Haiku in Context ~ #1,
Robin D. Gill [ bio ]
[ email ]
( I )
Pissing on the New Year
a wee start for this series
shôben
mo uka to wa narazu kesa-no-haru —Issa
(d.1827)
(urine even careless-as-for be/ought-not this-morning’s-spring=new-year’s-day)
even pissing
i must take care this
dawn of the year
Some say
a poem should explain itself. To me, this is nonsense when we are talking
about translated
haiku, or for that matter any poem that
comes
from a different place or time (the past is a foreign country) from that
we know
well. Being patently short, one might think a haiku would require less
explanation than longer poems, but the opposite is true: haiku leave so
much unsaid that
those who do not share the background of the author often need additional
information to fully appreciate them. As my knowledge and understanding
of old haiku grew, I became aware that I could easily grasp the meaning of
some poems even literate Japanese acquaintances (editors at the same publisher)
could not catch. For example, here is a poem by Shiki which I never fail
to chuckle at:
neko
no kao mo migaki-agetari tama-no-haru —Shiki (d.1902)
(cat’s face even/also polishing/ed-up gem-spring=new-year’s-day)
even the cat
polishes her face for
the new year
Or, “Even
the cat / has polished her face / for the new year.” Reading
this in English, the humor is not readily apparent for it depends
largely on the gem (tama) which modifies the Spring (haru).
Gem as an adjective means
something that is precious and beautiful. Used before Spring, to
all Japanese familiar with old poetry, it means the Spring is not just the
spring but the
New Year. However, most Japanese today have to be reminded of the
more common term for the New Year ara-tama no toshi, or “new/rough-gem-year,” before
they can grasp the meaning of tama no haru, or “gem-spring,” namely
New Year’s Day. (For the complex etymological arguments about
the meanings of ara see my Fifth Season, in progress). They
have not read
poems like,
aratama
ya kururi to mawaru kyô-no-haru —Teikei (pre1645)
(rough/uncut gem: around rotates today’s spring/ny’s day)
the new
year
starts spinning today:
a gem in the raw
– which is to say, the year as an uncut gem being tumbled. I presume the
idea is not the rotation of the earth, though it may have been known by some
in Japan at this time, but a pun on the practice of walking about proffering
New Year’s greetings:
it’s
new year’s
going ‘round and ‘round
like a raw gem
Or the next
ku, (horrendous, but a bit better in Japanese where sun and day are one and
the same hi) introducing the New Year
as a new
and presumably
shiny gem:
aratama
ya fukuro hodokete hi-no-hajime —Kiteki (pre1728)
(new/unpolished-gem! bag opening day’s/sun’s start)
our new
gem!
the sack is opened and
out pops the sun
Sack? Whose
sack? There may be an old Chinese creation story here, but it is more likely
the poet draws a parallel
with the strings
of coins
called toshidama,
or “year=gems=presents” presented to children
on this day, i.e., “New
gems=coins! / the sack is untied / the first sun=day.” A
pun would work in Japanese where the number of the
gem/s=coin/s need not be specified but
not in English. While I have whole chapter on these
presents (Issa alone has 28 toshidama ku!)
in The
Fifth Season, and think highly of Issa’s ku about
his cat sleeping on top of them, the best toshidama haiku
by far —indeed,
I doubt anyone will ever beat it – is by a child
(from the Kodomo Haiku Saijiki 1997):
otoshidama
poketto ni ire hashiridasu —Harigaya Naoki (fifth-grade)
([honorific+]year-gem=new-year’s-gift, pocket-in put, run-start/off)
The
New Year’s Present
putting it
into my pocket,
i burst out running!
Be that
as it may, a simple tama no haru without any ara (rough/new) is rare. But
such poems are out
there and,
considering what
animal rules the
Sinosphere
this year, let us see the following example:
tori
no umi-otoshikeri tama-no-haru —Shisei
(pre1779)
(cock/chicken/hen’s hatched-out[+emphatic] gem-spring=new-year)
The Year
of the Chicken
was it
hatched out
from under a hen?
this gem of a spring!
Unlike
Teitoku’s infamous Cow Slobber ku for the Year of the Ox which
I easily defend elsewhere (see my article
in the February 2005 issue of Lynx) this is difficult, for it is
barely a poem. It makes sense for the Year of
the Cock is also the Year of the Hen, as
no distinction is found in the name, and tama or “gem” also
means “ball” and
suggests “egg” (tamago),
but the link to observation is just too
weak. Only if we imagine the poet was not using tama-no-haru loosely
(as is usually the case) but was really impressed
by the beauty of New Year’s Day and,
thus, decided to explain it as the metaphysical
progeny of said Year Animal does the ku become
a poem (hence my punctuation). Returning
to Shiki’s
cat:
Tama’s New Year
our gem, too
pretties up her face
spring-shine
Even
Japanese who fail to catch the seasonal significance of “gem-spring” (tama
no haru) – i.e., think it
literally about the spring rather than
the New
Year – usually catch Shiki’s
untranslatable pun on the tama: Tama is
a very common, virtually generic, name
for a cat (we only have
such names
for dogs, e.g., Spot, Poochie). Let
me try again:
Tama’s
New Year
even our cat
polishes her face: this gem
of a spring day!
Kyoshi
who is the father of modern haiku, or step-father, if Shiki,
who died young,
is considered
the father,
must have
immediately grasped all
the meanings
of tama, that is to say, realized
this was a New Year’s poem. Since
he fails to include the ku in his
anthology of Shiki (the Iwanami classic), we
must presume he was unaware of
why it was not only clever but good. Knowledge of haiku is not at issue.
Knowledge of cats is. Speaking as one who has
lived with cats for 75 years (I
sometimes lived with more than one cat, so the number
exceeds the years I have lived),
I will explain why I think the poem is good:
Shiki
has correctly noted feline behavior related to the season. Cats over the
holidays tend to do one of
two things. If worried about the change
in routine, they hunt and bring
back more presents than usual
to assuage their anxiety. If confident they are loved because
of the attention they get from
people off work or from rich special
food, they blissfully clean up, spending
more time on their faces than usual. Or,
they may react in both ways at once.
Shiki
has also correctly depicted the form of a cat. Tama has
the meaning of a ball, and a cat’s head=face is pretty round.
Shiki has accurately portrayed the action of polishing. Just plain licking
can be metaphored as “polishing;” but
the way a cat licks the back
of her paws and reaches back
to burnish her forehead or
crown is virtually the thing itself!
And, finally,
this is pure speculation, but it seems
to me that Shiki,
whether he knew
it or
not, had
his metaphysics
right,
too. A cat
does not clean itself
in order to be loved. It
cleans itself because it
is loved.
(Some day, I
will publish my
essay into
felinity,
Hanchan’s Dream,
where this sort of thing
is detailed, but for now,
please take my word for
it). New Year’s
Day did not enchant Japanese
because it was magical.
It was magical because
Japanese
were enchanted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
aozora
ni kizu hitotsu nashi tama-no-haru —Issa (d.1827)
(blue-sky-in
wound/flaw one-not gem/beautiful/precious-spring=new-year)
this
new year
in the blue sky
not a single flaw:
spring’s a perfect gem
Issa
wrote a number of haiku about making (with smoke) or breaking (with smoke)
the sky of New Year’s Day (see translations at David G. Lanoue’s
Issa website) but only with this last ku on the subject – written
the year after his careful pissing poem – does he finally make
explicit the sky-as-gem metaphor only hinted at in his earlier poems.
It is a version or an extension of the New-Year-as-gem idea and may also
reflect Issa’s appreciation for the potential we, as children,
are originally presented with at birth and with each new year. Again:
My
New Year
spring dawns
one must take care
even pissing
So,
could we say that Issa’s pissing ku reflects his awareness
of the sacred perfection of the New Year and his concern lest he pollute
it? Another, better known pissing ku by Issa defends the heavenly
light that symbolized Buddhist Law: “Captain, let none make water!
The moon rides the waves” (sendô yo shôben muyô nami
no tsuki). Or, was Issa the countryman a bit on the superstitious
side and read the future of the year into every little thing that happened?
micturomancy
i even take care
with how i make water
on the first day
Maybe, I think too much. The ku may only mean that
on this day when everyone got up – or was supposed to get up – early,
he was more liable to bump into someone when he went out to piss. He did,
after all, write this ku the following year:
muku-oki no shôben nagara gyokei kana —Issa
(d.1827)
(facing-up[just after waking]’s urinating-while [ny]greeting/felicitations/formalities/)
shinano new year’s
half-asleep
we exchange formalities
while pissing
I was
confident about adding the “we” because Issa has another
haiku: “on both sides/greetings exchanged/while pissing” (ryohô nishôben
shinagara gyokei kana). This is realism, but, properly read, cheerful
enough: pissing outside is refreshing, a far better way to start the
day/year than staring at a toilet in a little room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We
have seen several of the minor ideas informing “pissing with care,” but
I have not yet gotten to the most important one. This ku written
the same day as the careful pissing one brings us closer:
chiru
yuki mo gyôgi tadashi ya kesa-no-haru —Issa
(d.1827)
(falling/scattering snow-even/also behavior correct!/: this-morning’s-spring)
new
year’s day
even the snow comes down
in a proper way
New
Year’s Day, especially the morning, was a special time deserving
formal behavior. The idea of snow behaving is laughable, pretty bad,
but not so bad if you know three things:
1)
How much Issa hated, or claimed to hate the snow (which he even called “bad
stuff” in one essay), as a man who was born in the country and
had to live in it and, as a stepchild who was treated so coldly that
he felt cold for life (his analysis, not mine!). So Issa’s “even
the snow” is not so inane as it sounds: it expresses genuine emotion.
2) Issa was old when
he wrote the careful piss and the proper snow ku. While the
elderly had mixed feelings about the New Year – a) How lucky
to still be here! b) Must I carry yet another year (I will explain
later)? c) How shameful (as a Buddhist or a warrior) to have held on
so long! – on the whole, they loved this ageless time before
time. Before his famous ku describing his own New Year as “about
average” (which was a celebration, for he was late to gain a
(part of a) house and marry) the New Year was hell for him, but now
that he had experienced a modicum of living (what Usanians call “getting
a life”), he came to appreciate it. A well-known haiku by Ryôto
(d. 1717) depicts an old man’s New Year as “that is good! “this
is good!” (sore mo ô kore mo ô). Issa was
not that content, but he was in a positive frame of mind.
3)
Issa had just turned 61. Having just finished six 12 year cycles, he
was, by convention, starting all over. Blyth, explaining Issa’s
more famous New Year’s poem of that year (“folly/stupidity
upon folly/stupidity returns” haru tatsu ya gu no ue ni mata
gu ni kaeru), put it beautifully: “The wheel has turned full
circle, the original folly of childhood now being replaced by the enriched
folly of the aged.” (Haiku vol.2 Spring 1950).
In
other words, Issa had a carte blanche to write these childish poems.
And, by childish, as you might guess by now, I do not mean to put them
down.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onna ni mo kotoba shikaku ni gyokei kana —Sensan
(pre 1751)
(women-to/with-even words rectangular/stiff/formally [new year’s] greetings ‘tis)
even
women
formally addressed
felicitations
In
the 20th Century, women in Japan were turned into the guardians of traditional
culture, while men sold their souls to pragmatism in order to compete
with the West; but men, with their Chinese learning, were once the more
formalistic sex in Japan because formality was needed to speak up to
their superiors. As men were legally and culturally superior to women,
as a rule, they spoke down to them using rough, informal language, except,
as this poem indicates on formal occasions such as the New Year’s
felicitation, when they deigned to address them with “rectangular
words.” While one Japanese friend believes only the above reading
is possible, I cannot help wondering if the first part of the poem (onna
ni mo) could not be short-hand for onna no naka ni mo,
or “among women,” in which case we would have:
even
women
using stiff words
felicitations
For
women were also noted for speaking gently to one another. But, regardless
of the vector of this ku, the point does not change. On this
day, everyone participated in the rebirth of the year. Harold
Stewart, explaining a haiku by Ontei,
“The
clouds and waters now divide. The sun
Fans out its beams. The New Year has begun.”
– puts
it thus: “Every New Year’s Day is not only the first day
of the annual cycle, but a re-enactment in time of the First Day of Creation in
principio, that is to say in principle, outside of time and before
time begins, and not merely “in the beginning.” (A Chime
of Windbells, 1969). I would put it like this: Life was purely formal,
purely ritual, all mind or no mind, depending how pure being was defined
(This sounds abstract, but I have gathered and translated scores of haiku
on both sides of the all/no mind, or “all kokoro” vs. “no kokoro” idea
of proper attitude). This is not so much a Zen thing as a Japanist(?) sunao thing. Sunao,
a native Japanese word that is written with the characters for simple+straight
is an adjective best described as an attitude. People who detest it think
of sunao as “obedient” or “slavish,” the
neutral humor it as “honest” or “direct” and
those who like it think it synonymous with “being good,” “acting
naturally” or behaving like a native (?) Japanese. Without even
knowing the word, G.K. Chesterton has written a whole book in praise
of it (Heretics).
It,
the New Year, not sunao, is paradoxical, too: people are off
work and free of all care, but all is significant and one can not be
careless. Again, a modern child’s haiku (Ibid) says it
best:
hatsu-hi-no-de
mi ni ayamari no naki koto o —Hara Akiko
(first sun-up self-with mistakes-not thing [+obj.(implies wishing/desiring/trying)])
the first sunrise
i hope i don’t make
any booboos
Japanese
are not so formal today as in Issa’s time, but still we find this
poem by an seventh grade student from Kochi prefecture! I do not know
exactly what the girl worries about. Judging from the countless haiku
on the subject, the most common way to get off on the wrong foot for
children and adults in Issa’s day and today was/is sleeping in
and failing to observe the first sun-rise. But is Akiko just concerned
with sleeping in or otherwise flubbing up some observance and being criticized?
Or, could she, like Issa making water, be thinking of more than herself?
first prayer
the new year’s
sun:
may neither it nor i
screw up!
I remember
reading in a small picture book edited by Robert Coles (whose large books
on the moral and religious intelligence of the child in the words
of the children themselves are a must-read) of a Hopi girl, concerned
about the clouds being injured by airplanes.
world-watch
the first sunrise
i pray it goes off
without a hitch
But
where, in the broader sense of things, does a poem like this come from?
Before returning to Issa’s careful pissing poem for one
last time, I feel it high time to inform the reader of the larger context
that includes all of the angles, precious, auspicious,
and formal mentioned. It is the significance of the New Year
itself. Japanese has dozens if not scores of synonyms for the New Year—if
you have been attentive to the direct rendering, you may have noticed
a few already—but even if all were translated it would still fail
to convey the importance of the Japanese New Year. Harold Stewart, as
we have seen, came close. So did Blyth in his paragraph-long introduction
to The New Year in Haiku Volume II Spring, where he explained
that “New Year’s Morning was felt to be the morning, not
only of this day, but the morning of the whole year,” that “the
rejuvenation of nature coincided with a fresh trust in humanity . . .” and
that even “familiar things had on this day a new significance.” He
also noted that this had something to do with the fact the New Year began
in February, when “the spirit of spring was already in the air” and
he began that paragraph with these words:
“The New Year
is a season by itself.”
What
Blyth failed to do is explain exactly what that first sentence meant.
By his beautifully poetic description he, like Stewart after him, lets
us know that the Japanese New Year is a sort of magical dreamtime, but
that does not explain why it “is a season.” I would bet that
someone has done so in English, but I have not read it, so I shall try.
The
New Year is a season because it was treated as one by being given a special
place as the other seasons were in traditional collections of poetry.
This is most clearly demonstrated by haiku almanacs, or saijiki,
for not only was the New Year separate from the other seasons, but large saijiki were
once published in five books, four of which were for the usual four seasons
and one of which was the New Year. How could this be?
First, the
New Year was an all-in-one holiday. It celebrated the crossing from
the old year to the New Year and the latter’s coming, as well
as the coming of Spring, for the New Year was also the first day of
Spring, likewise the birthday of the nation as Christians celebrate
the birth of Jesus on Christmas (more so than the 4th of July) and
the resurrection of the spirit of the everything as our Easter (when
some of us watch the sun rise) and finally everyone’s birthday
(as essayed by Lowell in The Soul of the East, 1888). Imagine
if you will, the power of a holiday combining so much!
Second,
Japan’s traditional calendar, like the original Judeo-Christian
calendar, combined the solar and lunar reality to create a natural correspondence
with the day and the night far more sophisticated and, I would argue,
beneficial to the psyche than the purely solar system used by the modern
West, which cannot abide approximation and case-by-case (year by year)
adjustment, or the purely lunar system used by Moslems whose identification
with the desert apparently led them to deny the seasons by subjugating
them entirely to the geometry of the night. With both dependable year-to-year
solar continuity and lunar synchronicity (the first night was always
dark, the third crescent, the fifteenth full), the Japanese were exceptionally
attentive to seasonal festivity.
Third, because
of the above, and because of Japan’s high degree of historical
continuity, the number of seasonal events and things belonging to the
New Year is large enough to fill a book. (I realize that high school
students in the USA filled a book with Christmas, for I helped get
the Foxfire Christmas Book translated into Japanese, but we
are talking about a tradition that is ten times richer). Each day of
the first couple weeks of the year features one or another celebration
and the things involved far out-number “our” New Year’s
Eve, Xmas tree, wreath and manger (and I would guess Hanukkah, too).
So
why did Blyth give the New Year only 20 pages, which is to say only
about 5% of what he gave each of the other seasons?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
hôrai ni jôfuku
to mosu nezumi kana —Kyoshi (1874-1959)
(h ôrai-in/on “Jôfuku” [it is] called mouse ‘tis)
and, who are you?
the mouse
on mt hôrai spoke
“i’m jôfuku!”
I believe
Blyth short-changed the New Year because too many of its themes are unfamiliar
to non-Japanese. Introducing New Year themes requires the translator
to invent words, carry Japanese ones into English and explain far more
than Blyth (or anyone else, for that matter) wanted to. For example,
to properly introduce Kyoshi’s humorous masterpiece about a mouse
peeping out from a Hôrai saying he was Jôfuku, one would
have to explain the significance of mice on the New Year (auspicious
for coming with plentiful harvests and having a day when their name is
taboo’ed etc.), the legend of the magical mountain island of youth
pronounced Hôrai and its significance and appearance as a New Year’s
decoration, and the legend of the Chinese regent Jôfuku (including
the Chinese pronunciation of his name) who left China with 500 beautiful
young people to find such a place and supposedly ended up in Japan where
he is claimed by a number of places today.
The
only way to introduce the New Year is to treat each of its major themes
at enough length to do them justice. I am now trying to do just that
in a book to be published some time this year called The Fifth Season.
The magical mountain just mentioned gets 30 solid pages with scores of
haiku. So does the idea of Spring as a gem, and so forth. Such length
allows the reader to get into the subject deeply enough to read the haiku somewhat
like a haiku poet would, that is as one ku in a large body
of ku on the same theme.
In
other words, it is not enough to simply explain a poem. For maximum enjoyment
of one poem, the reader needs to know many poems and size it up against
them. We all do this type of thing in whatever areas of the arts in which
we truly enjoy ourselves. But, unless we study and write about it we
are not conscious of it. This is, perhaps, more obvious with music or
with wine. For this reason, I am afraid that even this Haiku In Context belies
its title, for an article of this size cannot offer sufficient context
for the ideal appreciation of translated haiku. Time and space limits
make it haiku in some context. This is more than is generally provided,
but far from satisfactory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A New Year Starts
even pissing
is a matter for concern
this morning
When
I mentioned the scores of synonyms for the New Year, I meant synonyms
in the loosest sense of the word, for the kesa no haru (this-morning’s-spring)
used in Issa’s careful pissing ku and, say, tama
no haru (“gem-spring,” which Issa would not have used
in that poem for tama also suggests the male genitals and
would have vulgarized the poem despite it describing the fine weather
we imagine), ganjitsu (original-day) and shougatsu (correct/upright-month)
all have different nuances and tend to cover different aspects of the
New Year. Because Japanese poets, like our rhymsters but less obviously,
may chose words for the sound and/or length, the strict meanings of
the words are often overlooked. Englishing New Year’s haiku,
the choices are different. My biggest problem was the length of the
phrase “New Year’s morning.” While only three syllables,
two are much longer than Japanese syllabets* and give three solid beats.
This is too long for the first or last lines (generally 2-beat) where
it usually must go. So I tend to drop the “morning” for “dawn” or “day,” or
separate it from the New Year by resorting to a title as I did above.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But,
it is one thing to translate, or read freely and it is another to know
what you are doing. If one wishes to translate from the original, it
is necessary to recognize all the synonyms. When I first read Issa’s
careful pissing poem about ten years ago, I assumed kesa no haru meant
just what the words said: “this morning’s spring." Here
are a couple of my benighted (mis)translations:
spring
is here
on a day as clear as this
i pause
before i piss
I
see that not only did I not recognize the New Year, but I very cleverly
skirted the heavy word, morning.
early
spring
one hesitates
to take a piss
on a fine morning
like this
With
the “fine” before it, “morning” improves, doesn’t
it? But the first of the mistranslations is still better. It also brings
up an interesting fact known to all translators. Mistranslations
can be very instructive.
I
am not sure why Issa’s haiku is not found in the standard 2000 ku collection
(Iwanami: 1990). I am sure it is not because of the body function,
for the editor, Maruyama includes many of Issa’s poems about
his “big-business” and “small-business” as
Japanese call "number one" and "number two." It
might be because Maruyama did not care much for the rather sloppy haiku
of Issa’s last period, or it may be that he found the ku too
direct with respect to Issa’s feelings. Had Issa not written
that it didn’t do to be careless but, instead, written something
like this,
i
pause to think
before taking a piss
my first this year
--
perhaps Maruyama would have included it. But, my point is not to second
guess Professor Maruyama. It is only to point out that trying to make
sense of Issa’s poem without a full understanding of the vocabulary
helped me push the envelope. Ignorance has its benefits. Always try
a translation before you investigate and find out what a poem really
means. You can always correct yourself, but once you know what’s
what it is impossible to go back . . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There
is another aspect of Issa’s poem that deserves almost as much
space as what I have given to the New Year. Body functions in haiku.
One reason I had intended to begin writing about haiku with Issa – something
I changed after seeing all that David G. Lanoue was doing (it is clear
that Issa is taken care of) – was because I read a book of haiku
satire (by someone called Oldenburg, perhaps?) which was full of pee,
poo, farts and hics (drinking) high and low-ku by obviously faux poets,
and thought: how ridiculous, this man apparently does not know that
Issa already includes these things! Maruyama’s anthology of Issa
is 2-3% such and, reading Issa’s journals, I came to the conclusion
that this percentage held true for all of his 20,000 poems (you do
the math!). Indeed, I blush to admit this, but I have hundreds of (unpublished)
pages of
examples.
The
introduction of such elements into haiku is found already in the renga (link-verse)
of early haikai. It can be humorous when describing the mists as the
Goddess of Spring wetting her robe by pissing on her feet (a pun on
Spring standing which means coming and which means the New Year, too)
and gets really dirty (the type of stuff that will later be restricted
to senryû) with poets pretending they would drown in their lover’s
pee, or love compared to puss-filled pimples, etc.. But it is not personal.
Even Bashô, who some wrongly credit for introducing it to poetry,
stops at the pooping nightingale (it poops on mochi=sweet-rice-cake
which makes it a New Year’s theme) and the pissing (or, rather
a territorial dog’s dry-pissing = inu-no-kakebari) rain-cloud.
Bashô’s contemporary (student and rival) Kikaku is the
first major poet I know of who came close to personalizing (?) it,
with ku asking “Who is the jerk who pissed in the snow?” (If
we guess it is he, himself, it is personal) and noting that the Winter
was the start of the fart-contest (he-kurabe) season.
Issa
picked up on both of these poems and turned body function into clearly
personal (as opposed to third-person) haiku, but I am hesitant to give
him sole credit for developing this because one cannot tell who pioneered
what by the books published by scholars giving us only the poems they
select. To know the history of haiku one must read the full journals
of many poets. Issa’s journals are the only ones I have only
read because they were reprinted whole and I (a poor man) found a used
collection cheap enough to buy. Others do not come cheap. History,
on the whole, is a game for the rich or those with rich patrons. A
penniless outsider without support cannot even get on the field.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I
have been criticized for bringing money or rather my lack of it into
all of my writing. I apologize if it is disconcerting, but what else
can I say? It is true. The limits of my understanding and
the degree to which my work may be completed or must remain incomplete,
for the most part, depends upon my ability to buy access to resources
and the time to peruse them.
Speaking
of which, the subject next time will be the botan, the flower
most associated with prosperity, happiness and nobility. The peony.
Considering Issa’s poverty and the fact that once again I will
start the discussion with one of his poems, it will be titled The
Peony and the Peon. Because this was once a late Spring blossom
and later switched to summer, it is perfect for Simply Haiku’s
second issue of the year which will come out, God willing, in mid-May.
Drink
a fifth to the Fifth Season, pee carefully and have a happy first quarter
of the year!
keigu
~ robin d. gill
*Syllabet is a term of my coinage for the letters of the Japanese syllabary
and the uniformly short sound unit they create. It is important
to realize that haiku in Japanese are not 17 syllables long but
17 syllabets long.
I hope readers will use the term for it is more transparent than mora or onji,
and, therefore easier to remember.
p.s.
– Letters with questions, criticism or suggestions are welcome. Please
write well, for you might be quoted.
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