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)

how can we quell
the burning thoughts
that inflame the body?
only by encountering
the cooling wind

– Saigyō Hōshi (Japan)

Tr. Stephen Addiss

Before I dive into the tanka itself, I want to supply some information about this renowned Japanese writer.

Saigyō Hōshi (西行 法師, 1118 – 1190) was a famous Japanese poet of the late Heian and early Kamakura period. Born Satō Norikiyo (佐藤 義清) in Kyoto to a noble family, he lived during the traumatic transition of power between the old court nobles and the new samurai warriors. After the start of the Age of Mappō (1052), Buddhism was considered to be in decline and no longer as effective a means of salvation. These cultural shifts during his lifetime led to a sense of melancholy in his poetry. As a youth, he worked as a guard to retired Emperor Toba, but in 1140 at the age of 22, for reasons now unknown, he quit worldly life to become a monk, taking the religious name En’i (円位). He later took the pen name, “Saigyō” meaning Western Journey, a reference to Amida Buddha and the Western paradise. He lived alone for long periods in his life in Saga, Mt. Koya, Mt. Yoshino, Ise, and many other places, but he is more known for the many long, poetic journeys he took to Northern Honshū that would later inspire Matsuo Bashō in his Narrow Road to the Interior. Some main collections of Saigyō’s work are in the Sankashū, Shin Kokin Wakashū, and Shika Wakashū. He died in Hirokawa Temple in Kawachi Province (present-day Osaka Prefecture) at the age of 72.

In Saigyō’s time, the Man’yōshū was no longer a significant influence on waka poetry, compared to the Kokin Wakashū. Where the Kokin Wakashū was concerned with subjective experience, word play, flow, and elegant diction (neither colloquial nor pseudo-Chinese), the Shin Kokin Wakashū (formed with poetry written by Saigyō and others writing in the same style) was less subjective, had fewer verbs and more nouns, was not as interested in word play, allowed for repetition, had breaks in the flow, was slightly more colloquial, and more somber and melancholic. Due to the turbulent times, Saigyō focuses not just on mono no aware (sorrow from change) but also on sabi (loneliness) and kanashi (sadness).

To me, Saigyō is a great self-realized poet who showed his depth of spirituality through symbolism. This tanka is no exception. The idea that thoughts can inflame the body is quite a Zen idea, I would say. The Zen state is being aware without thoughts. The burning might be real or metaphorical. If we indulge in thoughts, we set our reality ablaze instead of seeing it in its natural serenity. Speaking on a physical level, thoughts are reactions to stimuli, and these reactions can even heat up our liver and cause our body to heat up.

However, the last two lines can also be taken literally or figuratively. Saigyō was a wanderer and hermit who survived harsh conditions. He may have been giving credit to nature to exposing him to his true self by settling his thoughts through cool wind. But this also could be a reference to the wind that Bashō said called him to poetry. This wind, felt on the palms and above the head when one is a self-realized person, has been described in many spiritual practices and traditions, including Zen. It is interesting he says “cooling wind” instead of “freezing wind or “cold wind,” as “cooling wind” points more to a soothing experience, and possibly to the experience of wind being emitted from the hands and above the head from enlightenment. To some readers, feeling a cool breeze coming out of one’s hands and head may seem far-fetched, but this experience has been recorded by Christian, Islamic, Hindu, Buddhist, and many other traditions in the past and currently.

Personally, I believe Saigyō is talking directly about his experience as a self-realized person, and tells readers that they need to feel their eternal spirit to fully dispel their thoughts in order to know reality. Unless and until we experience this, reality will always be clouded by what we think of it.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

alms round…
a monk hiding
his begging bowl

From An Unswept Path.

© Malintha Perera (Sri Lanka)

An “alms round” refers to when a monk or a person who has given up mundane life for spiritual ascension, seeks food and water from surrounding people. From the ellipsis, we see that the alms round is not short, but a long process.

In the second line, we are revealed that the monk is hiding something. Usually, monks are transparent people that do not have anything to hide–physical or personal. I enjoy how  Malintha plays with the word “hides” and is hiding the surprise for us in the third line by cutting the line off at “hides.”

Then, we are revealed that the monk is hiding his begging bowl. Readers might have several questions. Is the monk hiding the bowl to make people perceive him in a more favorable light or not as a monk? Is the monk hiding the bowl with a feeling of doubt of his begging practice? Or is the monk hiding the begging bowl from himself, to forget that he is begging, and to be more in the present moment by eliminating thoughts about begging? The poet does not say, nor should she say.

The mystery of this haiku gives it power. I believe when Malintha used “a monk” instead of “the monk,” she was pointing towards the selflessness of the monk. The hiding of the begging bowl brings in a Zen idea of not being attached and bounded by thoughts. The monk possibly wants to be in between the state of begging and not begging, so that no attachment to identity can be made.

The “o” sound runs through the haiku with “round” “monk” and “bowl.” It gives the perception of the elongation of the begging and how tiring it can be. It can also give the impression of the bowl itself, with its roundness.

With a few simple words, Malintha has created a philosophical mystery and a chance for us to delve deeper into (or out of) our identity.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

soldiers
took them by their hands
step by step
across the minefields
the wind

————————–

Original German:

von den Soldaten
an der Hand geführt
Schritt für Schritt
über die Minenfelder
der Wind

© Eva Limbach (Germany) (2016)

The contrast of the freedom of the wind, and the self-made dangers of war (minefields) is stark. I believe Eva is pointing towards how human nature has been separated from the natural world.

The languid pace of the tanka helps us to realize and come to the last line stronger. Though the last line is simple, it is effective and even shocks a reader.

From what I can read from this translation, the language is simple, but each word counts. I think Eva has got to the heart of an important issue without telling too much or explaining too much–which is precisely why poetry like tanka and haiku are so effective.

She truly used the “show, don’t tell” principle in this tanka. An inspiring work.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)