Japanese-English Translation Sample


Bridge of Glory

There were tears I didn’t show to anyone.
There were tears I shed with nobody noticing.
My path has never been smooth, but
It’s the path I definitely walked along.
Still in the way to my dream I envisioned at that time.
The dream I felt like abandoning many times.

Getting through many days, I have reached here.
So, I have only to keep going without hesitation
Toward the bridge of glory…

There were nights I couldn’t sleep, feeling chagrined.
There were nights I shivered in fear.
Even when I was about to run away, getting fed up with everything and giving up,
I remember, many people supported me in carrying on.
Beyond sorrow and hardship, there exists the light for each of us.
Let’s go. All we have to do is to start off without turning back.
Toward the sky filled with hope…

There were tears I didn’t show to anyone.
There were tears I shed with nobody noticing.
Getting through many days, I have reached here.
So, I have only to keep going without hesitation
Toward the bridge of glory.
For the endless journey.
To the bridge to your heart.

日本語原稿 (original text)



英訳サンプル (translation sample)

 An old man is bedridden in a hut at a corner of a small shrine on the western outskirts of Hiroshima City. He is 75 years old. He was exposed to the radiation of the atomic bomb in his house located 1 kilometer from the hypocenter. The ceiling collapsed and he was injured by shards of glass. On the third day after the atomic bombing, he moved to his parents’ house in the same prefecture, but he suffered from a high fever of 40 degrees Celsius, dizziness, vomiting blood, and hair loss. Then, he lost his teeth, his bleeding was unstoppable, and purple blotches appeared on his entire body. In October of that year, his symptoms finally subsided, but he reeled when he stood up.
 After his fruit store was burned, he opened an open-air shop in the nearby black market, but his body was not able to endure hard work, and so he closed the shop several years later. Around that time, his wife, who was also exposed to atomic radiation, died of leukemia. His eldest son, who was working in an unemployment relief project, said, “My father has no money, and so I don’t need to take care of him.” They quarreled. He lived in his second and third sons’ houses, but the sons became aloof, and he left their houses.
 Four years ago, a doctor at the Japanese Red Cross Hospital recommended, “You have leukemia. This is an atomic-bomb disease, and so you need to be hospitalized.” Then, he spent two and a half years on a bed of Genbaku Hospital. He mentioned, “Around that time, I lacked blood, and my heart was agonizing, it was intolerable.”
 His misfortune continued. In a bathroom of Genbaku Hospital, he stepped on a small bar of soap and slipped, and injured his lower back. Then, he suffered from neuralgia.
 He was discharged from the hospital, but he had no place to go. He relied on an acquaintance, and moved to a desolate shrine pavilion. All he can do is to go to Genbaku Hospital once a week for the treatments for anemia and neuralgia. Other than that, he just lies on his bed. The hospital is located far from his residence, and so he asked for hospitalization several times, but hospital staff replied, “Currently, our beds are fully occupied. When a bed becomes vacant, we will allow your hospitalization.” So he is awaiting his second hospitalization.
 He thought of entering a nursing home, but staff said, “You have sons, and so please consult with them…” He muttered, “But, I don’t feel like consulting with my sons.”

The Asahi Shimbun Company (1967), Atomic Bombs--Testimonies of 500 People, pp.120-121

日本語原稿 (original text)

 それなのに、ある日、夫の親たちがもらした一言はこたえた。「孫が弱いのは、嫁が被爆者だからではないか」というのだ。このときも、彼女は黙っていた。 そんなとき、心の底を打ち明けて、思い切り泣くことができる実家があれば、どんなによいだろう。せめて、姉が生きていてくれたなら・・・。


英訳サンプル (translation sample)

 A housewife (34 years old), mother of two, from Hiroshima was also lonely as she responded to the question crisply saying that her life was stable at the moment.
 When she was a student at a girls’ school, she was assigned to a labor service and was exposed to radiation from the atomic bomb in front of Hiroshima Station, to which she lost her mother and three younger brothers at the same time. Her father managed to survive the atomic bomb, but died several years later. Her older sister, the only person she had left, cared for her, but she too died tragically.
 When she was going to be married, people surrounding her husband strongly opposed him marrying a bomb victim, but her husband pushed forward. To answer his love, she has been cheerful, determined not to whine or complain. Since the exposure to the radiation, her poor health causes her weariness, but she has never been bedridden except for during childbirth.
 Despite all this, her parents-in-law made a distressing comment one day. They said, “We think the reason why our grandchild is so sickly is because the wife is an atomic bomb victim.” At that time, she remained silent. In moments like these, how nice it would be if she had her parents’ home to return to so she could pour out her soul and cry her eyes out. Or at the very least, if only her older sister was still alive…
 She has no sanctuary to relieve the strain on her soul. She has been blessed with a gentle, thoughtful husband, but he is still not an atomic bomb victim. Therefore, she feels a distance between them, and tends to refrain from confiding in anyone about her worries. When she visits her family grave, she quietly leaves alone, without asking her husband to come with her.
 Once, she went to a gathering in Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park on August 6, which is the Atomic Bomb Memorial Day. However, the scene of the gathering seemed like a bustling festival, and it seemed to her that the incense sticks and floral tributes placed in front of the memorial monument were ruined by the visitors from other regions. Because of this, she avoids this day, and visits her family grave at the foot of Mt. Hiji on August 15, which is both the anniversary of the end of the war and the Bon holiday.
 It seems that all of the victims of the atomic bomb hate the bustle of the ceremony held at the epicenter of the atomic bomb on the Atomic Bomb Memorial Day.

The Asahi Shimbun Company (1967), Atomic Bombs--Testimonies of 500 People, pp.195-196

日本語原稿 (original text)



英訳サンプル (translation sample)

 I was working in the office of a teacher’s college when the atomic bomb fell. The college itself burned down, and students who had been injured outside poured into the college, one after the other. My house was less than 1 kilometer from the hypocenter. My wife and three daughters, the eldest aged five, the second aged three, and the youngest a newborn, were trapped under the house when it collapsed. A middle school student passing by dug them out, but my eldest daughter was severely injured by shards of glass. The third day after the bombing was when I found my wife and children at a naval hospital in Omura. My wife died, along with my eldest and youngest daughters.
 My brother’s family in my hometown of Kumamoto took care of my surviving second daughter, but her hair fell out and she became very pale. The neighborhood children teased her, calling her “green eggplant,” “atomic girl,” and “baldy,” but she was too weak even to cry. In order to keep my daughter close by, I remarried. She finally managed to get into a middle school and got better. After graduating from high school, she learned how to make dresses, became a designer, and moved to Tokyo to work and study advanced dressmaking skills. She wrote me a letter saying she had found a would-be husband, but wrote again shortly afterwards, saying, “His parents found out that I am an A-bomb survivor, and are opposing our marriage. I’m giving up.” The torment she went through brought me face-to-face once again with the horror of the atomic bomb, all the more so because she is such a strong-willed girl. But it seems there is nothing I can do but bear it silently.

The Asahi Shimbun Company (1967), Atomic Bombs--Testimonies of 500 People, p.56



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