Haiku / Poetry

As a sort of reply to a newly found American friend who visited the site and commented that there was nothing about Japanese art on it! 

I thought it time to become slightly more serious and throw in some bits on the subject of Oriental art, of which I profess no expertise. 

Now, if we consider that Japan has the odd habit of raising artists in all their varied forms, to that of a living national treasure (can you imagine this happening in GB?  The tirade of abuse from the media would utterly destroy the individual concerned.)  

Where do we start in this initial exploration ........Zen Haiku........ Haiku is perhaps is certainly my least favourite of the art forms, (can you call poetry an art form?) yet it is currently trendy in the west and many people write vast amounts of it and on the subject itself. Although I cannot in all honesty say I like or appreciate Haiku, I stumbled on a book called 'A Mountain tasting'. Translated by John Stevens who gives an excellent introduction to the subject and author of the Haiku in the volume, Santoku Taneda. 

Taneda (1882-1940) is admired in Japan for his free style Haiku and Zen life style. He also pursued one of my lifelong delights with gusto, Sake (Japanese Rice wine) although it must have been considerably cheaper in those days and in that country as he ended most days charmed by the liquor - whilst I can afford that pleasure perhaps three times a year. 

This first haiku will tell all on that subject ............... 

Sake for the body 

Haiku for the heart 

Sake is the Haiku of the body  

Haiku is the Sake of the heart. 

Tanada wandered the country in a state of self-imposed poverty, perhaps today he would not have survived, but this earnest and drunken traveller wrote, begged and pursued his goal in a world that most westerners could not comprehend. 

One Haiku I thought you may enjoy............... 

Yama areba yama 

Miru ame no hi ame 

Kiko haru natsu aki fuyu 

ashita mo yorihi 

Yube mo yorishi  

If there are mountains, I look at the mountains.   

On rainy days I listen to the rain. 

Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. 

Tomorrow too will be good. 

Tonight too is good. 

Of course not being a poetry fan (yet) and coming from the west, it is all the more difficult to appreciate this art form. The oriental visual arts in the forms of lacquer, Ukoyo-e (Wood block prints) carving, etc. suit us far better and are perhaps less intellectual?  Yet is this not an intriguing offering from the far east?

--------------Back to alcohol for a moment------------------- 

Sake, Zen & Haiku.  We are now aware were the main theme of Tanada's life (and why not as he was a drunken beggar driven by drink and partial starvation, they were always present - often indistinguishable from his reality. My final choice of his Haiku is this.......... 

Swallows fly away 

From today, more and more travels; 

I tie on my straw sandals. 

Oriental poetry does not have to be obscure.  Some years ago my sensei/tutor in the field of Japanese/Chinese arts showed me his pet relaxation, the translation of archaic Sino Japanese poetry. Dr Frank Turk was a classic scholar of the old school, a gentle intellectual who showed me a huge amount of patience and advised where he thought I may both benefit and also where he believed I may comprehend. 

His subject included Chinese and Japanese arts and crafts (His excellent and sadly now out of print book, 'The Prints of Japan' shows a wonderful enthusiasm for the subject and ranges across from the brothels of the Yoshiwara to the Edo publishers seals). One afternoon we sat in his tiny cottage discussing some Shunga prints he wished to dispose of when I noticed a notepad with a mass of his tiny writing, I asked what this project might be. He pushed the sheets across the table and said that purely for pleasure, he sorted out obscure Chinese & Japanese poetry, translated it and (for reasons I still do not understand) destroyed the translations. Here is one I saved.............. 

To get on in the world was once my whole desire 

But years flow past like water and my hair is grey 

And now whilst poem penning 

One old dream, like fire, burns up my mind 

The dream of a spring day. 

(From the Sino Japanese of the Priest Tsujo) 

So this brief and pedestrian peek into poetry ends, never pretended to be other than a question really. I am sure that any out there have a Knowledge and appreciation that we could all benefit from, so, perhaps you may wish to enlighten at least me. 

Finally another from the same source.......Dr FAT 

Whilst I have been contemplating myself moving about this world 

The hue of the flowers has faded into vanity 

The beauty of the waterfall is unchanging 

Oh why must we grow old in vain. 

I guess we are all there at some point. 

Greyman