
Lost and Found: Children’s Poet Kaneko Misuzu

Lost and Found: Children’s Poet Kaneko Misuzu
April 8, 2021
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| Constantine Kavafy |
The enigmatic queer poet admired by EM Forster and Jackie Onassis takes centre stage in this unconventional biography
Michael Nott
11 August 2025
The second floor of 10 Rue Lepsius, tucked away in the old Greek quarter of Alexandria above a brothel, was, for three decades, the literary focal point of the city. Entering the apartment, out of the Mediterranean sun, visitors would need a minute to adjust to the dimness, gradually perceiving faded curtains and heavy furniture, every surface covered with antiques and whimsical objects. There was no electricity, only candlelight. The host, proffering morsels of bread and cheese from the shadows, was an older man with “enigmatic eyes” beneath round spectacles – the poet Constantine Cavafy.

Lost and Found: Children’s Poet Kaneko Misuzu
March 10, 2021
The beginnings of serious Japanese writing for children date back to the early decades of the twentieth century. The fashion for writing dōyō, poetry and nursery rhymes that could be enjoyed by children and adults alike, is often dated to the publication of Akai tori (Red Bird), a children’s magazine, in July 1918. One young woman in particular shot across the scene at the height of the movement, producing numerous verses that earned her the praise of the poet Saijō Yaso as “the brightest star among all the young writers of poetry for children.” That woman was Kaneko Misuzu.
I sketch your outline from the lighthouse down to the city walls
Your iron eyes are glow hallucinated
Sea skips over stones and my soul’s got it wrong
Sun sinks into water and water is pure fire
You’re almost like a dream Almost a stone in time’s swaying
A tender archetype solid in these dim days
your way of soothing my tears
Letting loose your body against mine Mad
like a foal in prairie fire
Spilling your words on my knowledge
like a poison to heal absence
Recalling things used and forgotten
with a bright wondrous flight
It’s getting late my love Sea brings storms
A pale moon recalls your naval
And a few clouds light and slow like your hands
drink thirstily Like when I die up against your mouth