whatever would be considered ”too scary to handle” for someone else, whether that is being in the pitch-black dark, summoning an evil spirit like (bloody Mary) in the mirror, or talking to the dead people through a vintage, badly curved ouija board, I am the first to explore it.
I was lucky to stumble across a Japanese poem called “Tomino’s Hell” released in 1919 and recorded in the poetry collection Sakin. Rumor has it that if you read the poem out loud, you will either die or your soul will suffer eternally in hell. If you are wondering who was behind the creation of such a dark, witty, and eerie urban legend, his name was Saijō Yaso.
If you are not familiar, Saijō was a known Japanese poet who worked on children’s nursery rhymes and popular song lyrics. I wanted to do further research on the artist himself, but there was not much about him in English. The way I feel about the ”death rumors” regarding the poem is that I am a bit superstitious about it, but, in some way, but I beg to differ. if you think positively, your energy will attract good things to you, and if you think negatively then…you get my drift. But regardless of what I believe, I initiated a further review to see what was the mystery behind the meaning of the story.
take a look if you dare! But remember, don’t read it out loud!
Tomino’s Hell
The elder sister vomits blood, younger sister’s breathing fire. While sweet little Tomino just spits up the jewels. All alone does Tomino go falling into that hell, a hell of utter darkness, without even flowers. Is Tomino’s big sister the one who whips him? The purpose of the scourging hangs dark in his mind. Lashing and thrashing him, ah! But never quite shattering. One sure path to Avici, the eternal hell. Into that blackest of hells guide him now, I pray to the golden sheep, to the nightingale. How much did he put in that leather pouch to prepare for his trek to the eternal hell? Spring is coming to the valley, to the wood, to the spiraling chasms of the blackest hell. The nightingale in her cage, the sheep aboard the wagon, and tears well up in the eyes of sweet little Tomino. Sing, o nightingale, in the vast, misty forest he screams he only misses his little sister. His wailing desperation echoes throughout hell—a fox peony opens its golden petals. Down past the seven mountains and seven rivers of hell the solitary journey of sweet little Tomino. If in this hell they are found, may they then come to me, please, those sharp spikes of punishment from Needle Mountain. Not just on some empty whim is flesh pierced with blood-red pins: they serve as hellish signposts for sweet little Tomino.