【白秋はロックな詩人〜北原白秋「邪宗門秘曲（ロック）」】

 　北原白秋、と聞くと、真っ先に童謡のイメージを抱く。しかも、金子みすゞと並んで教科書に載るような実に優等生的名作ばかりで、荒みきった小生には退屈で仕方ない。だから、長い間ノータッチだったのだが、ふと「邪宗門」という言葉に引っかかるところがあり、「青空文庫」を閲覧してみて仰天した。かくもキレキレの白秋にお目にかかるのは、遅まきながら初めてだったのだ。童謡のイメージが見事に粉砕された瞬間だった。と同時に、ロックビートが耳に蘇ってきて、それで朗誦することにした。詩人の若き時は、なぜこうも尖っているのだろう。歳を取り名声や勲章を手にすると、鋭さはなまってしまうのか。政治にしろ芸術にしろ、「みんなに愛される」のは、結局「誰にも愛されない」ことか。「嫌われ者」が理想？

　When I hear the name Kitahara Hakushu, the first thing that comes to mind is children’s songs. And not just any children’s songs, but those impeccably “model-student” masterpieces that seem to belong in school textbooks alongside the poems of Kaneko Misuzu. For a jaded fellow like myself, they were simply too wholesome to be interesting.

　So for a long time, I left Kitahara completely untouched. But one day, the word Jashūmon somehow caught my attention. I looked it up on Aozora Bunko—and was astonished.

　This was the first time, late though it may have been, that I had encountered such a sharp-edged, dazzlingly intense Hakushū. In that moment, my image of him as a writer of children’s songs was shattered completely.

　At the same time, a rock beat came roaring back into my ears. And so I decided to recite the poem to that beat.

　Why is it that poets are so piercingly sharp when they are young? Does age dull that edge, once fame and medals have been won? In politics as in art, does being “loved by everyone” ultimately mean being truly loved by no one?

　Is the “unpopular outsider” the ideal after all?