Utagawa Hiroshige
moon viewing
mother's small hand lifts
in farewell
Roberta Beary
W. J. Neatby
Nightingales near
the river.
No superfluous noise.
Vassilis Zambaras
Eishōsai Chōki
When I see the ocean,
Whenever I see it,
Oh, my mother!Issa
translated by R. H. Blyth
Ōshukubai
cherry blossoms scatter--
a nightingale sings
I cry
Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue
best,
Don
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6 comments:
I'd "kill" to be able to put
colors-on-the-page
(rice paper?)
as
Utagawa
so did!
and the images;
far beyond what mere
words (can) do w "moon" &
what is just behind screen.
I hear ya, Ed ...
Don,
Beatific post, how to pick a favourite among four unforgettable poems?
But this one knocked me off my feet and down to my wobbly knobbly old knees (it's been that kind of season here, vulnerable and exposed to everything, danger, fear... and, as here, extreme beauty):
Nightingales near
the river.
No superfluous noise.
TC, well, you had a hand in this. Usually with this particular Issa poem, I go with the Hass translation
Mother I never knew -
every time I see the ocean,
every time.
This didn't fit with the feel of Roberta's poem, so I went in search of a different translation and remembered your posting of this one awhile back, though in a markedly different context.
So, tip o' the hat to you, sir, and thanks for the kind words.
Don,
Whether or not the "real" (biographical) Issa ever actually knew his mother, the mother ocean in the poem, as Blyth has it, sounds like a "someone" the poet has indeed known... one almost wants to say forever.
Thanks, Tom ... to the heart of the matter, as always.
I feel, somehow, the more (good) translations I read of a particular poem, the closer I get to the poet. Of course, with classic haiku, it may be something else again.
Everyday, still learning to read ...
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