counts her breathing. one. two. then stops counting. the window keeps the night inside its glass. not a door. not a dream. no one knows who is holding her hand. a lover. a mother. a child. or no one with a name. only a hand remains. a hand growing cold, and another hand trying not to forget it. the body becomes a quiet outline under the sheet. the world does not break. it only waits. the clock is moving. but the hour has already left for another town. her skin remembers a little longer than the room. ねむり姫は、 目を覚まさない。 not as tragedy. as fact. soft. unanswered. blue. stay near. not to save her. not to wake her. stay near. as a small sound beside the fading. 眠っていて。 ひとりではないように。 the dream is quiet. the real is quiet. the border is water at night. warmth. small warmth. breath. thin breath. hand. empty hand. ぬくもり。 小さなぬくもり。 blue dust. cold window. no border. 名前。 砂上の文字。 nothing leaves loudly. not flowers. not stars. not body heat. ただ、 小さな熱が 世界の外側へ しずかに移っていく。 nothing loud.