Rainbow shimmers
above an old blue jeans sky
rain falling in holes
Fingernail moon falls
in a surprise of snowflakes
In my ISED Adult Ed class, an artist presented haiku as her teaching lesson, she used word cards so all the nouns were hers. She gave few directions—other than the usual 17 syllable 5-7-5 routine.
No matter than in Japanese, each single syllable character is an idea unto itself, often worth three to ten words in English. Unlike English, Japanese naturally rhythmically falls into the 5-7-5 pattern and easily rhymes. And there are no ifs ands or buts to clutter the concept... They're often not even written in three lines!
Haiku is the most completely untranslatable poetic form. Brush strokes of songs to be uttered in one breath. What is missing in translation is the wordplay: the double entendre, the pun, assonance, alliteration, onomatopoeia, the asymmetrical caesura of cutting words, and front rhymes.
Then there's the translation issue. Take Basho's:
Furuike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizo no oto (1681)
variously translated as:
Old pond
frog jumps in
sound of water
old pond...
a frog leaps in
water's sound
Old mossy pond
frog jump
water sound
I would have printed several traditional haiku:
Now listen you watermelons
if any thieves come—
Quick! Turn into frogs!
if any thieves come—
Quick! Turn into frogs!
—Issa
I would have added, use three painterly images:
What: Invoke a hoku (a stand alone line)
use one or more of the senses—often a memory from the past,
Where: a sense of place—use images from nature
When: include a kogu, a seasonal reference (or a signal word)
No "I" should enter the poem. Think epigrams, three snapshots or telegrams reduced down to a bare minimum of words. "Little drops of poetic essence," as Sir George Sansom wrote.
Then there's the hidden dualism: near and far, foreground/background, then and now, past and present, sound and silence, temporality and infinity.
Then I would mention the idea of Renga, or linked (verse/song) haiku: 5-7-5; 7-7; 5-7-5.... (The word for verse or song is the same in Japanese.) Pat Nolan was a great fan of renga, and often invited me into the workshops...
Moon madness shining
a dark sky of illusions
pearl tears of tired stars
a dark sky of illusions
pearl tears of tired stars
Stars wear a necklace of light
a song for the sun’s mirror
Can I please stop now?
Hard writing in syllables
A sign of madness.
Most of this is from my poetry teaching notes from ca. 1981 to 2001, when I was teaching it in the schools in CPITS workshops. I didn't reference my notes back then but I suspect I leaned on Bill Higgenson's book a lot. And haiku invariably came up in poetry workshops I attended in the 1980s. Bob Hass was playing around with Basho and Issa way back then.
Old yellow moon
snails crying in a saucepan
Bob Hass
-----------------------------
From Writers' Digest:
21 two prompts for the day (you only need to choose one):
1. Write a haiku. The haiku is not just a form but a genre of poetry. People sometimes go into writing a haiku and end up with a senryu or a faux-ku.
Most haiku deals with natural topics and avoid metaphor and simile. While most poets agree that haiku have three short lines, there is disagreement on how long those lines are. Traditional haiku poets insist on 17 syllables in lines of 5/7/5. Other contemporary haiku poets feel that the first and third lines can be any length as long as they're shorter than the middle line. Haiku do not have to include complete sentences or thoughts. They do not have titles. The best haiku contain some shift in the final line.
2. Write about the haiku. I know there are some poets (in this very group even) who are anti-form. So, I'm giving them the option to write their anti-haiku manifestos. Of course, if you pay attention to this 2nd prompt, it doesn't need to be anti-haiku; your poem could be questioning or even praising the haiku. Or something.
-----------------------------------------
More random notes I've collected on haiku over the years (in no particular order):
old pond.....
a frog leaps in
water's sound
-- Matsuo Basho
translated by William J. Higginson.
This is the most famous and most commonly recited haiku in Japanese; most Westerners, though, are utterly bewildered by it. I confess that I can't make out what it's about either, so I'll content myself with sending you a whole bunch of extracts from various sources.
About Haiku:
Haiku is a poetic form which takes nature in each season as its theme and expresses inspiration derived from nature. Since the natural world transforms itself swiftly and since inspiration is fleeting, they must be caught in words quick, short and precise. The traditional rules for haiku are that each verse uses seven or eight words, a total of only seventeen rhythmical syllables (5-7- 5), including a season word. In diction haiku values simple words over obscure and difficult ones.
Students learn Japanese Haiku in Japanese language class usually during the fall term of high school. They study the great Haiku poets of the past 300 years. In Matsuyama they study the modern poets too (1993 was considered the 100th anniversary of modern Haiku poetry and 1994 is the 300th anniversary of Basho's death). The opportunity to write Haiku in English is a novel idea for many Japanese. In a second language, the rigid rules of form and specific words can be relaxed.
The best Haiku is clearly written; without metaphor, personification and other literary devices. Simple, clear images written in their shortest form possible but arranged so the words last as long as possible in the mind is the power of Haiku. It can be easily understood from the direct words, but these words often contain a stronger message that has to be searched for. A significant image is produced. Haiku speaks in parables of life.
About today's poem:
Matsuo Basho (1644 - 1694) was a leading haiku master and is known throughout the world.
On a misty rainy day he was walking alone. It was very quiet around an old pond of mossy water, then a frog just leapt into it making a little sound. The momentary action and the lingering sound reminded him of the wonder of a moment and eternity. He composed that famous haiku:
furuike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto
In this haiku, 'ya ' is a technical haiku-cutting word (kireji). It does not have specific meaning but it is used to arrange Japanese syllables and express subtle or sometimes deep feelings and an exclamation or an interjection.
[you can think of 'ya' as being equivalent to 'stop' or 'behold' in English - t.]
An essay:
'On ants and poets'
When ten poets each endeavour to write about an ant, the result should be ten different ant haiku. If any of these haiku resemble another, the poet has only been observing the ant superficially or has based their haiku on their preconceptual image of an ant. Let us look not at our ants but rather into them. Surely the ant will speak to us. Ah!! Now quickly write down what caused that feeling of discovery. This is your ant and yours alone. Your "ant" must now be expressed in a fixed poetic form. In Japanese a count of 17 syllables (5,7,5) is used. This expression should be in your own words, as they come naturally to you. If your haiku has captured a Truth, there is no need to decorate your poem with flowery words. One should, however, keep in mind some of the main characteristics of haiku.
1. To state without stating. In order to say ten things a haiku presents only two. Due to its length, every word is of the utmost importance.
2. A haiku is like a cross-section which gives the observer a new perspective and restimulates their thoughts on the object as a whole.
3. When juxtaposing one must be careful that the two elements do not fit together too well. Their relationship must be "surprising".
4. Seasonal words (kigo) are very important to haiku. However in the modern world where the seasons have lost much of their omnipotency and where we wish to share our haiku internationally a more relaxed stance on kigo may be called for. Kigo need not necessarily place a haiku in any particular season but could rather be included simply to relate the haiku to the natural world.
One cannot make good haiku simply by going about one's life in a day-to-day fashion. It is necessary to hone one's senses to the world around one and take an interest in all things great and small.
- Yoko Sugawa
And another essay (written in the most wonderful Japanese English):
What a short life cherry blossoms have! The miserable April rain and wind blew them off, and now fresh green willows are whispering with azaleas on the water of the castle moat. Here comes early summer. In the blue sky, carp are swimming. Wonderful weather! It will soon rain. Everything is changing in this world, but still how small we remain. As long as we are alive, we have to recognize the transience of our life, then we experience a moment that something attracts us, and when we see changing nature, when we watch people, maybe, sometimes, we want to express that feeling or impression. It is that moment when we can compose a Haiku.
thomas.
From: "Tanawade, Vandana"
There is another very beautiful translation for this haiku.
'In the old pond
A frog jumps in...
With a splash!'
And yes it is about 'The momentary action and the lingering sound that reminded the poet of the wonder of a moment and eternity.'
*The translation at the top of the page is from The Haiku Handbook: How to Write, Share, and Teach Haiku, by William J. Higginson with Penny Harter, published by Kodansha International and copyright © 1985 William J. Higginson. Used by permission of the translator.
--------------------------------------
Please note: Since I worked about 8 years perfecting this translation, I do feel some proprietary rights in it. Anyone wishing to quote it on the Web--or anywhere else--is asked to contact me and obtain permission first.
Best wishes,
Bill Higginson:
old pond . . .
a frog leaps in
water's sound
-- Matsuo Basho
The last "o" in "Basho" is long, and would normally appear in English type with a macron.
One more time,
Bill Higginson
PS: Regarding Hofstadter's thoughts on this poem in *Le Ton Beau de Marot* (pp. 523, 552-556), he mistakenly assumes that what Japanese poets count has some metrical counterpart in English syllables. Not so. He also assumes, from one epigraph to the chapter, that haiku is "A lyrical Japanese verse form stemming from Zen Buddhism . . ." (an epigraph he seems to have fabricated himself, since he cites no source for it). Wrong again. Haiku "stems from" hokku, which derives from haikai, the popular (read "vulgar") form of Japanese linked poetry that dominated the Tokugawa Era (about 1600-1868). In fact, Hiroaki Sato's version of this poem, aside from its unfortunate dash separating the second and third phrases, parallels the original quite nicely as to both rhythm and meaning: "An old pond: a frog jumps in--the sound of water." (There is no forced pause at the end of the second rhythmical unit in the original.) For those who enjoy chasing translations of this poem, see Sato's excellent book, *One Hundred Frogs*, preferably in its first edition (1983).
On the Zen bit, suffice it to say that Christians have written sonnets, quite nice sonnets, but I've never heard a Japanese--or anyone else--claim that the sonnet "stems from" Christianity. Some Zennists today may incorporate haiku-writing into
their "practice" as Zennists, or say that they do. Other Zennists also may happen to write haiku. This does not make haiku any more allied with Zen Buddhism than Petrarch's or Donne's sonnets make sonnets allied with Roman or Anglican Catholicism, though the latter certainly expressed some of his religious ideas in that form.
There are stained glass objects that illuminate Christian themes, others that illuminate those of other religions, and still others that simply help illuminate the interiors they shelter from the wind or shield a lamp from dust. All are stained glass, however.
Bless All,
Bill Higginson
------------------------
William J. Higginson
P. O. Box 2740
Santa Fe, NM 87504 USA
1-505-438-3249 tel & fax
http://renku.home.att.net
http://wordfield.home.att.net
From: "Bieler, Jack"
Allen Ginsberg did a musical translation of this haiku on his album, "First Blues." It is a blues rag with Ginsberg's characteristic irreverence, humor, transcendent philosophy, and soul-ripping honesty. The Bashou foundation verse in his rendering:
The Old Pond
A Frog Jumps In
Kerplunk!
This converts the literal "sound of water" to onomatopoeia, which hits you in the face like a splash and grabs the moment. I think it is actually an improvement!
Ginsberg studied the structure of poems, especially William Blake's, and imputed the melodic structures that would be appropriate for them. He said of the "Songs of Innocence and Experience" that they likely were set to music originally. Many of his musical reconstructions can be found on "First Blues" and other recordings.
Jack Bieler
Teaching Assistant, Naropa Institute, Summer 1981
Otomo No Yakamochi
Two Tanka
From outside my house,
only the faint distant sound
of gentle breezes
wandering through bamboo leaves
in the long evening silence.
Late evening finally
comes: I unlatch the door
and quietly
await the one
who greets me in my dreams.
-- Otomo No Yakamochi, (718-785)
Translated by Sam Hamill.
: an unrhymed Japanese verse form of five lines containing 5, 7, 5, 7,
and 7 syllables respectively; also : a poem in this form
[from www.americantanka.com]
Tanka are 31-syllable poems that have been the most popular form of poetry in Japan for at least 1300 years. As a form of poetry, tanka is older than haiku, and tanka poems evoke a moment or mark an occasion with concision and musicality.
During Japan's Heian period (794-1185 A.D.) it was considered essential for a woman or man of culture to be able to both compose beautiful poetry and to choose the most aesthetically pleasing and appropriate paper, ink, and symbolic attachment---such as a branch, a flower---to go with it.
Tanka were often composed as a kind of finale to every sort of occasion; no experience was quite complete until a tanka had been written about it.
Tanka have changed and evolved over the centuries, but the form of five syllabic units containing 31 syllables has remained the same.Topics have expanded from the traditional expressions of passion and heartache, and styles have changed to include modern language and even colloquialisms.
In Japanese, tanka is often written in one straight line, but in English and other languages, we usually divide the lines into the five syllabic units: 5-7-5-7-7. Usually, each line consists of one image or idea; unlike English poetry, one does not seek to "wrap" lines in tanka, though in the best tanka the five lines often flow seamlessly into one thought.
Wa ga yado no
isasamuratake
fuku kaze no
oto no kasokeki
kono yube ka mo
Yu saraba
yado ake makete
ware matamu
ime ni aimi ni
komu tou hito o
scent of plum blossoms
on the misty mountain path
a big rising sun
-- Matsuo Basho
We're in the middle of cherry blossom season here in Japan, and the country is going through its annual bout of spring fever. To understand why, it helps to know a bit of Japanese history...
In 1600, Tokugawa Ieyasu put an end to several hundred years of constant fighting among Japan's feudal (and feuding) lords, and established himself as the first Shogun (I think the word means 'commander-in-chief', but I'm not sure). This marked the beginning of the Edo period of Japanese history - although the Emperor still nominally ruled the country from his palace in Kyoto, the real power was centred in the eastern city of Edo (modern day Tokyo).
During the Edo period, the upper classes were bound by a rigid code of honour. The heads of noble families (the 'daimyo') were obliged to spend half of every year in Edo, and the other half in their personal fiefs; their wives and children, however, were forced to remain in the capital, courtesy the 'hospitality' of the Shogun. The ruinous expenditures of shifting residence every six months, coupled with the fact that their families were virtual hostages of the ruler, meant that the daimyo were never able to mount a successful challenge against the authority of the Shogun, and the system remained stable (and completely isolated from the outside world) for over 250 years.
It was during this period that the Samurai rose to prominence. Originally the armed retainers of the daimyo, it was recognized (most shrewdly, by the Shoguns) that they were the real wielders of power in what was essentially a medieval society. The Samurai developed their own code of honour, in which loyalty and stoicism played prominent roles; this code has survived virtually unchanged to this date, and it forms an important part of modern Japanese society and culture.
So, where does the sakura feature in all of this? Over time, the humble cherry blossom became a symbol of the Samurai and their code - starkly beautiful, short-lived, and glorious in death. When the Shogunate was finally overthrown in 1868 and the Emperor Meiji was restored to the throne, cherry trees all over Japan were cut down - the Emperor (a modernising nationalist) wanted no reminders of the feudal past to remain. Today, though, the sakura tree has regained its place in the national consciousness, and every spring, the Japanese indulge themselves in an orgy of celebration when the delicate pink blossoms finally make their appearance after a cold and bare winter. The time is right to go to a park, spread out a mat, drink sake, and do hanami ('hana' = flower, 'mi' = see).
thomas.
ume ga ka ni
notto hinoderu
yamaji kana
One cannot make good haiku simply by going about one's life in a day-to-day fashion. It is necessary to hone one's senses to the world around one and take an interest in all things great and small.
- Yoko Sugawa
And another essay (written in the most wonderful Japanese English):
What a short life cherry blossoms have! The miserable April rain and wind blew them off, and now fresh green willows are whispering with azaleas on the water of the castle moat. Here comes early summer. In the blue sky, carp are swimming. Wonderful weather! It will soon rain. Everything is changing in this world, but still how small we remain. As long as we are alive, we have to recognize the transience of our life, then we experience a moment that something attracts us, and when we see changing nature, when we watch people, maybe, sometimes, we want to express that feeling or impression. It is that moment when we can compose a Haiku.
thomas.
From: "Tanawade, Vandana"
There is another very beautiful translation for this haiku.
'In the old pond
A frog jumps in...
With a splash!'
And yes it is about 'The momentary action and the lingering sound that reminded the poet of the wonder of a moment and eternity.'
*The translation at the top of the page is from The Haiku Handbook: How to Write, Share, and Teach Haiku, by William J. Higginson with Penny Harter, published by Kodansha International and copyright © 1985 William J. Higginson. Used by permission of the translator.
--------------------------------------
Please note: Since I worked about 8 years perfecting this translation, I do feel some proprietary rights in it. Anyone wishing to quote it on the Web--or anywhere else--is asked to contact me and obtain permission first.
Best wishes,
Bill Higginson
old pond . . .
a frog leaps in
water's sound
-- Matsuo Basho
The last "o" in "Basho" is long, and would normally appear in English type with a macron.
One more time,
Bill Higginson
PS: Regarding Hofstadter's thoughts on this poem in *Le Ton Beau de Marot* (pp. 523, 552-556), he mistakenly assumes that what Japanese poets count has some metrical counterpart in English syllables. Not so. He also assumes, from one epigraph to the chapter, that haiku is "A lyrical Japanese verse form stemming from Zen Buddhism . . ." (an epigraph he seems to have fabricated himself, since he cites no source for it). Wrong again. Haiku "stems from" hokku, which derives from haikai, the popular (read "vulgar") form of Japanese linked poetry that dominated the Tokugawa Era (about 1600-1868). In fact, Hiroaki Sato's version of this poem, aside from its unfortunate dash separating the second and third phrases, parallels the original quite nicely as to both rhythm and meaning: "An old pond: a frog jumps in--the sound of water." (There is no forced pause at the end of the second rhythmical unit in the original.) For those who enjoy chasing translations of this poem, see Sato's excellent book, *One Hundred Frogs*, preferably in its first edition (1983).
On the Zen bit, suffice it to say that Christians have written sonnets, quite nice sonnets, but I've never heard a Japanese--or anyone else--claim that the sonnet "stems from" Christianity. Some Zennists today may incorporate haiku-writing into
their "practice" as Zennists, or say that they do. Other Zennists also may happen to write haiku. This does not make haiku any more allied with Zen Buddhism than Petrarch's or Donne's sonnets make sonnets allied with Roman or Anglican Catholicism, though the latter certainly expressed some of his religious ideas in that form.
There are stained glass objects that illuminate Christian themes, others that illuminate those of other religions, and still others that simply help illuminate the interiors they shelter from the wind or shield a lamp from dust. All are stained glass, however.
Bless All,
Bill Higginson
------------------------
William J. Higginson
P. O. Box 2740
Santa Fe, NM 87504 USA
1-505-438-3249 tel & fax
http://renku.home.att.net
http://wordfield.home.att.net
From: "Bieler, Jack"
Allen Ginsberg did a musical translation of this haiku on his album, "First Blues." It is a blues rag with Ginsberg's characteristic irreverence, humor, transcendent philosophy, and soul-ripping honesty. The Bashou foundation verse in his rendering:
The Old Pond
A Frog Jumps In
Kerplunk!
This converts the literal "sound of water" to onomatopoeia, which hits you in the face like a splash and grabs the moment. I think it is actually an improvement!
Ginsberg studied the structure of poems, especially William Blake's, and imputed the melodic structures that would be appropriate for them. He said of the "Songs of Innocence and Experience" that they likely were set to music originally. Many of his musical reconstructions can be found on "First Blues" and other recordings.
Jack Bieler
Teaching Assistant, Naropa Institute, Summer 1981
Otomo No Yakamochi
Two Tanka
From outside my house,
only the faint distant sound
of gentle breezes
wandering through bamboo leaves
in the long evening silence.
Late evening finally
comes: I unlatch the door
and quietly
await the one
who greets me in my dreams.
-- Otomo No Yakamochi, (718-785)
Translated by Sam Hamill.
: an unrhymed Japanese verse form of five lines containing 5, 7, 5, 7,
and 7 syllables respectively; also : a poem in this form
[from www.americantanka.com]
Tanka are 31-syllable poems that have been the most popular form of poetry in Japan for at least 1300 years. As a form of poetry, tanka is older than haiku, and tanka poems evoke a moment or mark an occasion with concision and musicality.
During Japan's Heian period (794-1185 A.D.) it was considered essential for a woman or man of culture to be able to both compose beautiful poetry and to choose the most aesthetically pleasing and appropriate paper, ink, and symbolic attachment---such as a branch, a flower---to go with it.
Tanka were often composed as a kind of finale to every sort of occasion; no experience was quite complete until a tanka had been written about it.
Tanka have changed and evolved over the centuries, but the form of five syllabic units containing 31 syllables has remained the same.Topics have expanded from the traditional expressions of passion and heartache, and styles have changed to include modern language and even colloquialisms.
In Japanese, tanka is often written in one straight line, but in English and other languages, we usually divide the lines into the five syllabic units: 5-7-5-7-7. Usually, each line consists of one image or idea; unlike English poetry, one does not seek to "wrap" lines in tanka, though in the best tanka the five lines often flow seamlessly into one thought.
Wa ga yado no
isasamuratake
fuku kaze no
oto no kasokeki
kono yube ka mo
Yu saraba
yado ake makete
ware matamu
ime ni aimi ni
komu tou hito o
scent of plum blossoms
on the misty mountain path
a big rising sun
-- Matsuo Basho
We're in the middle of cherry blossom season here in Japan, and the country is going through its annual bout of spring fever. To understand why, it helps to know a bit of Japanese history...
In 1600, Tokugawa Ieyasu put an end to several hundred years of constant fighting among Japan's feudal (and feuding) lords, and established himself as the first Shogun (I think the word means 'commander-in-chief', but I'm not sure). This marked the beginning of the Edo period of Japanese history - although the Emperor still nominally ruled the country from his palace in Kyoto, the real power was centred in the eastern city of Edo (modern day Tokyo).
During the Edo period, the upper classes were bound by a rigid code of honour. The heads of noble families (the 'daimyo') were obliged to spend half of every year in Edo, and the other half in their personal fiefs; their wives and children, however, were forced to remain in the capital, courtesy the 'hospitality' of the Shogun. The ruinous expenditures of shifting residence every six months, coupled with the fact that their families were virtual hostages of the ruler, meant that the daimyo were never able to mount a successful challenge against the authority of the Shogun, and the system remained stable (and completely isolated from the outside world) for over 250 years.
It was during this period that the Samurai rose to prominence. Originally the armed retainers of the daimyo, it was recognized (most shrewdly, by the Shoguns) that they were the real wielders of power in what was essentially a medieval society. The Samurai developed their own code of honour, in which loyalty and stoicism played prominent roles; this code has survived virtually unchanged to this date, and it forms an important part of modern Japanese society and culture.
So, where does the sakura feature in all of this? Over time, the humble cherry blossom became a symbol of the Samurai and their code - starkly beautiful, short-lived, and glorious in death. When the Shogunate was finally overthrown in 1868 and the Emperor Meiji was restored to the throne, cherry trees all over Japan were cut down - the Emperor (a modernising nationalist) wanted no reminders of the feudal past to remain. Today, though, the sakura tree has regained its place in the national consciousness, and every spring, the Japanese indulge themselves in an orgy of celebration when the delicate pink blossoms finally make their appearance after a cold and bare winter. The time is right to go to a park, spread out a mat, drink sake, and do hanami ('hana' = flower, 'mi' = see).
thomas.
ume ga ka ni
notto hinoderu
yamaji kana
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