Month: November 2016

Mutamagawa’s Fart

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn SenryuLeave a comment

the great monk’s fart
totally forgotten

– Anonymous

(From the Mutamagawa, an anthology of senryu in 1750)

Most senryu were written anonymously in the 1700s in Japan because of their often explicit and personal nature. In senryu, no one and nothing is safe or sacred enough to escape being written about in a critical or joking way.

In this instance, we have a humorous senryu about a senior monk. Though the first line is funny, the second line has overtones of spirituality, believe it or not.

The last line is an invitation to a riddle: why was the great monk’s fart totally forgotten? Well, in Buddhism, you are supposed to live in the present moment, and be beyond thoughts of the past and future.

There is a story of a man who shouted obscenities at the Buddha, but when he learned that it was the Buddha who he spoke to crassly, the next day he met with him. He said, “I’m sorry for saying all those bad things to you the other day.” And the Buddha replied, “What do you mean? I live in the moment.”

This senryu is expressing this teaching, albeit in a silly way. It even shows how great the monk really was as a teacher if his students could forgot about his fart.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

 

 

 

Christina Sng’s Path

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn HaikuLeave a comment

forest path
tracing the veins
on her hand

hedgerow #94, October 2016

© Christina Sng (Singapore)

What I like most about this haiku is its juxtaposition and the pivot in line two.

In haiku, there are usually two parts. The two parts here are “forest path” and “tracing the veins on her hand.” Despite there being no punctuation in this haiku, in English, lines can be a form of punctuation. In Japanese, they have kireji, or cutting words that act as punctuation. However, they are mostly used in poetry, and not in common written Japanese.

Anyways, it is a great observation to compare a forest path to one’s veins on one’s hand. Both weave, but both run to reach a destination through which one can to get the essence of something. It is the heart, and the depth of the nature. We take paths into the forest to go further away from what humans have made, and yet the poet makes an apt comparison between a forest path to the depth of nature and our own veins. Maybe this juxtaposition is also pointing out the similarity between the trail made by human hands, and the hands themselves.

The pivot line is genius. The second line can be read as a part of both the first and third line. It can mean the forest path, with its overhanging vegetation, is touching her hand and traces the veins on it. It could also mean that the way she traces her veins on her hand (with a pen, or simply with her finger) is similar to the forest path. Indeed, we have a forest within us, branching out as nerves, or as thoughts and memories, or as the magnitude of our soul.

Sonically, the “f” sound in “forest” and “veins” give the haiku more weight, and the “a” sound in “path” “tracing” and “hand” supplies a sense of awe.

A haiku that brings many images to one’s mind and many associations, in only eight words. It has a spiritual aftertaste, and gives off a mystical atmosphere when read. That is one of the gifts of haiku: they may seem matter-of-fact, but often express more than what can be said in long prose.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Yokoi Yayū’s Heat

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn SenryuLeave a comment

the well digger
comes out into the floating world—
the heat!

Yokoi Yayū (1702–1783) (Japan)

Before we get into this senryu, let’s take a look at the poet himself. Yokoi Yayū was a Japanese samurai best known for his haibun, a scholar of Kokugaku, and haikai poet, though he was also an expert in tea ceremonies and martial arts.

He learned haikai from Mutō Hajaku and Ōta Hajō. Hajaku and Hajō were pupils of Kagami Shikō, a leading disciple of Matsuo Bashō. Mori Senzō, a student of old Japanese literature, compared his hokku to senryū, and said they were not as interesting as his haibun. Yayū has been described as a master of haibun, and Nagai Kafū called Yayū’s haibun a model of Japanese prose.

Though Yayu was highly respected for his haibun, we are going to go over one of his senryu, or short poem pondering the foibles of human nature.

There is something in this senryu that some readers might not be familiar with: the floating world (ukiyo). What is it? Well, the floating world is a term that describes the urban lifestyle, especially the pleasure-seeking aspects, of Edo-period Japan (1600–1867). The floating world culture developed in Yoshiwara, the licensed red-light district of Edo (modern Tokyo), which was the site of many brothels, chashitsu, and kabuki theaters frequented by Japan’s growing middle class. The ukiyo culture also arose in other cities such as Osaka and Kyoto.

The term ukiyo (when meaning the floating world) is also an ironic allusion to the homophone ukiyo (憂き世 “Sorrowful World”), the earthly plane of death and rebirth from which Buddhists sought release.

So, like many words used in literature, “floating word” has at least two connotations. This open-endedness is one of the main features of senryu and haiku. It is important to have an open interpretation in senryu and haiku, as there are only a few words used, and you want readers to get the most they can from those words.

The juxtaposition in the senryu is intriguing because “the heat!” can mean at least two things. It could be the heat from the day and the feeling of being in the now when struck with that heat. On the other hand, it could be a play on the idea that hell is hot, (where the well digger was digging), and he came up to the surface with a surprise that the same heat that hell had was present on Earth. In a sense, the poet is hinting that hell is on Earth, and that it is not so supernatural after all. This idea of hell also coincides with both definitions of the floating world.

As you can see, senryu, though often humorous, can also have a lot of depth and introspective ideas. Senryu are more about conveying thoughts, and haiku are more about conveying a mood, and ultimately the human heart in connection with the natural world. Each genre has its place in literature, and can equally stir us towards being better people.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)