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 Canto I 

Expressway taxi on the highway

In the traffic, on the highway,

On the elevated highway,

Sat she, Sweetest of the Sweet Peas,

Sat she, Greenest of the Green Beans,

In the back seat of the taxi.

In the traffic-snarled taxi.

(Ah-O-Ma-Mey)

Aomame, queen apparent

Of the land beneath the moonscapes,

Queen unknown to those around her,

Known not by herself or others,

Queen sublunary, was resting

In the back seat of the taxi.

To the radio she listened,

Eyes half shut and softly breathing.

Driver-Chauffeur, are you listening

To this music, strange and wondrous,

While your fare, back-seat reclining,

Lightly shut her eyes unseeing,

Grasps this music to her bosom,

Wondering why she recognises

Music puzzling, made obscurely?

Driver-Chauffeur, silent, watchful,

Are you reading fortune’s blazes

In the stalled stream of the traffic?

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Aomame read her history.

Played some softball, prized them both. Both were equal

History she does her best in.

“Why do others have such trouble?

When years and months and days, mere numbers,

Follow one another, ordered?

No tricks, no traps, all rhyme and reason,

It's no problem to remember

Dates historic, dates important,

At least for me, a student humble.”

Aomame sees this history,

On the sidewalks, on the highways,

In the parlors or the trick bars.

Count the people, tapping feet and

Slightly nodding to this music

On the broadcast of this program.

Count the people who can name the

Writer, maker, song composer

Of this strange and wondrous music

From the plains of old Bohemia.

Count these people on one hand or 

Count these people on one finger.

Why should she, our Greenest Greenbean

Be the one ‘can do the naming?

Be the one who does the knowing

Of Janácek, Maestro, Master? 

“Couldn’t say,”  thought Aomame,

“Why indeed would it be me who

Knows the name of this strange music?

Knows the name of its composer?

Knows the era of its writing?

Knows the place of its creation?”

Czechs compose the strangest music

That evokes the strangest feelings,

Feelings from the years before us.

Sixty Summers, sixty winters,

Sixty winds crossed old Bohemia,

Sixty suns basked peaceful drinkers

In cafes, to danger blinded

Of the evil on their doorstep.

Kafka bailed two years before this,

Kafka bailed unknown, un-noted,

Hitler now, unknown, un-noted,

Plans destruction 

For this presence, peaceful, calming;

Now so calm, without his hardships.

Aomame is her real name.

Fukushima was the cradle

Of her family’s birth and entry

To this world of pain and sorrow.

Was the origin of troubles

 

Business cards, for working needed,

Caused more trouble than they offset,

People looked, then hemming and hawing, 

Tried to guess which bean was mentioned. 

“Kentucky Wonder? Are you waiting?

“Fava? Stringless? Here on business?”

“I shall tell you, I’m not that fancy.

“No, not soybean, not vanilla,

“Not a bean bag, not for coffee,

“Just plain Green Bean, that’ll suit me,

“Just plain green bean, it’s all I am.”