Read poems below or click on their numbers to comment and share.
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Welcome to Nippoem!
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23
Sketch
Winter solstice
the old woman, light like an air pillow
dozing off with a smileTwilight
From the silent mountain
big tree-leaves come falling
Moon
the frog-like quacking of water birds
clicking along the road, translucent troops pass(Miyoshi Tatsuji 三好達治)
– – –
Shasei
tōji
rōba wa kūkimakura no yō ni karui
inemurinagara waratteiruyūgure
shin to shita yama kara
ōkina konoha ga ochitekuru
tsuki
kaeru no yō ni naiteiru mizudori
saku saku to, kaidō o tōmei na heitai ga tōru– – –
写生
冬至
老婆は空気枕のやうに軽い
居睡りながら笑つてゐる夕暮
しんとした山から
大きな木の葉が落ちて来る
月
蛙のやうに啼いてゐる水禽
さく さく と、街道を透明な兵隊が通る -
22
What on earth is this all about, the butterfly seems to think, as it goes berserk over the flower offerings
何事ぞ手向し花に狂ふ蝶
nanigoto zo tamukeshi hana ni kurū chō
(Natsume Sōseki 夏目漱石)
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1.
The verb tamuku means to make an offering to gods, spirits of the deceased, etc. Here it refers to a voluminous flower offering (tamukeshi hana is literally “the flowers [I] have offered”), probably for a person who has just passed away.
2.
The original Japanese does not contain a direct reference to thinking, and the fact that “the butterfly seems to think” is understood from the phrase nanigoto zo, which literally means “what on earth is the matter”. The butterfly goes madly from flower to flower, without understand their meaning or purpose.
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21
I let them pile up, I let them slide down: the fallen leaves on the roof
たまるに任せ落つるに任す屋根落葉
tamaru ni makase otsuru ni makasu yane ochiba
(Takahama Kyoshi 高浜虚子)
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Fallen leaves, ochiba, are a winter season word.
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20
In my water, having fallen from the neighbor’s peach tree—a hairy caterpillar
我水に隣家の桃の毛虫かな
waga mizu ni tonari no momo no kemushi kana
(Buson 蕪村)
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1.
The word peach, momo, can refer to the tree or to its fruit, and is an autumn season word.
2.
The poem depicts a yard, with the phrase “my water” indicating water collected there in some form, such as in a basin or a pond.
3.
The literal phrasing of the original is “the neighbor’s peach’s hairy caterpillar”, and it is left to the reader to fill in the rest of the scene—a branch going over the fence and the caterpillar falling off it into the water, where it now wriggles.
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19
Quiet night; a whistling is fading away, leaving behind it loneliness
静な夜口笛の消え去る淋しさ
shizuka na yo kuchibue no kiesaru samishisa
(Tsuru Akira 鶴彬)
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18
Fire of the gods; a pale-apricot twilight
神の火や薄紅梅の夕まぐれ
kami no ka ya usukōbai no yūmagure
(Masaoka Shiki 正岡子規)
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Pale apricot, usukōbai, is one of the (vast number of) traditional Japanese color names, and is a kind of light pink—see example here. The same word is also a spring season word, since apricot, ume, blossoms in spring. The poem can be understood in two ways: (1) the twilight itself is apricot-colored; (2) the twilight is the backdrop of blossoming apricot trees. For usukōbai to function as a season word, meaning (2) is necessary—so the poem probably refers both to the color of the sky and to the color of actual flowers.
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17
Lying in my bed I listen as it sings of the far-off past: a mosquito
寝て聞けば遠き昔を鳴く蚊かな
nete kikeba tōki mukashi o naku ka kana
(Ozaki Hōsai 尾崎放哉)
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A mosquito, ka, is a season word associated with summer. The scene is probably one where the poet is within a mosquito net (a summer season word in its own right) while the mosquito flies around it trying to find a way in. This type of scene has a long history in Japanese poetry and literature, hence the association with the distant past.
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16
Burning my diary; how come it leaves so little ash
焼き捨てゝ日記の灰のこれだけか
yakisutete nikki no hai no kore dake ka
(Santōka 山頭火)
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15
The year on its way out; as a memento we stay behind—my wife and I
行年やかたみに留守の妻と我
yuku toshi ya katami ni rusu no tsuma to ware
(Takahama Kyoshi 高浜虚子)
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14
Other than the woodcutter there’s nobody here; late-blooming cherries
木樵より他に人なし遅桜
kikori yori hoka ni hito nashi osozakura
(Ichihara Tayo 市原多代)
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1.
Osozakura are cherry trees that, for whatever reason, blossom later than the usual time. This also means that by then the flower-watching crowds are no longer around.
2.
Ichihara Tayo (1776–1865), also known as Tayojo (多代女), was a female poet who lived in the late Edo period. Widowed in 1806 at the age of 30, she became a haiku poet while raising three children.