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first thing you see are the two poplars, standing on that hill like beacons for all
to see. I can't clearly explain my feeling-- perhaps it's because the memories of
childhood are particularly precious, or maybe it has something to do with my
being a professional artist--but anyway, every time I leave the train and start
driving homeward across the plain, I stare my eyes out while still a long way off
to see if my dear poplars are there safe and sound. Tall though they are, I could
hardly expect to see them from that distance, but to me they are always visible
and tangible.
The many times I drove back to Kurkureu from faraway places, I always had
that nostalgic feeling: “Will I see my twin poplars soon? Will I ever reach home?
All I want is to go up that hill and stand under the trees for a long, long time,
listening to the murmur of their leaves.”
Later, many years later, I discovered the secret of the poplars. They Stand on a
rise, open to all winds, the slightest motion of the air affects them, and their
every leaf responds sensitively to the tiniest breeze.
The discovery of this simple truth did not disappoint me in the least, nor did it
rob me of my childish attitude towards them, which I retain to this day. And to
this day I think of those two poplars on the hill as wonderful, living things.
There, at their foot, I left my childhood, like a broken piece of green magic glass..
On the last day of school before our summer holidays began, a crowd of us
would go there to rifle birds' nests, racing up the hill with whoops and yells.
And the giants, swaying from side to side, seemed to be murmuring an
invitation for us to come into their cool shade. But we, a bunch of barefooted
scamps, would scramble up into the branches and raise havoc in the birds'
kingdom. The birds would take wing and wheel above our heads with loud
cries. But we didn't care. What was it to us? We climbed higher and higher--let's
see who's the nimblest and bravest! And then suddenly, as if by magic, we'd see
a beautiful world of space and light unfolding before us. The grandeur of that
world was staggering. With bated breath we'd gaze down, spellbound and
motionless, each on his own branch, and forget all about our nest-rifling plans.
The collective farm stables, which we had always thought the biggest building
in the world, appeared no grander than an ordinary woodshed. And beyond the
village stretched the virgin steppe, floating, it seemed, in a shimmering haze.
Peering into the bluish distance we would see more land whose existence we
who else? ........ 
