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So there I am, sitting in the office, translating something about this year’s crop of literary award winners. Someone comes over with a phone message for me: “Call this cellphone now.” I do, and it’s a National Diet member. I’ve written some speeches for him in the past (he speaks good English and gives talks overseas from time to time).
Today he wants something different. “There’s this song,” he says, “that I’m trying to understand. Help me out.” And I fire up the browser and get the lyrics to Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Boxer” up on my screen. We go through it, word by word, line by line, talking about the “poor boy whose story’s seldom told” and wondering whether he’s the same person as the boxer in the last verse, or whether that fighter is a symbol of enduring the hardships life throws at us.
After we get it all straightened out to his satisfaction, he thanks me, tells me mata yoroshiku, and hangs up. Now I’m back to the literature stuff. Very odd.
I do have that song stuck in my head now . . . it’s a nice one to have there.
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