James W. Hackett (I.M.): 4 Haiku

Recently, I've been re-reading the introduction to Cor van den Heuvel's The Haiku Anthology (3rd ed.) and, when it comes to English language haiku poets, it essentially begins with James W. Hackett and Nick Virgilio. Of course, there were others earlier, but these are two major poets at the beginning of what van den Heuvel speculates may someday be called 'the golden age' of English language haiku.  

This sent me back to a collection of his work, The Way of Haiku: an Anthology of Haiku Poems, Japan Publications, 1969. I read it a few years back and, as is customary when I read poetry books, I have a slip of paper inside that serves the dual function of bookmark and place where I note down the page of poems that are, for me, highlights.

The book is over 250 pages long, 3 haiku to a page, and my note sheet has lots and lots of poems marked. Often I will put a special mark - an asterick or check - next to a page for poems that moved we especially. So, I looked at these first and, of all things, 
a particular image/theme appeared and so here are 3 of the especially highlighted poems:

 Photo by Nebojsa Mladjenovic

Now that I have freed

  the butterfly from the web

    I feel uneasy.

The design that spins 
  the spider, allows him no rest
    until its done.




A long line of web
  loose at both ends, riding free
    on the summer breeze

Photo by Chris Sorge

Early on, Hackett received the imprimatur of haiku guru R. H. Blyth, who, in Hackett, saw the very real possibility for haiku in English. You will note that all the haiku are in the strict 5/7/5 form, with beginning caps and punctuation, as was the prevailing approach of the day.

And none seem worse for that. I could talk a bit about what attracted Hackett to this imagery (and me, as reader, to those images/themes in his work), but perhaps it best to leave the air of mystery.

After all, it is life, isn't it?

One other observation is that the poems are all focused exclusively on nature. "Now that I have freed" is a rare instance of the intrusion of the poet (or any other human) in Hackett's work. The last poem below does not have that intrusion, but in it, I feel, you can sense very real human emotion and, so, not surprisingly, for those of you who know we and my own approach, it is one of my favorites:


Left by the tide
   within a shallowing pool:
        a frantic minnow

Photo by Brad Smith

some stay behind
in the green leaves...
low tide crows

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

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Five Classic Cormorant Haiku

Photo by Frédéric Lemaréchal

In book 3 of R. H. Blyth's classic 4-volume Haiku, there are a number of sections on particular subjects, one being cormorant fishing. Cormorant fishing is a method, as depicted above, in which the bird has a snare attached to the base of its throat. When the cormorant catches a fish, it is unable to swallow it and the fisherman extracts it from the bird's throat. The the process is then repeated, over and over again.

This method of fishing, hundreds and hundreds of years old, inspired many haiku. And, as would be expected, most are in empathy with the plight of the bird.

Here are 4 poems by classic masters, translated by Blyth:

Art by Katsukawa Shunsen

      Cormorants
and cormorant fishers, too,
      Parent and child.    

                    Issa

This is a signature Issa poem, focused as it is on the shared experience of bird and human: both are, potentially, parent and child. Issa, who considered himself an orphan from an early age, has compassion which knows no species line. Obviously, the plight of the cormorant is especially emotive for him.

Model from Vatican Museum

      Morning twilight;
In their basket, the cormorants
      Asleep, exhausted.    

                    Shiki

Shiki goes right to the heart of the matter, the birds' terrible plight: catch the fish, be unable to eat. Hence, the exhaustion - all effort, no reward. 

Statue, Eden Park, Cincinnati, OH

      The cormorant keeper
Grown old,
      Is not to be seen this year.  

                    Buson

Buson focuses on the elderly man he remembers seeing who is the keeper and trainer of cormorants. As with Issa's poem, we see the human, in important respects, shares the plight of the cormorant: life's ephemerality.

Frontispiece, Talks about Birds

       My soul
Dived in and out of the water
       With the cormorant    

                    Onitsura

Like Shiki, Onitsura identifies completely with the task of the cormorant and replicates what is a very real emotional experience for those who witness this type of fishing.

The one master missing is Bashō from this particular selection of Blyth translations. I found his translation of the follwoing a bit cumbersome, so here it is, translated by David Landis Barnhill instead:

Artwork by Keisai Eisen

so fascinating
        but then so sad:
               cormorant fishing boat  

          Bashō

Bashō  strikes a perfect balance of humanness - the fascination with this 'ingenious' method of fishing and, suddenly, the revelation of its implication, karmic and otherwise. The range of emotion from one mere moment to the next is, in itself, something of an analogy for the human experience.

One note - there are, and have been, different methods of cormorant 'fishing.' Another method does not involve a snare around the neck, but the bird (actually, a number are used at a time) is tethered to the boat, having been trained not to swallow.

----------------

Woodblock by Kunisada

the cormorants stare
at them hard...
cormorant fishermen

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

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John Martone: a sailing book

John Martone never ceases to amaze and possibly the primary reason for this is that he never ceases to surprise, and be surprised.

As happens whenever one of John's books arrives in the mail, I look forward very much to reading and learning from one of the master poets of the short-short form. When I saw the title of this one, a sailing book, I thought, oh, this will be good fun. 

Really, I had no idea.

(If I might digress a moment ... I can see, or maybe I should say hear, you smiling, you long-suffering reader of this blog ... Still, I should mention by way of a disclaimer that, though I don't have much by way of sea legs, I did live in a bungalow right on the eastern edge of our drifting continent for over ten years.

So, really, I should have had some idea.

Thanks for your patience - digression complete.)

The poetry that grabbed me particularly in a sailing book was, of course, the work that didn't go directly over my head, in this case the nautical stuff. It is enough, however, to have a hint of the nautical and, if you are a brief poem fan, this will be right up your tributary.

That's right, with just a hint of nautical experience (long walks on a nearly deserted beach, anyone?) I'll wager you'll still be truly knocked out.

Try these two:


hills around
the lake
slower waves


Right about now, I'm thinking you've got the idea. If you ever puzzled over the wave/particle theory conundrum, this is another angle to come at it from.

Then there's this (italics and font size not in error):


sailors' home
everywhere you look
buddha's image


R. H. Blyth, via Bashō, posited the idea of haiku as a Way to transcendence, for both reader and poet alike, a la The Way of Tea, The Way of the Samurai, and The Way of Flowers (Ikebana). The moment I read this poem I had a feeling, a rare surging feeling of truth, a substantive confirmation of poetry, of haiku, as a path, a way.

If you've ever been in a sailor's home, or even work shack ... well, yes. No image or icon necessary.

The poem that prompted me to ask John if I might discuss a sailing book, and post a couple of poems here on the Hut, was the following modern haibun (included as a photo because I couldn't replicate the layout here - please click to enlarge):

Click image to enlarge

"... Hubble clouds, a million pavilions of a hundred jewels — can you see ..." 

Oh, yes, yes ...

There is so much in this fine, precise collection by John that, really, I can't say enough so I will leave it here. 

The work, like many of John's books, is available for a modest price: in this case, $5. 

a sailing book is worth every cent, and much, much more. 

Art from the Internet Book Images

 

 
a wind-blown boat
a skylark
crossing paths

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku 

R. H. Blyth & Chora: Late Summer, Early Fall

Art by Egon Schiele

       The change of clothes;
The crow is black,
      The heron white. 

Chora,                                        trans. by R. H. Blyth

While slowly perusing (by slowly, I mean over the last year or so) the third volume of R. H. Blyth's Haiku (Summer-Autumn), I ran across this poem by Chora, under the chapter title "Human Affairs."  Blyth, of course, always gives one pause in his astute, penetrating, and, sometimes, decidedly off-kilter observations. Here is what he said about this poem:

"Human beings are a feeble tribe, always changing. The crow remains as it is, the heron also. This haiku is somewhat epigrammatic; it is of intellectual content, but its meaning is expressed with such directness, simplicity, and concreteness that we welcome it as a lower but interesting use of the haiku form."

In some ways, most obviously tone, this seems a casual observation but it is hardly that. It is Blyth's style, coupled with his mastery of the subject, which makes the tone seemingly casual. 

And what makes him so eminently readable. 

What is negative in his assessment of Chora's haiku is the "intellectual content," which is directly to the point when discussing traditional haiku. Though he consigns it to a lower circle, in this case it is a lower circle of heaven and not hell. 

Certainly, the pros out weigh the cons.

The poem, from a human standpoint, nicely represents, if intellectually, the transition of seasons and, if I can take a hint from the volume 3 subtitle, the transition which we now in the Northern hemisphere are experiencing: late summer to early fall. I'm not quite sure it should be characterized as epigrammatic, unless strictly limiting it to meaning and not execution. Still, there are so many reasons to love Blyth. 

His selection of this haiku, for instance.

Plus that chapter title: Human affairs.  

And, oh, yes, a feeble tribe, indeed.

---------------

Photo by YST

growing feeble--
breaking off blossoms
with twisted mouth

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

David Lanoue notes of this Issa haiku that it is "A reflection on the aging process. Issa contorts his face with the effort of snapping off a little branch of blossoms." 

How right he is and how poignant the image, and the observation.

best,

Don

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R. H. Blyth: Still Complaining - A Friday Idyll

Photo by Derpunk

Much of what is read in the commentary of R. H. Blyth's classic volumes on haiku might be considered as a kind of haibun, so close is he to the original, and so lyrical is his critical prose. Take this example, in which I've placed Issa's poem after the commentary which it originally preceded (to heighten the similarity to haibun) , from volume 3 of Haiku:

Issa is not grumbling at the grumbler. This verse has a prescript, "Man's desires are infinite, but his life is not." To want, to desire, is human, is thus divine, is part of our nature, is part of our Buddha nature. It is how we desire that decides whether we are a Buddha or an a ordinary man. It is not the grumbling, but how we grumble; it is the peevishness, querulousness, petulance that is 

An expense of spirit in a waste of shame.

This verse, written when Issa was fifty seven, is his considered criticism of human life. What distinguishes man from the lower animals is the very thing that degrades him below them.

This cool breeze
Through the summer room,—
But still complaining

     Issa
     tr. R. H. Blyth

------------

Now, there is much to grumble about Blyth's commentary; I feel I can hear it now, so perhaps it is really coming from me and not some imaginary critic. Is being human thus, therefore, being divine? Yet, to be wrongheaded is not to be wrong. Is not this the very lesson imparted in the action taken, the thoughts penned?

Just read some D.H. Lawrence, whom Blyth greatly admired. Both perfected the art of being right via the act of being wrong. 

Something the Bard knew all about, desire that is (tricked up a bit). And then there is that other master. 

Or group of masters, but we are somehow beyond desire now, and returning through that wrong-headed back door.

This, this is truly human nature, truly Buddha nature.

-----------------------

Issa wrote some fine poems about breezes, as above.  Here are three, translated by David G. Lanoue:

in the spring breeze
already casting shadows...
irises

the cool breeze
meandering
arrives

saying my apology
to the sacred tree...
a cool breeze 

Photo by Seemann

best,

Don   

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R. H. Blyth: Haiku's Big Picture

R. H Blyth Portrait from the British Haiku Society webpage

 

In the introduction to Haiku, Volume 3: Summer and Autumn, by R. H. Blyth, may be found the following:

"When we read these verses, we realize that haiku is a way of living. It offers itself to mankind, not as a substitute for Christianity or Buddhism, but as their fulfillment. It is "Love one another" applied to all things without exception."

This statement, quite simply, is the one that separates Blyth's detractors from his admirers. An article by Donna Farrell in 2004 addresses the Blyth approach (spiritual or Zen) versus the H. G. Henderson approach (imaginative or creative). The article is brief and to the point, and well worth a peek. I very much like her conclusion:

Perhaps the time has come for two umbrellas (whatever their size) rather than one.

There is, of course, a third approach, one which Ed Baker has espoused here, and in correspondence, on a number of occasions: he calls his haiku-like poems "shorties," and has done with it. 

Cheers, Ed! 

       My life,—
How much more of it remains?
      The night is brief. 

                     Shiki 

their colorful umbrellas
fluttering...
low tide

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

 

Umbrellas by Cardboard Antlers 

best,

Don   

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Silent Flowers II: More Blyth Translations

Title Kiku (artist unknown)

A little over two years ago, I did a post on a collection of R. H. Blyth haiku translations called Silent Flowers, edited and assembled by Dorothy Price for a small little Hallmark hardcover collection. Recently, my partner and I were headed to the woods for a few days and I always like to have a little volume of this sort on hand for both enjoyment and inspiration, so into the backpack it went.

Nothing like a trek through snowy woods, followed by a hot toddie of some sort, while a few of the classic haiku masters take an analogous trek through the byways of your brain. 

I found that many of the poems I'd highlighted in that past post appeared again on my little annotated sheet this go round. But there were some I missed last time, perhaps more subtle, certainly hitting me while I was in a different mood, so I thought I'd share a few more.

     The yellow chrysanthemums
Lose their color
     In the light of the hand-lantern. 

                 Buson 

The artist Buson dissects light itself, its gradations, its subtleties, its ultimate mysteries. There is a contrast here, too, between things man-made and things of nature. Might their even be a slight criticism of the former or is it just the artist as artist?

     A world of grief and pain:
Flowers bloom;
     Even then . . . . . 

               Issa

Issa, poet of sorrow and loss and humanity, once again gives us the big picture. This is reminiscent of his more well-known "the world of dew ... and yet" but with perhaps a slight bit of objectivity.

     They spoke no word.
The visitor, the host,
     And the white chrysanthemum.

                 Ryota

Ryota's poem made me think of Buson's "the scissors hesitate". Here the chrysanthemum is on equal par with the visitor and the host, as important an element in the conversation as the other two, no mean poetic feat, indeed.

     The moon in the water;
Broken and broken again,
     Still it is there. 

               Chora 

Chora's poem is simply transcendent; what it says of nature, and of life, "there are more things in heaven and earth," dear reader ... we need not complete the sentence, the revelation has done that for us. 

     The world
Is after all as the butterfly,
     However it may be. 

           Soin

This may be one of the finest haiku I've ever read. It pushes all the boundaries; of form, of philosophy, of insight. The metaphor that is not a metaphor, in a poetic form that defies all rationalization. 

This is stunning, in its literal as well as its figurative aspects. 

Silent Flowers is arranged around some rough themes - specific images and seasons. I'm going to wrap this post with the promise with still a third on this same book, hopefully with a lot less time between. Here is another butterfly poem Price selects to follow directly after Soin's:

    The butterfly having disappeared, 
my spirit
    came back to me. 

                 Wafu

How anyone could contemplate following Soin's poem with another, especially on the same subject, is almost ludicrous except Wafu's haiku equals it, if on a different level: the personal/universal rather than the universal/personal. To describe the essence of an experience such as this so precisely yet in a nearly metaphysical way almost defies belief. 

These are stunning examples of haiku, some on the near satori level of Zen (Blyth's especiality, as the fine folk say), many by classic haiku poets I have little familiarity with.  The magnitude of Blyth's life work may be extrapolated from this handful of works, done in some cases by seemingly 'minor' poets. 

Though this book is long out of print, it is still available for a song, as us humble folk are wont to say - check out copies here at abebooks, where you may often get better prices on new and used books from independent booksellers around the world than from the behemoth down the road.

All these years later, grouse or no, in all meanings of the word, Mr. Blyth shines through. We would hardly be here without him.


---------------- 

Chrysanthemum Secret (Photo) by W. S. Smith

perfectly straight
if we let it be...
chrysanthemum

 Issa

 translated by David G. Lanoue 

best,
Don

   

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Two Haiku: Ring Out the Old, Ringing in the New

Photo by Ritesh Man Tamraka

Ringing out the old, with a reminder from an old friend:

little tail twitching and gone...this world

                                                                       

Photo by Terence

And ringing in the new, from my new friend, Sho-u:



The first dream of the year;
I kept it a secret
And smiled to myself.

Sho-u
translated by R. H. Blyth

-------------

Artwork by Edward Lear

a new year--
the same nonsense
piled on nonsense

 Issa

 translated by David G. Lanoue 

best,
Don

 

This post was something of a collaborative work - thanks very much to my good friend, Joy McCall.

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The Way is Not Difficult: from Inscribed on the Believing Mind

Amida Waterfall by Hokusai

While deeply engrossed in the work of R. H. Blyth, I ran across this quote he took from Seng-Tsan:

 "The Way is not difficult; but you must avoid choosing!"

Curious, I tracked down the document from which it was taken, though not the same translation. So here is to sharing some sage advice as the seasons begin to turn once more:


Seng-Ts'an: author  from the Self-Discovery Portal
  Translated by Richard B. Clark

Hsin Hsin Ming
from Inscribed on the Believing Mind

The Great Way is not difficult
for those who have no preferences.
When love and hate are both absent
everything becomes clear and undisguised.
Make the smallest distinction, however,
and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart.
If you wish to see the truth
then hold no opinions for or against anything.
To set up what you like against what you dislike
is the disease of the mind.
When the deep meaning of things is not understood
the mind's essential peace is disturbed to no avail.

*

The Way is perfect like vast space
where nothing is lacking and nothing is in excess.
Indeed, it is due to our choosing to accept or reject
that we do not see the true nature of things.
Live neither in the entanglements of outer things,
nor in inner feelings of emptiness.
Be serene in the oneness of things
and such erroneous views will disappear by themselves.
When you try to stop activity to achieve passivity
your very effort fills you with activity.
As long as you remain in one extreme or the other
you will never know Oneness.
Those who do not live in the single Way
fail in both activity and passivity,
assertion and denial.
To deny the reality of things
is to miss their reality;
to assert the emptiness of things
is to miss their reality.
The more you talk and think about it,
the further astray you wander from the truth.
Stop talking and thinking,
and there is nothing you will not be able to know.
To return to the root is to find the meaning,
but to pursue appearances is to miss the source.
At the moment of inner enlightenment
there is a going beyond appearance and emptiness.
The changes that appear to occur in the empty world
we call real only because of our ignorance.
Do not search for the truth;
only cease to cherish opinions.

*

Do not remain in the dualistic state;
avoid such pursuits carefully.
If there is even a trace
of this and that, of right and wrong,
the Mind-essence will be lost in confusion.
Although all dualities come from the One,
do not be attached even to this One.
When the mind exists undisturbed in the Way,
nothing in the world can offend,
and when a thing can no longer offend,
it ceases to exist in the old way.

When no discriminating thoughts arise,
the old mind ceases to exist.
When thought objects vanish,
the thinking-subject vanishes.
Things are objects because of the subject;
the mind is such because of things.
Understand the relativity of these two
and the basic reality: the unity of emptiness.
In this Emptiness the two are indistinguishable
and each contains in itself the whole world.
If you do not discriminate between coarse and fine
you will not be tempted to prejudice and opinion.

*

To live in the Great Way
is neither easy nor difficult,
but those with limited views
are fearful and irresolute;
the faster they hurry, the slower they go,
and clinging cannot be limited;
even to be attached to the idea of enlightenment
is to go astray.
Just let things be in their own way,
and there will be neither coming nor going.

*

Obey the nature of things [your own nature],
and you will walk freely and undisturbed.
When thought is in bondage the truth is hidden,
for everything is murky and unclear,
and the burdensome practice of judging
brings annoyance and weariness.
What benefits can be derived
from distinctions and separations?
If you wish to move in the One Way,
do not dislike even the world of senses and ideas.
Indeed, to accept them fully
is identical with true Enlightenment.
The wise man strives to no goals
but the foolish man fetters himself.
There is one Dharma, not many;
distinctions arise
from the clinging needs of the ignorant.
To seek Mind with the mind
is the greatest of all mistakes.

*

Rest and unrest derive from illusion;
with enlightenment there is no liking and disliking.
All dualities come from ignorant inference.
They are like dreams or flowers in the air:
foolish to try to grasp them.
Gain and loss, right and wrong:
such thoughts must finally be abolished at once.

*

If the eye never sleeps,
all dreams will naturally cease.
If the mind makes no discriminations,
the ten thousand things
are as they are, of single essence.
To understand the mystery of this One-essence
is to be released from all entanglements.
When all things are seen equally
the timeless Self-essence is reached.
No comparisons or analogies are possible
in this causeless, relationless state.

Consider movement stationary
and the stationary in motion:
both movement and rest disappear.
When such dualities cease to exist
Oneness itself cannot exist.
To this ultimate finality
no law or description applies.

*

For the unified mind in accord with the Way
all self-centered striving ceases.
Doubts and irresolutions vanish
and life in true faith is possible.
With a single stroke we are freed from bondage;
nothing clings to us and we hold to nothing.
All is empty, clear, self-illuminating,
with no exertion of the mind's power.
Here thought, feeling, knowledge, and imagination
are of no value.
In this world of Suchness
there is neither self nor other-than-self.

*

To come directly into harmony with this reality
just simply say when doubt arises, 'Not two.'
In this 'not two' nothing is separate,
nothing is excluded.
No matter when or where,
enlightenment means entering this truth.
And this truth is beyond extension or diminution in time or space;
in it a single thought is ten thousand years.

*

Emptiness here, Emptiness there,
but the infinite universe stands
always before your eyes.
Infinitely large and infinitely small:
no difference, for definitions have vanished.
and no boundaries are seen.
So too with Being and non-Being.
Don't waste time in doubts and arguments
that have nothing to do with this.

*

One thing, all things:
move among and intermingle,
without distinction.
To live in this realization
is to be without anxiety about non-perfection.
To live in this faith is the road to non-duality,
because the non-dual is one with the trusting mind.

*

Words!
The Way is beyond language,
for in it there is
     no yesterday
          no tomorrow
               no today.




----------------------------------------

Photo by Jorge Stulfi

the way things are--
the bark-stripper's plum trees
are in bloom

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don 

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