Title: Dissection of the Haiku Tradition (8)
Wind
When I was a small child, my grandmother told me the spring wind brought a wicked spirit. “Once this
spirit enters your body, it will try to remove a plug in your brain. Then, you will become mentally unbalanced,”
she said.
“How can I protect my brain?” I asked. My grandmother advised me to wear a hat.
muzugayuki tsubasa no tsukene nehan-nishi
roots of my wings
are itchy—
west wind from Nirvana
Yuko Masaki (1)
Nehan-nishi (west wind from Nirvana) is a spring kigo.
Our ancestors had tails when they climbed down from trees, didn’t they? I do not miss a tail, but
sometimes I wish I had wings. Then I ask myself a question. If I can be something with wings, what do I want to
be? A cicada? I do not want to spend seven years underground. A butterfly? I am not very thrilled about being
caught in the spider’s web. A pigeon? I would like to avoid becoming a scavenger in the city streets. A swan?
I prefer a bird with a beautiful singing voice. A phoenix? I may need the special courage to fly into a fire to be
re-born, however a phoenix may not be a bad choice. I could enjoy several cycles of life.
tsuwagochi ni sentakubasami hisshinaru
in the strong east wind
those clothes-pegs
are frantic
Minako Kato (2)
Kochi (eastern wind), or a variation of it, is a spring kigo.
As a naturalized citizen of the United States, I am satisfied with my life here. San Francisco, where I live,
has shops selling Japanese food. A public library has a good collection of books in Japanese. There is a video
shop if I want to watch Japanese TV programs. What do I miss as an expatriate? The smell of sun on freshly
laundered clothes. A dryer is very convenient. I will not trade places with a housewife in Tokyo who takes the
laundry in and out several times a day based on the changing weather. Still, artificial scent cannot surpass the
sunshine.
In the above haiku Minako Kato personified the clothes-pegs. Without the word ‘hisshinaru’ ‘(being frantic), I
cannot have a vivid image of clothes-pegs in the strong wind. They are fighting for the clothes they are
supposed to protect.
Early summer, around June, is the rainy season in Japan. Kurohae (black south wind) is the wind during
this long spell of rainy weather. It is not a stormy rain as in the August typhoon season. Perpetual, steady rain
goes on for days. It may cause mold in the furniture. Food goes bad quicker than usual. Japanese department
stores keep umbrellas in a wide selection of designs and colors.
When the rain front moves north, the Meteorological Agency announces the official end of the rainy season. The
sky becomes bright. Cicadas start singing.
shirohae ya keshō ni moreshi mimi no kage
white south wind—
she forgets to apply makeup
behind her ears
Sōjō Hino (2)
Shirohae (white south wind) is the wind in high summer.
In the neighborhood I grew up in Tokyo, there was a woman who used to be a geisha. My grandmother did
not want me to be too friendly with this woman. My dream then was to become a singer or an actress. When I
went to a public bath house, I spent more time in front of the big mirror than in the tub or at the washing area.
My grandmother usually chatted with her friends, while I was practicing my act. But each time this woman
came in, my grandmother and her friends started to leave.
“You don’t want to be a kept woman like her,” my grandmother lowered her voice, casting cold glance towards
the woman.
uba hitori ironaki kaze no naka ni sumu
an old lady by herself
lives in the wind
without colors
Tenkō Kawasaki (2)
Some of Japanese kigo are based on either Chinese poem or Japanese waka. The kigo in above haiku,
ironaki kaze (colorless wind) is based on the following waka.
fukikureba minimo shimikeru akikaze o ironaki monoto omoikeru kana
when it blows
it penetrates my body
I think this autumnal wind
is a thing
without colors
Tomonori Kino (3)
The concept of this kigo, ‘colorless wind,’ is not about being a rebel. But my mind wonders to the ancient
aristocrats or emperors who were sent away to the lonesome islands as political exiles. There is a Japanese
proverb about uniformity: a nail sticking out will be hit by a hammer.
shinigami ni shirimochi tsukase kamaitachi
a demon of death
is fell on his buttocks—
a weasel phantom in the wind
Shō Hayashi (1)
Kamaitachi (literally, kama means ‘a sickle’ and itachi ‘a weasel’) is a winter kigo based on Japanese
ancient belief. In the cold region, a whirlwind on a winter day can cause a cut on human skin. Ancient
Japanese believed a weasel-like phantom caused the problem by using its sickle.
Tsuyoshi Domoto, a contemporary Japanese singer in his twenties, wrote a song in titled ‘Koi No
Kamaitachi’ (Weasel Phantom for Love). His lyrics include the following phrase.
The weasel phantom in the wind tells me
It is pointless to cut a heart
That knows no doubt
The phantom in Domoto’s song is not interested in pure hearts. From time to time, we may need to bleed a
little to speed recovery. Listening to this song, I ask myself why I am fascinated with the wind or wind-related
kigo. I have been living in San Francisco for nearly twelve years. I have not changed my residence since 1997.
I do not have any plan to move. I am settled here. I am comfortable here. Yet, I do not want to lose the spirit of
a wanderer.
I wrote having wings is not a bad idea. Why do I wish to have wings? Without wings, it may be difficult
traveling in the wind. I do not want to be blown away as a fallen leaf. With wings, I may have a better chance to
win the fight against the wind than the clothes-pegs in Minako Kato’s haiku. If I become the wind itself, some
poets may call me colorless. As the wind, I may become playful with my sickle.
I believe in circles and cycles. I am happy to know that the earth is a sphere. The wind born in the Pacific
Ocean may circle around the globe and touch my cheek some day.
gust—
Zephyr steals the kite
from a boy’s hand
Fay Aoyagi (4)
When you surf the Internet, you will find sites telling the names of winds from all over the world; including
the wind gods in Greek Mythology. California has Santa Ana and Diablo winds. Your region may have a unique
wind name to use in your haiku. I am not seeking submissions from the readers. This suggestion is for your
personal exercise.
Next theme will be ‘inner landscape.’
(1) Gendai Saijiki (Modern Saijiki), edited by Tota Kaneko, Momoko Kuroda, Ban’ya Natsuishi, Seisei
Shuppan, Tokyo, 1997
(2) Dai Saijiki (Comprehensive Saijiki) edited by Shuoshi Mizuhara, et al, Kodansha, Tokyo, 1982
(3) Haiku Saijiki edited by Fusei Tomiyasu, Kenkichi Yamamoto, et al, Heibonsha, Tokyo, 1971
(4) Unpublished
All Japanese translation by Fay Aoyagi.
Wind
When I was a small child, my grandmother told me the spring wind brought a wicked spirit. “Once this
spirit enters your body, it will try to remove a plug in your brain. Then, you will become mentally unbalanced,”
she said.
“How can I protect my brain?” I asked. My grandmother advised me to wear a hat.
muzugayuki tsubasa no tsukene nehan-nishi
roots of my wings
are itchy—
west wind from Nirvana
Yuko Masaki (1)
Nehan-nishi (west wind from Nirvana) is a spring kigo.
Our ancestors had tails when they climbed down from trees, didn’t they? I do not miss a tail, but
sometimes I wish I had wings. Then I ask myself a question. If I can be something with wings, what do I want to
be? A cicada? I do not want to spend seven years underground. A butterfly? I am not very thrilled about being
caught in the spider’s web. A pigeon? I would like to avoid becoming a scavenger in the city streets. A swan?
I prefer a bird with a beautiful singing voice. A phoenix? I may need the special courage to fly into a fire to be
re-born, however a phoenix may not be a bad choice. I could enjoy several cycles of life.
tsuwagochi ni sentakubasami hisshinaru
in the strong east wind
those clothes-pegs
are frantic
Minako Kato (2)
Kochi (eastern wind), or a variation of it, is a spring kigo.
As a naturalized citizen of the United States, I am satisfied with my life here. San Francisco, where I live,
has shops selling Japanese food. A public library has a good collection of books in Japanese. There is a video
shop if I want to watch Japanese TV programs. What do I miss as an expatriate? The smell of sun on freshly
laundered clothes. A dryer is very convenient. I will not trade places with a housewife in Tokyo who takes the
laundry in and out several times a day based on the changing weather. Still, artificial scent cannot surpass the
sunshine.
In the above haiku Minako Kato personified the clothes-pegs. Without the word ‘hisshinaru’ ‘(being frantic), I
cannot have a vivid image of clothes-pegs in the strong wind. They are fighting for the clothes they are
supposed to protect.
Early summer, around June, is the rainy season in Japan. Kurohae (black south wind) is the wind during
this long spell of rainy weather. It is not a stormy rain as in the August typhoon season. Perpetual, steady rain
goes on for days. It may cause mold in the furniture. Food goes bad quicker than usual. Japanese department
stores keep umbrellas in a wide selection of designs and colors.
When the rain front moves north, the Meteorological Agency announces the official end of the rainy season. The
sky becomes bright. Cicadas start singing.
shirohae ya keshō ni moreshi mimi no kage
white south wind—
she forgets to apply makeup
behind her ears
Sōjō Hino (2)
Shirohae (white south wind) is the wind in high summer.
In the neighborhood I grew up in Tokyo, there was a woman who used to be a geisha. My grandmother did
not want me to be too friendly with this woman. My dream then was to become a singer or an actress. When I
went to a public bath house, I spent more time in front of the big mirror than in the tub or at the washing area.
My grandmother usually chatted with her friends, while I was practicing my act. But each time this woman
came in, my grandmother and her friends started to leave.
“You don’t want to be a kept woman like her,” my grandmother lowered her voice, casting cold glance towards
the woman.
uba hitori ironaki kaze no naka ni sumu
an old lady by herself
lives in the wind
without colors
Tenkō Kawasaki (2)
Some of Japanese kigo are based on either Chinese poem or Japanese waka. The kigo in above haiku,
ironaki kaze (colorless wind) is based on the following waka.
fukikureba minimo shimikeru akikaze o ironaki monoto omoikeru kana
when it blows
it penetrates my body
I think this autumnal wind
is a thing
without colors
Tomonori Kino (3)
The concept of this kigo, ‘colorless wind,’ is not about being a rebel. But my mind wonders to the ancient
aristocrats or emperors who were sent away to the lonesome islands as political exiles. There is a Japanese
proverb about uniformity: a nail sticking out will be hit by a hammer.
shinigami ni shirimochi tsukase kamaitachi
a demon of death
is fell on his buttocks—
a weasel phantom in the wind
Shō Hayashi (1)
Kamaitachi (literally, kama means ‘a sickle’ and itachi ‘a weasel’) is a winter kigo based on Japanese
ancient belief. In the cold region, a whirlwind on a winter day can cause a cut on human skin. Ancient
Japanese believed a weasel-like phantom caused the problem by using its sickle.
Tsuyoshi Domoto, a contemporary Japanese singer in his twenties, wrote a song in titled ‘Koi No
Kamaitachi’ (Weasel Phantom for Love). His lyrics include the following phrase.
The weasel phantom in the wind tells me
It is pointless to cut a heart
That knows no doubt
The phantom in Domoto’s song is not interested in pure hearts. From time to time, we may need to bleed a
little to speed recovery. Listening to this song, I ask myself why I am fascinated with the wind or wind-related
kigo. I have been living in San Francisco for nearly twelve years. I have not changed my residence since 1997.
I do not have any plan to move. I am settled here. I am comfortable here. Yet, I do not want to lose the spirit of
a wanderer.
I wrote having wings is not a bad idea. Why do I wish to have wings? Without wings, it may be difficult
traveling in the wind. I do not want to be blown away as a fallen leaf. With wings, I may have a better chance to
win the fight against the wind than the clothes-pegs in Minako Kato’s haiku. If I become the wind itself, some
poets may call me colorless. As the wind, I may become playful with my sickle.
I believe in circles and cycles. I am happy to know that the earth is a sphere. The wind born in the Pacific
Ocean may circle around the globe and touch my cheek some day.
gust—
Zephyr steals the kite
from a boy’s hand
Fay Aoyagi (4)
When you surf the Internet, you will find sites telling the names of winds from all over the world; including
the wind gods in Greek Mythology. California has Santa Ana and Diablo winds. Your region may have a unique
wind name to use in your haiku. I am not seeking submissions from the readers. This suggestion is for your
personal exercise.
Next theme will be ‘inner landscape.’
(1) Gendai Saijiki (Modern Saijiki), edited by Tota Kaneko, Momoko Kuroda, Ban’ya Natsuishi, Seisei
Shuppan, Tokyo, 1997
(2) Dai Saijiki (Comprehensive Saijiki) edited by Shuoshi Mizuhara, et al, Kodansha, Tokyo, 1982
(3) Haiku Saijiki edited by Fusei Tomiyasu, Kenkichi Yamamoto, et al, Heibonsha, Tokyo, 1971
(4) Unpublished
All Japanese translation by Fay Aoyagi.
Essay 8