Chen-ou Liu's Translation Project: First English-Chinese Haiku and Tanka Blog

Friday, April 27, 2012

Autumn Haiku

is there space
between day and dream?
autumn twilight   


German Translation

ist da noch Platz
zwischen Tag und Traum?
Herbstzwielicht 


Chrysanthemum, 11, April 2012

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Plum Haiku

plum blossoms . . .
I shake off all thoughts
of returning home


Acorn, #28, Spring 2012
Editor's Choice Haiku

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Spring Tanka

distant howl…
in what remains of this spring night
I hear
the echo of footsteps
inside my mind


Every Day Poets (April 16, 2012)

Monday, April 23, 2012

A Kyoka

back from shopping...
the reflection in the glass
of my car
a Chinese guy
with a dark hoodie

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Easter Tanka

her pale face
and a ragged Barbie's...
framed by the window
of a group home
in Easter sunlight


PoemHunter (April 15, 2012)

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Friday, April 20, 2012

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

A Tanka about China

one more sip
of my Starbucks latte...
through the window
Chairman Mao's stern face
above the Tiananmen Gate


Notes from the Gean, 3:4, March 2012

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Moon Tanka

thick, congealed
blood on the moonlit floor…
ten years later
slowly a face
takes shape in my mind


Notes from the Gean, 3:4, March 2012

Monday, April 16, 2012

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Saturday, April 14, 2012

A Haiku about Takuboku Day

Ishikawa Takuboku (Feb.20, 1886 –Apr. 13, 1912)
the most beloved tanka poet

reading Poems to Eat
What’s the use of poetry?
she asks with big eyes


Note: Takubok's work and his concept of "poems to eat" had inspired me to try my hand at tanka.

The following is an excerpt from my Simply Haiku interview with Robert D. Wilson, in which I explain my change from writing free verse poetry to tanka and briefly analyze his work.

RDW:  A follow up question, what brought the change from writing free verse poetry to tanka?

CL:  After almost a year of striving to write so-called free verse poetry without much success, I came across a book of tanka poetry, Sad Toy, written by Ishikawa Takuboku and translated by Sanford Goldstein and Seishi Shinoda. In the introduction, Takuboku emphasized that

“My mind, which was yearning after some indescribable thing from morning to night, could find an outlet to some extent only by making poems. And I had absolutely nothing except that mind… I want to say this: a very complicated process was needed to turn actual feelings into poetry… Poetry must not be what is usually called poetry. It must be an exact report, an honest diary, of the changes in a man’s emotional life. Accordingly, it must be fragmentary; it must not have organization… Each second is one which never comes back in our life. I hold it dear. I don’t want to let it pass without doing anything for it. To express that moment, tanka, which is short and takes not much time to compose, is most convenient…”

The emotional power, socio-political sensibilities and colloquial language of Takuboku’s tanka, a kind of poetry in the moment and for the moment, appealed to me, and I came to view tanka as a poetic diary that recorded the changes in the emotional life of the poet. I went on to read Carl Sesar’s Takuboku: Poems to Eat, and got a deeper understanding of Takuboku’s conception of a new kind of poetry, “poems to eat:”

“The name means poems made with both feet upon the ground. It means poems written without putting any distance from actual life. They are not delicacies, or dainty dishes, but food indispensable for us in our daily meal. To define poetry in this way may be to pull it down from its established position, but to me it means to make poetry, which has added nothing or detracted nothing from actual life, into something which cannot be dispensed with.”

In some aspects, Takuboku’s view on poetry is similar to that of Dionne Brand: “Poetry is here, just here. Something wrestling with how we live… something honest.” Since encountering Takuboku’s poetry, I started writing tanka as a diary and kept on reading books of or on tanka.  Some of these books opened up a new world for me.

I console myself a little by turning the self at each moment into words and reading them.  
-- Ishikawa Takuboku

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Autumn Tanka

standing
in the middle of the tracks
facing
an oncoming streetcar --
the sound of falling leaves


Sketchbook, 7:1, January/February 2012

Monday, April 9, 2012

Summer Tanka

I am alone
looking out the window
where we sat
to watch the summer moon...
hearing the sound of stars


Sketchbook, 7:1, January/February 2012

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Saturday, April 7, 2012

A Tanka

he who would search
for the pearls in poetry
must dive below...
the editor is just busy
reading between the lines


Sketchbook, 7:1, January/February 2012

Friday, April 6, 2012

Winter Tanka

sleepless again
a homeless man counts the stars
in the winter sky...
A number is never
just a number


Rabble

A Tanka

the bullet plows
through his brain and exits
behind his left ear...
against the attic wall
dusty Angels in America


Sketchbook, 7:1, January/February 2012

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Moon Tanka

at midnight
I wake and pat at the side
of the bed...
my hand is touched
by the chilly moonlight


Sketchbook, 7:1, January/February 2012

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Winter Tanka

a human foot
inside a running shoe
washes ashore...
seagulls squawking
through the winter sky


Sketchbook, 7:1, January/February 2012

Sunday, April 1, 2012