われ、山にむかいて、目を挙ぐ。
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills.
――詩篇、第百二十一。
—Psalm 121.
子供より親が大事、と思いたい。子供のために、などと古風な道学者みたいな事を殊勝らしく考えてみても、何、子供よりも、その親のほうが弱いのだ。少くとも、私の家庭においては、そうである。まさか、自分が老人になってから、子供に助けられ、世話になろうなどという図々しい虫のよい下心は、まったく持ち合わせてはいないけれども、この親は、その家庭において、常に子供たちのご機嫌ばかり伺っている。子供、といっても、私のところの子供たちは、皆まだひどく幼い。長女は七歳、長男は四歳、次女は一歳である。それでも、既にそれぞれ、両親を圧倒し掛けている。父と母は、さながら子供たちの下男下女の趣きを呈しているのである。
Parents matter more than children—that is what I would like to think. However solemnly one may play the old-fashioned moralist and say it is all for the children's sake, the truth is that the parents are weaker than the children. In my household, at least, that is how it is. I have not the slightest brazen, self-serving notion of being helped and looked after by my children once I am old; and yet in this household the parent spends his whole time trying to keep the children in good humor. Children—but the children in my house are all still very small. My elder daughter is seven, my son four, my younger daughter one. Even so, each of them is already on the way to overpowering their parents. The father and mother have taken on the appearance of the children's manservant and maid.
夏、家族全部三畳間に集まり、大にぎやか、大混乱の夕食をしたため、父はタオルでやたらに顔の汗を拭き、
In summer the whole family gathers in the three-mat room for a boisterous, chaotic supper, and the father mops the sweat off his face with a towel, over and over.
「めし食って大汗かくもげびた事、と柳多留にあったけれども、どうも、こんなに子供たちがうるさくては、いかにお上品なお父さんといえども、汗が流れる」
"There's a verse in the Yanagidaru that says sweating buckets over your rice is a vulgar business, but really, with the children making this much noise, however refined a father may be, the sweat runs."
と、ひとりぶつぶつ不平を言い出す。
And he starts grumbling to himself.
母は、一歳の次女におっぱいを含ませながら、そうして、お父さんと長女と長男のお給仕をするやら、子供たちのこぼしたものを拭くやら、拾うやら、鼻をかんでやるやら、八面六臂のすさまじい働きをして、
The mother, giving the breast to the one-year-old, at the same time serves the father and the elder daughter and the son, wipes and picks up what the children have spilled, blows their noses—working with the eight faces and six arms of a demon.
「お父さんは、お鼻に一ばん汗をおかきになるようね。いつも、せわしくお鼻を拭いていらっしゃる」
"You sweat most on your nose, don't you, Father. You're always busy wiping your nose."
父は苦笑して、
The father smiles wryly.
「それじゃ、お前はどこだ。内股かね？」
"And you, then? The inside of your thighs?"
「お上品なお父さんですこと」
"What a refined father you are."
「いや、何もお前、医学的な話じゃないか。上品も下品も無い」
"Come now, it's a medical question, that's all. There's nothing refined or vulgar about it."
「私はね」
"For me," said the mother,
と母は少しまじめな顔になり、
and her face grew a little serious,
「この、お乳とお乳のあいだに、……涙の谷、……」
"it's here, between one breast and the other—the valley of tears."
涙の谷。
The valley of tears.
父は黙して、食事をつづけた。
The father said nothing, and went on eating.
私は家庭に在っては、いつも冗談を言っている。それこそ「心には悩みわずらう」事の多いゆえに、「おもてには快楽」をよそわざるを得ない、とでも言おうか。いや、家庭に在る時ばかりでなく、私は人に接する時でも、心がどんなにつらくても、からだがどんなに苦しくても、ほとんど必死で、楽しい雰囲気を創る事に努力する。そうして、客とわかれた後、私は疲労によろめき、お金の事、道徳の事、自殺の事を考える。いや、それは人に接する場合だけではない。小説を書く時も、それと同じである。私は、悲しい時に、かえって軽い楽しい物語の創造に努力する。自分では、もっとも、おいしい奉仕のつもりでいるのだが、人はそれに気づかず、太宰という作家も、このごろは軽薄である、面白さだけで読者を釣る、すこぶる安易、と私をさげすむ。
At home I am forever making jokes. It is because "within, there is much sorrow and trouble" that I have no choice but to array myself in "outward gladness"—or so I might put it. And not only at home: whenever I am with anyone, however wretched my heart, however sick my body, I strain almost desperately to create a cheerful atmosphere. And then, when the guest has gone, I reel with exhaustion and think about money, about morality, about suicide. Nor is it only when I am with people. It is the same when I write fiction. When I am sad, I make an effort, precisely then, to create a light and cheerful story. I regard it, for my part, as the most palatable service I can offer, but people do not notice; they look down on me—Dazai has gone shallow lately, they say, he hooks his readers with nothing but entertainment, it is utterly facile.
人間が、人間に奉仕するというのは、悪い事であろうか。もったいぶって、なかなか笑わぬというのは、善い事であろうか。
Is it a bad thing for one human being to serve another? Is it a good thing to put on airs and refuse to smile?
つまり、私は、糞真面目で興覚めな、気まずい事に堪え切れないのだ。私は、私の家庭においても、絶えず冗談を言い、薄氷を踏む思いで冗談を言い、一部の読者、批評家の想像を裏切り、私の部屋の畳は新しく、机上は整頓せられ、夫婦はいたわり、尊敬し合い、夫は妻を打った事など無いのは無論、出て行け、出て行きます、などの乱暴な口争いした事さえ一度も無かったし、父も母も負けずに子供を可愛がり、子供たちも父母に陽気によくなつく。
The fact is, I cannot bear anything solemn and deflating and awkward. Even in my own household I am constantly making jokes, making them with the feeling of walking on thin ice; and contrary to what some readers and critics imagine, the mats in my room are new, my desk is tidy, husband and wife are considerate of each other and hold each other in respect, and not only has the husband never struck his wife—the two of them have never once had so much as a violent quarrel of the get-out, I'm going sort. Father and mother dote on the children, each refusing to be outdone, and the children are cheerfully attached to their parents.
しかし、これは外見。母が胸をあけると、涙の谷、父の寝汗も、いよいよひどく、夫婦は互いに相手の苦痛を知っているのだが、それに、さわらないように努めて、父が冗談を言えば、母も笑う。
But this is the outside. When the mother opens the front of her kimono, there is the valley of tears; the father's night sweats grow worse and worse; and the husband and wife, each knowing the other's pain, take care not to touch it, and when the father makes a joke, the mother laughs too.
しかし、その時、涙の谷、と母に言われて父は黙し、何か冗談を言って切りかえそうと思っても、とっさにうまい言葉が浮かばず、黙しつづけると、いよいよ気まずさが積り、さすがの「通人」の父も、とうとう、まじめな顔になってしまって、
But this time, being told "the valley of tears," the father fell silent, and though he meant to turn it aside with some joke, no suitable words came to him on the instant, and as the silence went on the awkwardness only mounted, until the father, for all his reputation as a man of the world, ended by putting on a serious face.
「誰か、人を雇いなさい。どうしたって、そうしなければ、いけない」
"Hire somebody. We have to, one way or another."
と、母の機嫌を損じないように、おっかなびっくり、ひとりごとのように呟く。
—muttering it as if to himself, timidly, so as not to spoil the mother's temper.
子供が三人。父は家事には全然、無能である。蒲団さえ自分で上げない。そうして、ただもう馬鹿げた冗談ばかり言っている。配給だの、登録だの、そんな事は何も知らない。全然、宿屋住いでもしているような形。来客。饗応。仕事部屋にお弁当を持って出かけて、それっきり一週間も御帰宅にならない事もある。仕事、仕事、といつも騒いでいるけれども、一日に二、三枚くらいしかお出来にならないようである。あとは、酒。飲みすぎると、げっそり痩せてしまって寝込む。そのうえ、あちこちに若い女の友達などもある様子だ。
Three children. The father is utterly useless at housework. He does not even put away his own bedding. He does nothing but make idiotic jokes. Rations, registrations—he knows nothing about any of it. It is exactly as though he were living in an inn. Visitors. Entertaining them. He goes off to his workroom with a packed lunch and sometimes does not come home for a week. Work, work, he is always making a fuss about it, but he seems to manage only two or three pages a day. The rest is drink. When he drinks too much he grows gaunt and takes to his bed. And on top of that, it appears he has young women friends here and there.
子供、……七歳の長女も、ことしの春に生れた次女も、少し風邪をひき易いけれども、まずまあ人並。しかし、四歳の長男は、痩せこけていて、まだ立てない。言葉は、アアとかダアとか言うきりで一語も話せず、また人の言葉を聞きわける事も出来ない。這って歩いていて、ウンコもオシッコも教えない。それでいて、ごはんは実にたくさん食べる。けれども、いつも痩せて小さく、髪の毛も薄く、少しも成長しない。
The children—the seven-year-old girl and the younger daughter born this spring catch cold rather easily, but they are more or less like other children. The four-year-old boy, however, is wasted thin and still cannot stand. For speech he manages only "ah" and "dah," not a single word, and he cannot make out what is said to him either. He crawls about, and he does not tell us when he needs to relieve himself. And yet he eats a great deal. Still he stays thin and small, his hair is sparse, and he does not grow at all.
父も母も、この長男について、深く話し合うことを避ける。白痴、唖、……それを一言でも口に出して言って、二人で肯定し合うのは、あまりに悲惨だからである。母は時々、この子を固く抱きしめる。父はしばしば発作的に、この子を抱いて川に飛び込み死んでしまいたく思う。
The father and the mother avoid talking about this boy in any depth. An idiot, a mute—for the two of them to say such a word aloud, even once, and agree on it, would be too wretched. Sometimes the mother holds the child tightly to her. The father, again and again, feels the sudden impulse to take the child in his arms and jump into the river and be done with it.
「唖の次男を斬殺す。×日正午すぎ×区×町×番地×商、何某（五三）さんは自宅六畳間で次男何某（一八）君の頭を薪割で一撃して殺害、自分はハサミで喉を突いたが死に切れず附近の医院に収容したが危篤、同家では最近二女某（二二）さんに養子を迎えたが、次男が唖の上に少し頭が悪いので娘可愛さから思い余ったもの」
"Slays his mute second son. Shortly after noon on the ×th, at ×, ×-cho, × ward, ×, a merchant, aged 53, struck his second son, aged 18, on the head with a hatchet in the six-mat room of his home, killing him with a single blow; he then stabbed himself in the throat with a pair of scissors but failed to die, and was taken to a nearby clinic, where his condition is critical. The family had recently taken in an adopted husband for the second daughter, aged 22, and it appears that, his second son being mute and somewhat weak in the head, he was driven past endurance out of love for his daughter."
こんな新聞の記事もまた、私にヤケ酒を飲ませるのである。
Newspaper items like this one, too, drive me to drinking out of despair.
ああ、ただ単に、発育がおくれているというだけの事であってくれたら！ この長男が、いまに急に成長し、父母の心配を憤り嘲笑するようになってくれたら！ 夫婦は親戚にも友人にも誰にも告げず、ひそかに心でそれを念じながら、表面は何も気にしていないみたいに、長男をからかって笑っている。
Ah, if only it were simply a matter of slow development! If only this boy would suddenly grow, and come to resent and mock his parents' worrying! Telling neither relatives nor friends nor anyone, the husband and wife pray for it secretly in their hearts, while on the surface, as though nothing troubled them at all, they tease the boy and laugh.
母も精一ぱいの努力で生きているのだろうが、父もまた、一生懸命であった。もともと、あまりたくさん書ける小説家では無いのである。極端な小心者なのである。それが公衆の面前に引き出され、へどもどしながら書いているのである。書くのがつらくて、ヤケ酒に救いを求める。ヤケ酒というのは、自分の思っていることを主張できない、もどっかしさ、いまいましさで飲む酒の事である。いつでも、自分の思っていることをハッキリ主張できるひとは、ヤケ酒なんか飲まない。（女に酒飲みの少いのは、この理由からである）
The mother, no doubt, is living with all the strength she has; and the father too was doing his utmost. He was never a novelist who could write a great deal to begin with. He is a man of extreme timidity. And this man is dragged out before the public and writes in a fluster. Writing is painful, and he seeks refuge in drinking out of despair. Drinking out of despair means drinking out of the frustration and vexation of being unable to assert what one thinks. A person who can always state clearly what he thinks does not drink that way. (This is why there are few drinkers among women.)
私は議論をして、勝ったためしが無い。必ず負けるのである。相手の確信の強さ、自己肯定のすさまじさに圧倒せられるのである。そうして私は沈黙する。しかし、だんだん考えてみると、相手の身勝手に気がつき、ただこっちばかりが悪いのではないのが確信せられて来るのだが、いちど言い負けたくせに、またしつこく戦闘開始するのも陰惨だし、それに私には言い争いは殴り合いと同じくらいにいつまでも不快な憎しみとして残るので、怒りにふるえながらも笑い、沈黙し、それから、いろいろさまざま考え、ついヤケ酒という事になるのである。
I have never once won an argument. I invariably lose. I am overwhelmed by the strength of the other's conviction, by the ferocity of their self-affirmation. And so I fall silent. But as I think it over afterward I begin to notice the other's selfishness, and to be convinced that the fault is not all on my side; and yet, having once lost the argument, to reopen hostilities so doggedly would be dismal, and besides, a quarrel of words leaves in me a lasting, disagreeable hatred, as much as an exchange of blows does. So, trembling with anger, I laugh; I fall silent; and then I think this way and that, and end up drinking out of despair.
はっきり言おう。くどくどと、あちこち持ってまわった書き方をしたが、実はこの小説、夫婦喧嘩の小説なのである。
Let me say it plainly. I have written all this in a roundabout, long-winded way, but the truth is that this story is a story of a quarrel between husband and wife.
「涙の谷」
"The valley of tears."
それが導火線であった。この夫婦は既に述べたとおり、手荒なことはもちろん、口汚く罵り合った事さえないすこぶるおとなしい一組ではあるが、しかし、それだけまた一触即発の危険におののいているところもあった。両方が無言で、相手の悪さの証拠固めをしているような危険、一枚の札をちらと見ては伏せ、また一枚ちらと見ては伏せ、いつか、出し抜けに、さあ出来ましたと札をそろえて眼前にひろげられるような危険、それが夫婦を互いに遠慮深くさせていたと言って言えないところが無いでも無かった。妻のほうはとにかく、夫のほうは、たたけばたたくほど、いくらでもホコリの出そうな男なのである。
That was the fuse. As I have said, this couple is an exceedingly mild pair who have never been rough with each other—indeed, have never once so much as traded harsh words; but for that very reason there was something in them that trembled at the danger of a single spark. The danger that both, in silence, were quietly assembling evidence of the other's faults; glancing at one card and laying it face down, glancing at another and laying it face down, until one day, out of the blue—there, I have my hand—the cards would be laid out in a row before one's eyes. It would not be untrue to say that this was what made the two of them so guarded with each other. Whatever might be said of the wife, the husband was a man from whom, the more you beat him, the more dust would come.
「涙の谷」
"The valley of tears."
そう言われて、夫は、ひがんだ。しかし、言い争いは好まない。沈黙した。お前はおれに、いくぶんあてつける気持で、そう言ったのだろうが、しかし、泣いているのはお前だけでない。おれだって、お前に負けず、子供の事は考えている。自分の家庭は大事だと思っている。子供が夜中に、へんな咳一つしても、きっと眼がさめて、たまらない気持になる。もう少し、ましな家に引越して、お前や子供たちをよろこばせてあげたくてならぬが、しかし、おれには、どうしてもそこまで手が廻らないのだ。これでもう、精一ぱいなのだ。おれだって、凶暴な魔物ではない。妻子を見殺しにして平然、というような「度胸」を持ってはいないのだ。配給や登録の事だって、知らないのではない、知るひまが無いのだ。……父は、そう心の中で呟き、しかし、それを言い出す自信も無く、また、言い出して母から何か切りかえされたら、ぐうの音も出ないような気もして、
Being told that, the husband took it as a dig at him. But he does not care for quarrelling. He fell silent. You said that meaning to get at me a little, no doubt; but you are not the only one who weeps. I think about the children no less than you do. I think my family matters. If a child gives so much as one odd cough in the night, I am sure to wake, and the feeling is unbearable. I would give anything to move us to a slightly better house and make you and the children happy, but I cannot manage that far, however I try. This is already the utmost I can do. I am not some savage monster. I have not got the "nerve" to watch my wife and children go under and stay calm about it. As for the rations and the registrations, it is not that I do not know about them, it is that I have no time to find out.… So the father muttered inwardly, but had no confidence to say it aloud, and felt besides that if he did say it and the mother answered him back, he would not have a word to reply with.
「誰か、ひとを雇いなさい」
"Hire somebody."
と、ひとりごとみたいに、わずかに主張してみた次第なのだ。
—and that, as if talking to himself, was the whole of the case he ventured to make.
母も、いったい、無口なほうである。しかし、言うことに、いつも、つめたい自信を持っていた。（この母に限らず、どこの女も、たいていそんなものであるが）
The mother, too, is on the whole a woman of few words. But there was always a cool confidence in what she did say. (Not only this mother; most women anywhere are much the same.)
「でも、なかなか、来てくれるひともありませんから」
"But there's hardly anyone who will come."
「捜せば、きっと見つかりますよ。来てくれるひとが無いんじゃ無い、いてくれるひとが無いんじゃないかな？」
"If you look, you will surely find someone. It isn't that no one will come—perhaps it's that no one will stay?"
「私が、ひとを使うのが下手だとおっしゃるのですか？」
"Are you saying that I don't know how to manage people?"
「そんな、……」
"No, no…"
父はまた黙した。じつは、そう思っていたのだ。しかし、黙した。
The father fell silent again. That was, in fact, what he had been thinking. But he said nothing.
ああ、誰かひとり、雇ってくれたらいい。母が末の子を背負って、用足しに外に出かけると、父はあとの二人の子の世話を見なければならぬ。そうして、来客が毎日、きまって十人くらいずつある。
Ah, if only she would hire just one person. When the mother goes out on an errand with the youngest on her back, the father has to look after the other two children. And there are visitors, some ten of them without fail, every day.
「仕事部屋のほうへ、出かけたいんだけど」
"I'd like to go over to the workroom."
「これからですか？」
"Now?"
「そう。どうしても、今夜のうちに書き上げなければならない仕事があるんだ」
"Yes. There's a piece I absolutely have to finish tonight."
それは、嘘でなかった。しかし、家の中の憂鬱から、のがれたい気もあったのである。
That was no lie. But there was also a wish to escape the gloom inside the house.
「今夜は、私、妹のところへ行って来たいと思っているのですけど」
"Tonight I was thinking I'd like to go and see my sister."
それも、私は知っていた。妹は重態なのだ。しかし、女房が見舞いに行けば、私は子供のお守りをしていなければならぬ。
That, too, I knew. Her sister is gravely ill. But if my wife goes to visit her, I shall have to mind the children.
「だから、ひとを雇って、……」
"That's why we should hire someone—"
言いかけて、私は、よした。女房の身内のひとの事に少しでも、ふれると、ひどく二人の気持がややこしくなる。
I began to say it, and stopped. The moment one touches on anything to do with my wife's family, however slightly, things between us become terribly tangled.
生きるという事は、たいへんな事だ。あちこちから鎖がからまっていて、少しでも動くと、血が噴き出す。
Living is a formidable business. Chains are wound about you from every direction, and if you move even a little, the blood spurts.
私は黙って立って、六畳間の机の引出しから稿料のはいっている封筒を取り出し、袂につっ込んで、それから原稿用紙と辞典を黒い風呂敷に包み、物体でないみたいに、ふわりと外に出る。
I stand up without a word, take the envelope with my writing fee from the drawer of the desk in the six-mat room, thrust it into my sleeve, wrap manuscript paper and a dictionary in a black furoshiki, and drift outside, weightless, as though I were not a solid body at all.
もう、仕事どころではない。自殺の事ばかり考えている。そうして、酒を飲む場所へまっすぐに行く。
Work is out of the question now. I think of nothing but suicide. And I go straight to a place where there is drink.
「いらっしゃい」
"Welcome."
「飲もう。きょうはまた、ばかに綺麗な縞を、……」
"Let's drink. That's a remarkably pretty stripe you have on today—"
「わるくないでしょう？ あなたの好く縞だと思っていたの」
"Not bad, is it? I thought it was the kind of stripe you like."
「きょうは、夫婦喧嘩でね、陰にこもってやりきれねえんだ。飲もう。今夜は泊るぜ。だんぜん泊る」
"Today it's a quarrel with my wife, and it's the sort that festers, and I can't stand it. Let's drink. I'm staying the night. I am definitely staying."
子供より親が大事、と思いたい。子供よりも、その親のほうが弱いのだ。
Parents matter more than children—that is what I would like to think. The parents are weaker than the children.
桜桃が出た。
Cherries were brought out.
私の家では、子供たちに、ぜいたくなものを食べさせない。子供たちは、桜桃など、見た事も無いかもしれない。食べさせたら、よろこぶだろう。父が持って帰ったら、よろこぶだろう。蔓を糸でつないで、首にかけると、桜桃は、珊瑚の首飾りのように見えるだろう。
In my house we do not give the children expensive things to eat. The children may never even have seen cherries. If they were given them they would be delighted. If their father brought some home they would be delighted. If the stems were tied together with thread and hung around the neck, the cherries would look like a coral necklace.
しかし、父は、大皿に盛られた桜桃を、極めてまずそうに食べては種を吐き、食べては種を吐き、食べては種を吐き、そうして心の中で虚勢みたいに呟く言葉は、子供よりも親が大事。
But the father, eating the cherries heaped on the large dish with an air of the greatest distaste, spits out a stone, eats and spits out a stone, eats and spits out a stone, and the words he mutters inwardly, like a show of bravado, are: parents matter more than children.