the way
she says goodbye
this time
the sunset refills
her wine glass

Eucalypt #20, 2016

© Elliot Nicely (USA)

The two things I enjoyed the most about this tanka was the pivot from line 3 to line 4, and the ending image.

“this time” can be seen as part of lines 1-2 and part of lines 4-5. This is one of the great tools of tanka that can make reading them diverse and intriguing within only 5 lines. The pivot makes us read a bit slower and to consider what reading we should take.

The ending image is not only startling, but also brings up several references. Firstly, I see it referencing an overall solemn mood and the finality of the relationship. It is also interesting in its aesthetic in that the sunset, which marks the end of something, fills something up. In addition to these observations, I see a more mystical interpretation: wine in many poetic traditions is a reference for spiritual intoxication. In this way, the author could be telling us that his beloved has now left this earthly world, and has once again been reunited with the divine. Another way to look at it is that the poet’s beloved is still alive but has ended her spiritual seeking, and she has now found the truth, her self-realization.

The image of the sunset in the wine glass also has a grounding, earthly tone. It’s as if things have gone back to their original, non-abased self, and marks a return (or refill, if you will) to the naturalness of life.

And overall, as I mentioned before, there is a strong tone of finality to the tanka that lends to sadness, but also to acceptance.

If we look at the sound of the tanka, in the first two lines, most prominent is the “-ay” sound with “way,” “say,” and “goodbye.” Not only does it make it more musical, but it gives a stress to the moment at hand. In the second half of the tanka, the letter “i” features most, which to me as a reader gives a sense of awe.

A tanka with a range of possible interpretations and an engaging tone, all with simple language and no more than three words per line.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Before I provide commentary, let us see what the judge of the contest, Christine L. Villa (Philippines), said about this tanka:

The poet’s perfect choice of metaphor proves that humor can be used effectively in tanka. The verdant hills implies lushness which is in contrast to his growing bald spot. To emphasize the decreasing loss of hair, words are placed in descending order. A hint of annoyance about the poet’s aging is implied with the word “scratch”, but using humor in this tanka shows us his/her acceptance of this human condition. I enjoyed the surprise ending. Brilliant tanka!

[Source: http://www.mandys-pages.com/contests/annual-tanka-contest/192-atc2016-results%5D

To add, I would like to say how relatable this is. Men all over the world must feel this way, but don’t express it. To have poetry that is instantly relatable is always a plus for readers.

Also, note how fresh this tanka sounds compared to the court tanka of old. With the exception of the word “verdant,” the tanka is direct, rather than dependent on flashy lyricism. This makes for a much more communicable tanka and one that connects to the masses easily.

I also enjoy how the two last lines interact. It is expressing a paradox: emptiness is growing. But as we know, there is no space that is completely empty, and maybe he is reflecting that in older age, he has gained something within to compensate for that physical emptiness.

In terms of sound, the letter “l” in the first two lines give a sense of dignity to his childhood, and the letters “t” and “o” make the bald spot stand out more.

Combining humor with reminiscence and optimism, this tanka showcases a feeling that many have, but often do not put into words, helping readers come to terms with their own aging.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Not speaking of the way,
Not thinking of what comes after,
Not questioning name or fame,
Here, loving love,
You and I look at each other.

– Yosano Akiko (Japan) (1878–1942)

[translation by Kenneth Rexroth]

Before I comment on this tanka, Yasano Akiko should be properly introduced. Yosano Akiko is one of the most famous, and most controversial, post-classical woman poets of Japan and is best remembered for her innovative and controversial use of the tanka verse form. From an early age, she demonstrated an avid interest in literature, which she pursued after her formal schooling ended. As a young woman, Akiko attended meetings of the literary societies in Sakai. Her first published works were traditional poems that imitated classic Japanese literature. The growing influence in Japan of European Romanticism led to the development of “new poetry,” which condoned the expression of personal feelings and expanded the vocabulary of poetic diction. In their search to define a modern Japanese poetic voice, modern poets and dramatists have both revived old forms and created new means of expression.  It was in this literary milieu that Akiko wrote the passionate poetry for which she became best known. Her poetry openly expresses personal experience, especially romantic love, in language that was perceived as highly emotional to readers in early twentieth-century Japan. In 1901, Akiko moved to Tokyo to be with Yosano Hiroshi, a writer and editor whom she married later that year, shortly after the publication of her first book of poems Midaregami (Tangled Hair).

Hiroshi was a central figure in the Japanese Romantic movement and founder of the Shinshi Sha, (“New Poetry Society”) which published the “new poetry” journal Myōjō (“Bright Star”). After Myōjō ceased publication in 1908, Akiko wrote prolifically to help support her family. She gave birth to 13 children, 11 of whom survived to adulthood. Akiko wrote over 20 volumes of poetry and social commentary; essays ranged from feminist tracts to criticism of Japan’s foreign aggression, and her poetry reflects some of these concerns as well; also broke social taboos with poems about experiencing labor pains and the birth of her stillborn baby; published translations into modern Japanese of Murasaki Shikibu’s classic Genji monogatari (The Tale of Genji, 1912 and 1939) and Shinyaku Eiga Monogatari (“Newly Translated Tale of Flowering Fortunes”); also published a monumental compilation of 26,783 poems (including haiku, tanka, and etc.) written by 6,675 poets in modern times. A prominent pacifist and feminist, Yosano Akiko spoke out against the Sino-Japanese war and the growing nationalistic fervor of the times. She later founded a woman’s college, the Bunka Gakuin, in 1921 and made constructive statements on problems of women and education. [Adapted from the Living Haiku Anthology]

And now on to the tanka. To me, this tanka expresses the ultimate form of engrossed love. And as tradition in tanka, the “beloved” is not named, and sometimes not even hinted at. This universality lends itself to be read in multiple ways, and allows readers to see the experience of the poet in one’s own life without restrictions.

“Not speaking of the way,” is convex. She could be referring to the way she and her beloved love each other, or “The Way” in a spiritual sense in accordance with Zen and/or Taoism.

“Not thinking of what comes after,
Not questioning name or fame,”

These two lines cancel out what lovers usually worry about when trying to express themselves. Instead of thinking of long-time commitments or what the future might hold… instead of thinking of what benefits or drawbacks she can get receive from her expressed love, she is simply loving her beloved without a thought. Just the awareness of love is left.

“Here, loving love,”

This part seems to show a cyclical happening: the poet is in the bliss of love and gets further bliss simply by feeling it. The word “here” also brings the focus into the present moment and shows the importance of being in the now.

“You and I look at each other.”

We imagine the look as readers. Our imagination goes into the depth of what love is to us. Akiko doesn’t describe the look, but infers it instead. Japanese poetry in general seeks to let the reader have a large part in the poetic process. A lack of heavy-handedness is respected in Japanese poetry.

Though tanka was originally court poetry written by elite individuals in Japanese society, Yosano Akiko showed to a greater extent that tanka can be written without inhibition at the highest poetic level.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)