The journey of a lifetime: an introduction to Haiku

Haiku, generally presented as a moment in the now, relies upon contextual layers of personal and collective human history. In Japan, haiku draws upon a vast array of kidai  (seasonal topics). By 1647-48, the list of kidai had grown to more than thirteen hundred entries by Kitamura Kigin, Matsuo Basho’s haikai master (republished as Expanded Mountain Well, 1667). Kigo (season words) are sub-topics of the list. As this evidences, seventeenth century poets already had a cultural repertoire of key words and phrases from Japanese and Chinese poetry, mythology, famous places, festivals, and events that added context to their own lived experience and ordinary references. 

For the Japanese, kigo furnishes allegory—the universal metaphor. For example, blossom (cherry or plum) might allude to a young woman, and willow might suggest a feminine sensuality, autumn might allude to human decline, etc. The potential for layers of deeper meaning through the use of kigo provides a richer artistic palette than ordinary metaphors contain. 

Now that haiku has spread worldwide we need to identify references that encapsulates a Deep Well within specific cultures and regions. In Africa, for instance, many places situated closer to the equator than Japan are at a loss to fit verses within the four named seasons plus New Year, festivals, and various celestial events. Yet, surely, Africa has more unique references to draw upon than being limited to harmattan and rain. Perhaps unfamiliarity with the distinctive flora and fauna of a given region and when they occur may also compound the difficulty for some writers. Yet, even sources such as ancient scriptural references can furnish universal themes. Think, for instance, what it means when Nathanael is seen sitting under a fig tree. Without even knowing that this is a classical reference to a place where Israelites pray and meditate we might recognize it to be where the tree drops millions of fig seeds. What an image of fruitfulness, sweetness, and intrinsic goodness, where everything is right with the world and promises regenerative power!

The haiku poet’s key to success lies in using references in a fresh context, not simply grabbing onto fleetingly popular themes encountered on the web. Themes and prompts serve as good practice for the beginner, and reviewing lists of other writers’ verses derived from prompts could trigger new avenues of exploration.  Ultimately, though, writers must find their own voice to show something unique to the world in verse. Basho again comes to mind as a master of nuance. Of his one thousand and thirty-four verses, only nine of his verses are about yume/dreams, each offering a variation on what the word represents (listed in the order in which they were written):

1.         富士の雪慮生が夢をつかせたり Basho age 34 (1678)

Fuji no yuki Rosei ga yume o tsukasetari

snow on Mount Fuji –

Rosei creates the world

in his dream

                                                            (Tr. ?)

2.         餅を夢に折り結ふ歯朶の草枕 Basho age 38 (1682?)

mochi o yume ni ori musubu shida no kusa makura

I dream of rice cakes

decorated with ferns

on my pillow of grass

(Tr. Greve)

3.         馬に寝て残夢月遠し茶の煙

uma ni nete zanmu tsuki tooshi cha no kemuri  (1684)

dozing on my horse,

with dream lingering and moon distant:

smoke from a tea fire

(Tr. Barnhill)

4.         夢よりも現の鷹ぞ頼もしき　 (1687 at Irago Pt. w/ Tokoku)

yume yori mo utsutsu no taka zo tanomoshiki

more than dreams

the hawk of reality

heartens me

(Tr. Barnhill)

5.         明日は粽難波の枯葉夢なれや Basho age 44 (1688)

asu wa chimaki Naniwa no kareha yume nare ya

by tomorrow

the chimaki leaves from Naniwa will become dry

and become a dream . . .

(Tr. Greve)

6.         蛸壺やはかなき夢を夏の月 (1688)

takotsubo ya hakanaki yume o natsu no tsuki

an octopus pot ---

inside, a short-lived dream

under the summer moon

                                                            (Tr. ?)

7.         夏草や兵どもが夢の跡
  (1689)

natsukusa ya tsuwamono-domo ga yume no ato  

summer grass -


that's all that remains of


brave warriors' dreams 


                                                           (Tr. Greve)

8.         君や蝶我や荘子が夢心  (1690)

kimi ya cho ware ya Sôshi ga yume-gokoro

            You are the butterfly

            And I the dreaming heart

            Of Chuang-tzu

                                                            (Tr. Aitken)

9.         旅に病で夢は枯野をかけ廻る (Basho’s death verse)

tabi ni yande yume wa kareno o kakemeguru  (Nov. 28, 1694)

falling ill while travelling –

in my dreams I am wandering

over withered fields

(Tr. Greve)

Within the context of the admittedly limited translation choices, above, we have a glimpse of a twenty-six year journey, beginning by harkening back to the ancient past, and culminating in Basho’s death verse, as he is in the throes of leaving his own body: 

#1. (1668): Basho declares the connection he is making –– the vertical axis is  stated directly in classical context of the Chinese tale of Lu Sheng (廬生), (713 -  741), who is known in Japanese as Rosei; the unbounded world of mythological  dreams

#2. (1682?): Basho seems to be daydreaming of New Year treats while living in austerity; longing

#3. (1684): half-dreaming; dream residue

#4. (1687): Basho reunites with his friend Tokoku who is living in exile at Irago Point; here reality is more fulfilling than what was imagined or hoped for

#5. (1688): the chimaki leaves’ impermanence; in a day they will become little more than husks; a memory

#6. (1688): the octopus’ short life passing with the summer moon

#7. (1689): the hopes and ambitions of ancient warriors vanquished

#8. (1690): metamorphosis and thoughts of an imagined previous life

#9. (1694): delirium of illness; out-of-body experience; perhaps the mind surveying its withering host

Perhaps Basho had written another fifty or more verses that he eventually discarded, but the ones he retained use yume only in its subtle variations. These nuances of the word dream evidence the depth of the master’s attention to refining his collection of verses. He’s left us a hint as to how to look at such a topic, which is readily available to the English language writer.

While we’re on the great Haiku Master Basho, lest we think only in terms of classic forms and constraints, here’s a verse without kigo in which Basho pokes fun at himself. Basho writes about his visit to Mie Prefecture, Yokkaichi, and his encounter with the famous slope that lies between Uneme and Ishiyakushi villages, called Tsuetsukizaka, which means ‘a slope to climb with a walking stick’. Basho explains in his journal:

"I rented a horse at the village of Hinaga ... so I could ride up Walking-stick Hill. But my pack-saddle overturned and I was thrown from the horse.” Details furnished by Gabi Greve’s online resource Matsuo Basho Archives provides this backstory connection: After the legendary hero Yamato Takeru no Kami 日本武尊 had fought with the wild deities of Mount Ibukisan , he was so tired that he had to use a stick to walk this slope.

kachi naraba Tsuetsuki-zaka o rakuba kana 

if only I had walked

Walking-stick Hill:

falling from my horse 

(Tr. Barnhill) 

It is worth noting that Basho had proposed that famous place names might substitute for kigo. Here too, a famous, even legendary event comes into play as Basho writes about his own human foible, which bears witness to the scholarship of true classics. Such comic verses as this would be separated out as a distinct category of verses in the eighteenth century called senryu, named for Senryu Karai (1718-1790), by whom the comic verse-type came into wider public consciousness. Senryu verses are distinguished from haiku by their lack of kigo and kireji (cutting word/cut marker). Japanese senryu of the Edo period was usually written anonymously in order to safely poke fun at government officials and the upper classes. 

Over time, a trend has developed in the West that is melding haiku and senryu back together, following upon a trend to delete kireji, haiku’s short/long/short form, and even seasonal references, all of which originally defined haiku as a distinct poetic genre. Something new has emerged that is essentially a brief free verse format that embraces three, two, one or even four-line formats or a variety of graphic forms. Additionally, we now see a trend to write heady verses that describe inner thought processes as wells as the use of a variety of Western literary devices. These are interesting experiments that are having an effect on Western poetics. Surely, mind puzzles can offer relief from other thought trains in a complex, often difficult, and rapidly changing world. However, since haiku is meant to ‘show, not tell’, the use of trendy styles, tropes, and devices need careful consideration lest they grandstand the author’s cleverness, overshadowing all else.

Japan has had a variety of haiku schools with widely varying approaches. From the distance of time we can see which approaches were a flash in the pan and which have endured. Keeping this in mind, we shouldn’t become resistant to innovation either, but make conscious choices as we play our parts in the ongoing development of haiku in our own little corners of the world. 

With all good wishes for the successful launch of the Idanre Haiku Review,

—Elaine Andre