Abstract

"A lie should be painful to tell," yet some people lie without hesitation. Some loudly assert falsehoods and brazenly stick to their stories. If lies are repeated, do they eventually become true? Is the world saturated more with falsehoods than with truth?

It's likely no one in this world is entirely incapable of telling a lie. But why do we do it?

There are lies slipped out unintentionally. Lies told to cover up a mistake. Lies told for self-preservation. And lies told to ensure the happiness of another.

Ultimately, are there such things as "acceptable lies" and "unacceptable lies," or "good lies" and "bad lies"? If they exist, what distinguishes them? Can their value be measured by standards of good/bad, or light/heavy?

Author’s Information

Poet. Born in Tokyo in 1931. In 1952, he published his first collection of poems, "Solitude of Two Billion Light-Years." In 1962, he won the 4th Japan Record Award for Best Lyrics with "Songs of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday." His work "Songs of Mother Goose" received the Japan Translation Culture Award in 1975, and "Daily Maps" earned him the 34th Yomiuri Literary Award in 1982. Among his numerous awards and publications, he received the inaugural Sakutaro Hagiwara Award in 1993 for "Worldly Unawareness."

Apart from poetry, he has a diverse body of work, including children's books, essays, translations, scripts, and lyrics. The poem "Lie" is one of the pieces from his 1988 collection, "Naked: Poems by Shuntaro Tanikawa" (illustrated by Yoko Sano).