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

Showing posts with label Basho. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Basho. Show all posts

Saturday, July 28, 2018

The Old Man Who Read Basho

a body
under the outdoor staircase
crumpled balls of paper

He often came to the library shortly before it opened and wouldn’t leave until the chief librarian walked him out. He spent most of his time leafing through old encyclopedias and vintage copies of The Paris Review. He wasn’t much of a talker, but occasionally he gave a monologue on what he had read or thought about. I was one of his few (reluctant) listeners.

Recently, he had trespassed into the contemporary world, venturing onto the Internet, typing with one finger. The day before he died, he stopped me on the way out and surprised me by saying, “I've enjoyed reading some of your haiku on Twitter.” He slipped a piece of paper into my hand and left.

lotus pond …
all that remains
of frog song

Haibun Today, 12:2, June 2018

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Sunday, May 12, 2013

A Man Who Read Basho, A Haibun

he dies
under the staircase
an old dog

He often came to the library shortly before it opened and wouldn’t leave until the chief librarian kicked him out. He spent most of his time leafing through old encyclopedias and vintage copies of The Paris Review. He wasn’t much of a talker, but occasionally he did the monologuous talk-to-the-audience speech on what he had read or thought about.

The week before he died, he stopped me on the way out and surprised me by saying, “I've enjoyed reading some of your haiku and quotation tweets. My favorite is ‘to write haiku is to create an imaginary pond with real frogs in it.’” He then slipped a piece of crumpled paper into my hand and left.

lotus pond ...
all that remains
of  frog song

Thursday, April 25, 2013

The Road Less Traveled, A Tanka Prose

In 1693, parting from his favorite disciple Kyoroku, Basho said, “Didn't the retired Emperor Go-Toba say of Saigyo's poetry that it contained truth tinged with sorrow? Take strength from his words and follow unswervingly the narrow thread of the Way of poetry.”

a sliver of moon...
I cling to the thin line
of labor
to capture loneliness
in love poetry

NeverEnding Story, April 5, 2013

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Read It Slowly, Repeatedly, and Communally

In less than six months, Frogpond published two articles1 relating to "déjà-ku"2 experiences that six prominent poets shared (see the poem texts below).3 In his article titled "Bull Kelp," Christopher Herold emphasized that "there are myriad instances of poets tapping into the same sources of inspiration. Resulting poems may be nearly identical… [It's] simply poets attuning themselves to what's going on around them."4 In his article titled "Two and Two," John Stevenson gave similar emphasis that "this phenomenon is all about paired experience and similar expressions… I would say that we independently hit upon a means of expressing a perception that many others must have shared."5 Editor George Swede added a note to the article to share his own déjà-ku experience. In his reply to Swede's enquiry regarding the similarity between their haiku, Jim Kacian stressed that "[my haiku] was taken from life… given the same input and some similar ideas about form, it's not terribly surprising that we might arrive at much the same poem."6

Although recognizing that there are differences between their haiku, both poets give little space in the articles to technical analysis of their poems. As he mentioned in the article, Stevenson at first wanted to withdraw his poem from publication. It's because "it's quite clear that [her haiku] was both written and published before mine and the natural thing to do would be to withdraw mine."7 Later, he felt relieved when Sandra Mooney-Ellerbeck said she didn't want him to withdraw his haiku.8 The Heron's Nest published his poem. However, we all know that it's more usual for the editor to withdraw the later poem due to lack of "originality or freshness." Most importantly, if the poet who wrote the later similar poem offers no sufficient reasons to prove that he wrote it by himself, he will run the risk of being criticized for using someone else's idea or imagery.

In her note to Herold, Connie Donleycott stated that "I had no way of knowing about the other poem, but, because the other poet's was published, I felt mine would come across as a copy."9 Her fear of unknowingly writing similar haiku is not unusual–it's a common fear among haiku poets. Over the past year, I've had several lengthy discussions on déjà-ku with other poets. Throughout those discussions, the recurring words or phrases were "not the first," "similar or same," "not original or fresh," and "has been done." I was surprised by most of my fellow poets who considered the Western concept of originality timeless and universal, and who showed little interest in understanding the Japanese concept of originality or newness and its use of honkadori or allusion while at the same time praising the haiku, most of which are highly allusive, written by Japanese haiku masters.10

Of those similar haiku mentioned above, Stevenson's is most "problematic." His first two lines are identical to Mooney-Ellerbeck's except with "…" at the end of line two. As he stressed in the article, "the nearly exact wording of our first two lines is, indeed, striking."11 But, the most important thing about these two haiku is the differences, tonal and thematic, marked by their distinctly juxtaposed images. Reflecting upon the same phenomenon ("more darkness/ more stars"), Stevenson added "autumn begins" as the concluding line to signify a process of the decaying of life, which is initiated by Mother Nature. What he did with his haiku is not merely to add a seasonal reference, but to show the destructive force of nature; more importantly, in the connotative contexts of the opening image and of the compositional occasion,12 this seasonal reference could be read to prefigure a tragic loss of life. Therefore, we as readers are fortunate to have an opportunity to read this beautifully-crafted and heartfelt poem, which is thematically and tonally different from its predecessor poem. Both poets use the same opening image, but if their haiku are read slowly and repeatedly, these differences will emerge.

The only and most important problem I have with these two articles and those discussions relating to déjà-ku is the unexamined concept of originality. Historically speaking, since the post-Enlightenment, the passion for uniqueness and originality has become the main criteria for art works. Poetry viewed as an "original expression of individual creativity is a recurring definition shared by many Romantic poets."13 Individual imagination and creativity has been theorized to represent a high value in literary criticism. This view is well-explored in Forest Pyle's influential book, The Ideology of Imagination: Subject and Society in the Discourse of Romanticism. Today, high poetic value placed upon originality remains ingrained in the Western literary culture. This fear of unknowingly writing similar haiku or the reluctance or disuse of allusion proves that Thomas Mallon's remark still holds true: the poets live under the "fearful legacy of the Romantics."14 Could those poets or editors who are constantly worried about "not being original or fresh" imagine that a poet deliberately using a direct quote as the first two lines of his haiku can achieve a great poem?

The following haiku is written by Katoh Shuuson (or Kato Shuson; 1905-1993), haiku poet and leader of the humanist school that seeks the truths of human existence through the poetic means of haiku, and who is "known for his scholarly and poetic appreciations of the great classic haijin, notably Matsuo Basho:"15

Japanese Original:

hakutai-no kakaku shingari-ni neko-no ko-mo


English Translation:

the days and months travelers
through a hundred generations
kitten tags along

Trans. by Dhugal J. Lindsay16

On a denotative level, this haiku speaks of two types of movement: one is temporal, and the other spatial; one is portrayed in a metaphorical language, and the other a literal one. The juxtaposition of these two parts of the poem stirs the reader's reflection on temporal awareness and consciousness, and it reminds me of one of the thematic foci described in "Book XI" of Confessions, in which St. Augustine explores the relationship between God's timelessness and his creation's experience of time. Most importantly, the image juxtaposed with the first two lines – the Existentialist statement on time as the traveler – is an innocent, uninvited, kitten, offsetting the unbearable heaviness of its preceding lines and thus creating some sort of a comic-tragic effect. It further stirs up the reader's emotions about and reflection on the absence of human beings in the poem. This haiku is brilliantly written and its suggestive power relies on the thematic gap between the two parts of the poem. It can definitely stand on its own without the reader's extra/inter-textual knowledge.

On a connotative level, the first two lines of this haiku are a direct quote from the opening line of the first haibun in Basho's travelogue, The Narrow Road to the Interior, one that is followed by "and the years that come and go are also travelers."17 Read in the context of Basho's travelogue, the opening haibun is the most important section of the work that determines the theme, tone, movement, and goals.18 It also describes multiple departures – "the hermit-poet's philosophical departure from a particular way of life and his actual physical departure from the hermitage, a symbol of life he abandons."19

The haibun was written in the first person perspective, and Basho stressed that "[many] in the past also died while traveling. In which year it was I do not recall, but I, too, began to be lured by the wind like a fragmentary cloud and have since been unable to resist wanderlust, roaming out to the seashores."20 According to Hiroaki Sato, "many in the past" might refer to Japanese poets, such as Saigyo and Sogi, and Chinese poets, such as, Li Po and Tu Fu, who all died while traveling.21 More importantly, Basho's opening lines allude to a popular piece, the preface to "Holding a Banquet in the Peach and Pear Garden on a Spring Night," written by Chinese poet Li Po.22 They are almost a literal translation into Japanese of Li Po's lines, except that " one Chinese term, using the compound tsukihi (month and days, moon and sun, or time) [is] in place of [Li Po's] koin (day and night, light and darkness, or time)."23 Unlike his contemporaries, such as Ihara Saikaku and Oyodo Michikaze, both of whom used a direct quote,24 Basho changed koin to tsukihi. It's because tsukihi brings to the Japanese reader's mind "more concrete and vivid images of the moon and sun with all the connotations the two carry in the Japanese poetic tradition."25 In the haibun, Basho established a poetic-interpersonal relationship with the ancients, one that reveals his sense of rootedness.

Shuuson, unlike his poetic forefather Basho, used a direct quote written in modern Japanese from Basho's famous haibun, and subtly showed the tonal difference between his quoted line and Basho's original.26 And he wrote his haiku from a perspective of an objective observer. There is no human figure in the haiku. What we see is just a cute kitten unaware of the passage of time, tagging along the procession of the days and months as travelers. The psycho-philosophical impact of the inner tension and thematic gap is brought about by the sharp contrast between the two parts of the poem.

For attentive Japanese readers, Shuuson's haiku is fresh and original in terms of his skillful use of a haikai twist through honkadori that parodies the existential themes of death and of the transience of life explored in Basho's work. When they encounter his poem, they read it slowly, repeatedly and communally. Unlike modern English-language haiku, "which [are] often monologic, a single voice describing or responding to a scene or experience,"27 the haiku Shuuson wrote was mainly situated in a communal setting and dialogic responses to earlier poems by other poets. "The brevity of the [haiku] is in fact possible because each poem is implicitly part of a massive, communally shared poem."28 More importantly, it was until the post-Enlightenment that this non-individualist/communal concept of poetry began to be less known to the poets who were brought up in the Western literary culture.29 In his influential book, titled The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry, Harold Bloom particularly mentions Shelley's speculations that: "poets of all ages contributed to one Great Poem perpetually in progress."30 Like Japanese poets, Shelley viewed poetry as a collective enterprise.

Veteran haiku poet and editor Cor van den Heuvel gives an incisive explanation about these perspective differences between Japanese poets and "Western-minded" poets who are worried about not being original or fresh: "If a haiku is a good one, it doesn't matter if the subject has been used before. The writing of variations on certain subjects in haiku, sometimes using the same or similar phrases (or even changing a few words of a previous haiku), is one of the most interesting challenges the genre offers a poet and can result in refreshingly different ways of 'seeing anew' for the reader. This is an aspect of traditional Japanese haiku which is hard for many Westerners, with their ideas of uniqueness and Romantic individualism, to accept. But some of the most original voices in haiku do not hesitate to dare to seem derivative if they see a way of reworking an 'old' image."31

The passage quoted above is used as the concluding paragraph of Michael Dylan Welch's essay that appeared in Simply Haiku wherein he introduced his self-coined phrase, déjà-ku. However, the challenge he poses in the end of the essay has not yet been taken up. Isn't it time for us as readers and writers of Japanese haiku to broaden our poetic horizons and consider deepening our poetry through re-examining our perception of originality? In closing, consider the remark by professor Haruo Shirane about Basho's view of haiku writing:

"[The] poet had to work along both axes: to work only in the present would result in poetry that was fleeting; to work just in the past, on the other hand, would be to fall out of touch with the fundamental nature of haikai, which was rooted in the everyday world." 32

Notes:

1 Christopher Herold, "Bull Kelp," Frogpond, 33:3, (Fall 2010), pp. 71-3; John Stevenson, "Two and Two," Frogpond, 34:2, (Spring/Summer 2011), pp. 93-5.

2 Déjà-ku was self-coined by Michael Dylan Welch to describe the haiku that "bear some relationship to other poems. These relationships are good in some cases, such as parody, homage, and allusion, and not good in other cases, such as plagiarism, cryptomnesia (remembering someone else's poem without realizing that one is remembering rather than creating it), and simply being too similar or insufficiently fresh or original." See Michael Dylan Welch, "An Introduction to Déjà-ku," Simply Haiku, Vol. 2, No.4 (July/August, 2004), http://bit.ly/ez70RO

3 There are two poets included in Editor's Note. The haiku in the articles are as follows;

sickle moon
a boy whips the sea
with bull kelp

~ Christopher Herold

wind in my hair
a boy tames the sea
with bull kelp

~ Connie Donleycott

more darkness
more stars
moving on

~ Sandra Mooney-Ellerbeck

more darkness
more stars ...
autumn begins

~ John Stevenson

spring breeze
the dog runs
in its sleep

~ Jim Kacian

warm spring breeze
the old hound runs
in his sleep

~ George Swede


4 See Herold, p. 73.

5 See Stevenson, p. 93-4.

6 Ibid., p. 95.

7 Ibid., p. 94.

8 Ibid.

9 See Herold, p. 73.

10 For further information on these issues, see Chen-ou Liu, "The Ripples from a Splash: A Generic Analysis of Basho's Frog Haiku" and "Waking from Zhuangzi's Butterfly Dream – Plagiarism or Honkadori," Ripples from a Splash: A Collection of Haiku Essays with Award-Winning Haiku, Ajax, Ontario: A Room of My Own Press, April 2011, pp. 51-73.

11 See Stevenson, p. 94.

12 Ibid.

13 Jessica Millen, "Romantic Creativity and the Ideal of Originality: A Contextual Analysis," Cross-sections: The Bruce Hall Academic Journal, Vol. VI, 2010, p. 91.

14 Thomas Mallon, Stolen Words: Forays into the Origins and Ravages of Plagiarism, New York: Ticknor & Fields, 1989.

15 James Kirkup, "Obituary: Shuson Kato," The Independent, 10 July 1993, http://ind.pn/nZPQFo

16 Kaneko Tohta, "Selected Haiku," the Haiku International Association website, http://bit.ly/qkYXrK

17 Hiroaki Sato, trans., Basho's Narrow Road: Spring & Autumn Passages: Two Works by Basho Matsuo, Berkeley, Calif.: Stone Bridge Press, 1996, p. 41

18 Eleanor Kerkham, "And Us Too Enclosed in Mori Atsushi's "Ware Mo Mata, Oku no Hosomichi"Matsuo Basho's Poetic Spaces: Exploring Haikai Intersections, Eleanor Kerkham, ed., New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006, p. 188.

19 Ibid.

20 See Sato, p. 41.

21 Ibid., p. 40.

22 Ibid.

23 See Kerkham, p. 189.

24 Ibid., p. 197.

25 Ibid., p. 189.

26 See Tohta.

27 Haruo Shirane, Traces of Dreams: Landscape, Cultural Memory, and the Poetry of Basho, Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1998, p. 15.

28 Ibid., p. 27.

29 Forest Pyle, The Ideology of Imagination: Subject and Society in the Discourse of Romanticism, Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1995.

30 Harold Bloom, The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry, Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1973, p. 19.

31 Cor van den Heuvel, ed., The Haiku Anthology: Haiku and Senryu in English, New York: W.W. Norton, 1999, p. ix-x. In fact, "Michel Foucault (1977, 115) has argued that the entire concept of artist or author as an original instigator of meaning is only a privileged moment of individualization in the history of art." See Linda Hutcheon, A Theory of Parody: The Teachings of Twentieth-Century Art Forms, Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1985. p. 4.

32 Haruo Shirane, "Beyond the Haiku Moment: Basho, Buson and Modern Haiku Myths", Modern Haiku, XXXI:1 (Winter/Spring 2000), accessed at http://bit.ly/CckuN.

A Hundred Gourds, 1:1, December 2011

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Snow Haiku

blizzard…
reciting Basho in a world
of one color


2011 Haiku Canada Anthology

Thursday, December 30, 2010

The Ripples from a Splash: A Haiku Sequence

Based on Chinese Poetics

moonlit pond…
are frogs asleep
tonight?

flower moon --
its eyes on the flowing clouds
a frog

this frog
crouches on a lotus leaf --
reciting Basho

the frog
shatters the moon’s face...
alone by the pond


Magnapoets, #7

The Ripples from a Splash: A Generic Analysis of Basho’s Frog Haiku

I once met an avid reader of haiku who could recite at least ten different English versions of Basho's frog haiku, but when I asked him, “what makes Basho's haiku so great that is worthy of more than a hundred different translations published in book form?” 1 How could there be significant meaning in such a simple poem which simply describes a frog jumping into an old pond? Or if I replace “frog” with any other amphibian creature or any creature that can dive into a pond, is it still considered to be great? ” I received no good answers from him at the time, but a few days later I received a lengthy email, in which he gave me a list of books or websites on Basho’s frog haiku. One of them was an often-quoted website page titled Matsuo Basho: Frog Haiku: Thirty-one Translations and One Commentary. 2 The commentary was taken from Robert Aitken’s A Zen Wave: Basho's Haiku and Zen, a collection of essays on Basho’s haiku. I wasn’t satisfied with any of the answers from his sources because of their individualistic, de-contextualized, and Buddhist-influenced interpretations of Basho’s haiku. More importantly, they didn’t help answer my questions. I pondered, “What would Basho say if he were alive today and could read these English language reviews of his frog haiku done by writers or lovers of haiku?”

After an extensive reading of the related materials, I believe that Basho would say, “It might be better to read my poem (a text) in context.” Unlike modern haiku, “which [are] often monologic, a single voice describing or responding to a scene or experience,” 3 the haiku Basho wrote were mainly situated in a communal setting and dialogic, responses to the previous verses in haikai sequences or to earlier poems by other poets. “The brevity of the [haiku] is in fact possible because each poem is implicitly part of a massive, communally shared poem.” 4 And as a genre firmly rooted in the centuries-old tradition, its unabated rigor and cultural richness lie in the haiku poet’s keen awareness of utilizing the poetic legacy and cultural associations. 5 In what follows, I’ll give a generic analysis 6 of Basho’s haiku, hoping that this contextualized reading of his poem would broaden our understanding of some enriching characteristics of Japanese haiku.

The old pond;
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbFuru ike ya
A frog jumps in —
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbkawazu tobikomu
The sound of the water. 7
bbbbbbbbmizu no oto

First of all, at the denotative level, Basho’s haiku simply says that there is an old pond, that a frog jumps into it, and that the sound of water is heard. Semantically speaking, as is typical of haiku, his poem is made up of two parts through the use of the cutting word, “ya:” “the old pond” and “a frog jumps in --/ the sound of the water.” The tension is thus created by the collocation of these two parts: the sharp contrast between the static image of an old pond, evocative of stillness and loneliness, and the lively image of an energetic animal that jumps into the pond and makes the water sound. 8 This tension leaves something for readers to ponder, furnishing both meaning and imagery for themselves.

Based on linguistic knowledge of the target language and on literary literacy, a textual analysis of this sort, generally speaking, would give readers a satisfactory pleasure in understanding this poem, but it couldn’t answer the questions I posed above. It’s because there are a lot of poets who write good haiku that leave something unsaid for readers to ponder, and because I don’t see any differences that would be made if Basho changed “frog” to any other amphibian creature or any creature that can dive into a pond.

Secondly, at the connotative level, Basho added an extra layer of meaning or surprise by using a kigo, kawazu (frog), in an unusual way. With its circle of associations, kawazu provided a special pipeline to the reader, increasing the complexity and capacity of the poem. 9 For example, there are some 140 poems classified under the section titled “ponds” in
Fubokusho (Selected Poems from the Land of the Rising Sun), a standard waka anthology, none of them depicts a frog. 10 More importantly, read in the context of classical Japanese poetry and the haiku poetics, kawazu is a seasonal word for spring used in poems since ancient times, and had always referred to its singing and calling out to a lover. The preface to the first imperial anthology titled Kokinshu describes “listening to the warbler singing among the blossoms and the song of the frog dwelling in the water” 11 as in the following poem:

on the upper rapids
a frog calls for his love.
Is it because,
his sleeves chilled by the evening,
he wants to share his pillow? 12

Instead of giving “the song of the frog,” Basho focused on the water sound of a diving frog. He was the first poet ever to defy the poetic essence (honi) of the frog by emphasizing the “splash” that it makes, working against what one would expect from reading classical waka or renga. 13 In juxtaposing these two seemingly incongruous worlds and languages of ga (elegance) and zoku (vulgarity), Basho humorously inverted and recast established cultural associations and conventions of the frog. In doing so, he created a comical effect: a “parody of classical poetry that refers to the frog as expressive of romantic longing.” 14

A contextualized reading of his poem, like the one I present here, would reveal the greatness of his poem: the psychological impact of the inner tension brought about by the sharp contrast between two parts of the poem and the transformative power of the newness created by parodying established practices and cultural associations. For Basho, his notion of the new “lay not so much in the departure from or rejection of the perceived tradition as in the reworking of established practices and conventions, in creating new counterpoints to the past.” 15. Throughout his life, instead of writing haiku with new kigo, Basho devoted himself to “seeking new poetic associations in traditional topics.” 16

Basho’s use of parodic allusion that brought to the reader’s mind earlier texts and reworked an old theme in a new setting has enriched Japanese haiku. His frog haiku, which has been often read one-dimensionally by most of Western haiku poets, is two-axis: on the scenic level, the horizontal axis, the poem objectively describes a natural scene, possessing no emotion, but “the sound of water rising from an old pond implies a larger meditative, lonely silence;” 17 on the vertical axis, it is a parodically allusive variation, a haikai twist on the poetic associations of the frog depicted in classical Japanese poetry. As Haruo Shirane demonstrates in his book titled
Traces of Dreams, Basho believed that “the poet had to work along both axes: to work only in the present would result in poetry that was fleeting; to work just in the past, on the other hand, would be to fall out of touch with the fundamental nature of haikai, which was rooted in the everyday world.” 18

Decades later after Basho’s death, Yosa Buson, who led the Basho Revival movement in the eighteenth century, wrote a response haiku:

the old pond's
frog is growing elderly
fallen leaves 19

Buson’s poem, a parody of Basho’s, could be read as a commentary on the pitiful situations of the haiku community of his day, adding its voice to the centuries-old dialogue between Japanese poets and their predecessors. This allusive characteristic of Japanese haiku has still been absent in most of English language haiku that put great emphasis on the “haiku moment”20, which means “here and now.”Maybe it’s time for us to learn from Basho while greatly praising his haiku.

After all has been said, I would like to conclude my article with a tribute poem to converse with and show my respect to masters and their works.
The Ripples from a Splash: A Haiku Sequence Based on Chinese Poetics 21

moonlit pond…
are frogs asleep
tonight?

flower moon --
its eyes on the flowing clouds
a frog

this frog
crouches on a lotus leaf --
reciting Basho

the frog
shatters the moon’s face...
alone by the pond


Notes:

1 See Hiroaki Sato, One hundred Frogs: From Renga to Haiku to English, New York : Weatherhill, 1983. 1st ed. In the book, he presents a collection of over one hundred translations and variations of Basho’s frog haiku.

2 The Bureau of Public Secrets, “Matsuo Basho: Frog Haiku (Thirty-one Translations and One Commentary),” http://www.bopsecrets.org/gateway/passages/basho-frog.htm

3 Haruo Shirane, Traces of Dreams: Landscape, Cultural Memory, and the Poetry of Basho, Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1998, p. 15.
4 Ibid., p. 27.

5 Koji Kawamoto, “The Use and Disuse of Tradition in Basho’s Haiku and Imagist Poetry,” Poetics Today, Vol. 20, No. 4 (Winter, 1999), p. 709.

6 Daniel Chandler, “Working within Genres,” “Advantages of Generic Analysis,” “ D.I.Y. Generic Analysis,” in An Introduction to Genre Theory, http://www.aber.ac.uk/media/Documents/intgenre/intgenre.html

7 See the Bureau of Public Secrets.

8 Cheryl A. Crowley, Haikai Poet Yosa Buson and the Basho Revival, Boston: Brill, c2007, p. 57.
9 Haruo Shirane, “Matsuo Basho’s Oku no hosomichi and the Anxiety of Influence,” in Currents in Japanese Culture: Translations and Transformations, ed., Amy Vladeck Heinrich, New York: Columbia University Press, 1997, p. 182.

10 Makoto Ueda, compi. and trans., Basho and His Interpreters: Selected Hokku with Commentary, Stanford, Calif. : Stanford University Press, 1991, p. 142.

11 Koji Kawamoto, The Poetics of Japanese Verse: Imagery, Structure, Meter, trans., Stephen Collington, Kevin Collins, and Gustav Heldt, University of Tokyo Press, 2000, p. 76.

12 See Shirane, p. 14.

13 See Ueda, p. 142.

14 See Crowley, p. 57.

15 See Shirane, p.5.

16 See Shirane, Currents in Japanese Culture: Translations and Transformations, p. 182.

17 See Shirane, p. 77.

18 Haruo Shirane, “Beyond the Haiku Moment: Basho, Buson and Modern Haiku Myths”, Modern Haiku, XXXI:1 (winter-spring 2000), http://www.haikupoet.com/definitions/beyond_the_haiku_moment.html

19 See Crowley, p. 56.

20 See Shirane, Beyond the Haiku Moment.

21 According to classical Chinese poetics, a poem sequence is a group of poems by one poet or perhaps even by two or more poets intended to be read together in a specific order. The integrity of a poem sequence is dependent on this prescribed order of presentation. A poem sequence by a single author is sustained throughout by a single voice and point of view, and it shows consistency in style and purpose from one poem to the next. The defining characteristic of a poem sequence is that each poem must have its own value and integrity yet contribute to the artistic wholeness of the sequence while maintaining the logical progression of events.

Magnapoets, #7

Friday, September 17, 2010

June Frogs and I: A Gogyohka Sequence

for Matsuo Basho

Basho's frog
jumps in an old pond
no sound heard
yet it ripples
in the minds of poets

where there is
neither pond nor frog
I sit still to hear
the sound of a frog
jumping into the pond

one frog
after another
jumps
into the pond of my mind
lub dub, lub dub, lub dub

the frog of my mind
jumps
into the pond of the zeitgeist
splashless
as it swims

sitting
under the basho tree
by an old pond
frogs and I
sing to one another



Note:"Basho's original name was Matsuo Kinsaku but he changed it to 'Basho' - after he was presented with a wide leafed banana tree (or basho tree) by one of his disciples. Although the tree is rare in Japan and the climate too cold for it to bear fruit, Basho liked it because of its large, soft leaves. The basho tree appeared frequently in his work:

Squalls shake the Basho
tree - all
night my basin echoes rain."

-- An excerpt from the webpage titled Basho of Poets' Graves

July/August 2010 issue of Sketchbook

Friday, July 2, 2010

Make Haibun New through Chinese Poetic Past: Basho’s Transformation of Haikai Prose

Basho believed that the poet had to work along both axes. To work only in the present would result in poetry that was fleeting. To work just in the past, on the other hand, would be to fall out of touch with the fundamental nature of haikai, which was rooted in the everyday world.

- Haruo Shirane

In the narrow sense of the word, haikai, which gave birth to haiku, originally referred to the humorous poems found in the first imperially commissioned anthology of poetry. It was later used to describe popular comic linked verse (haikai no renga), distinguishing itself from the more refined, classical linked verse (renga). Broadly speaking, it is used to “describe genres deriving from haikai or reflecting haikai spirit, such as haiku, haibun, renku, and haikai kikobun, literary travel account”.1 During the second half of the 17th century, there were innovative movements within Japanese haikai circles, and they had transformed haikai from an entertaining pastime to a respected poetic form.2 Furthermore, haiku, originated from hokku which was the opening verse of a haikai sequence, has flowered for four centuries and established itself not only as an autonomous genre of Japanese short verse form, but as a globalized verse form in many languages. As the putative founder of haiku, Matsuo Basho made enormous contribution to the refinement, success, and popularization of Japanese haiku and its related genres.3


Summer, 2010 issue of Simply Haiku