Tomino's hell, the cursed poem

« Tomino's hell, the cursed poem Tomino's Hell is a Japanese poem that you must not read aloud.

Published in 1919 by saijo yaso, this poem is known to be cursed.

The Rumour says that if you read the poem out loud you will suffer from misfortune, illness, could have an accident or worse, even die. Saijo was born in Tokyo in 1892. He came in France to study in Sorbonne in 1924 for 2 year and then return in Japan where he will teach French literature. Known mainly for his work for children, he also wrote some "strange" poem as Tomino's Hell.

Which is often compared to “gloomy Sunday” aka the “the suicide song”.

Well, remember the song at the start? Wait don’t get scared! Indeed, a lot of Saijo’s other works are rather described as gloomy and melancholic. But well, what is Tomino's hell is about? For a bit of context, I am going to read you the poem, translated by David Bowles.

I personally guess that the curse only applies to the original version. 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 Avicii, 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 spiralling 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 be 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. We can start by saying.... »