The Zen of Haiku

The Zen of Haiku
by Jordan Kasko

“Haikus are easy
But sometimes they don’t make sense
Refrigerator”
-haiku from threadless.com t-shirt

I have known the basic definition of a haiku since I can remember. In its simplest form, it is a good version of poetry for kids to read or write. It consists of three lines: the first contains five syllables, the second seven, and the third five again. A haiku does not need to rhyme, nor does it require punctuation or any sense of strict grammatical structure. That was all I knew about haiku. But if one paragraph would suffice to describe this form of Japanese poetry, it would not be a good subject for an inquisitive paper.

Though I cannot read Japanese, I thought knowing the kanji for the word would help so I could begin to immerse myself in this noble form of poetry. The word haiku (俳句) has only been around since the end of the 19th century, but it has a grand ancestry dating back more than a thousand years (Society). It originated in a Japanese poetic form called the tanka (Society), which used a set system of on and/or ji, similar to syllables in English, as the primary organization for the poetry. In Japanese, on means “sound” and ji means “character.” Either term, the combination onji, or the word mora represent the Japanese equivalent of the syllable. As Dr. Gilbert explains, “English speakers divide words into syllables while Japanese speakers divide words into morae. Due to this difference, a native speaker of English divides 'London' into two syllables, while a native speaker of Japanese considers the word as consisting of four morae. [lo/n/do/n] . . . Mora is considered as a timing unit, especially within the larger context of words” (Gilbert). On-setsu, on the other hand, is the Japanese term for the English syllable, of which modern English haiku are composed (Gilbert). Because each separate sound is an onji in Japanese, original haiku are much shorter than American haikus, which use American syllables and thus can be comprised of more words.

With a pattern of 5-7-5-7-7 onji per line, the tanka, or “short renga,” evolved into the primary form of Japanese poetry somewhere between the 9th and 12th centuries C.E. The beginning 5-7-5 unit of the tanka is called the maeku, and was frequently the beginning of a “call and answer” type of poetry, with the first person writing the maeku and the second responding with the 7-7 part of the tanka, called a tsukeku (literally, “added verse”). These short renga “touched on religious or courtly themes, and were often grouped together in large chains called ‘chōrenga’” (Wikipedia). Multiple authors would frequently contribute to one chōrenga, each composing several tanka (Society). In early times, the long renga sometimes reached 100, 1000, or even 10,000 links. It went through several adaptations and sets of rules, and one popular form that evolved was the haikai no renga or simply haikai (俳諧の連歌), a form utilizing humor and wit (Renga). The first passage of the renga developed increasing importance, as it set the stage for the rest of the poem, and was called a hokku. Late 17th-century poet haikai poet Matsuo Bashō, recognized as one of the greatest Japanese poets, popularized the haikai form and his hokku were the forerunners of the modern haiku. In the latter half of the 19th century, the poet Masaoka Shiki officially separated the hokku from the tanka and a new form of poetry, the haiku, was born (Society).

Having finished a summary of the history of the haiku, enough for a basic understanding of its roots, I decided to turn my attention to the poetic devices used in haiku, the subject matter, and other details of the poems themselves. Upon finding whole books dedicated to these subjects, however, I realized that any information I can fit into a term paper will be wanting in substance because of necessary brevity. One might presume that a three-line poem takes hardly any forethought and no time to write; one would be wrong. If the poetry of haiku were the Earth, understanding the form and the history would barely delve into the topsoil, much less reach the mantle. In fact, the Japanese say that it takes 20 years to be able to write haiku or renga with ease (Finlay). My intention of writing some haiku for an addition to the appendix of this paper now seems futile. Reading the “Haiku Guidelines” section of Finlay’s book, I started to understand the state of mind and spirituality of haiku poets. The guidelines included, “haiku arises out of unguardedness, occurring when the writer is least identified with the idea of being a poet,” “haiku should follow their readers rather than lead them,” “a haiku should convey atmosphere and depth without being overtly philosophical or sentimental,” and “the best haiku hint at something beyond” (Finlay).

“Haiku,” R.H. Blyth says, “are to be understood from the Zen point of view.” Zen, in his book, is defined as a state of mind based upon thirteen qualities, including selflessness, graceful acceptance, wordlessness, simplicity, courage, and love. Blyth’s books on haiku were some of the first Western books that delved deeply into the subject, and many Japanese and English writers have agreed with his evaluations. Daisetz Suzuki, a Japanese writer, added the idea that in addition to Zen, “a haiku does not express ideas but…puts forward images reflecting intuitions” (Sato). Blyth further calls haiku a state of “temporary enlightenment.” I am beginning to understand how Zen poetry is so different from Western poetry. If I want to write a sonnet, I take out my rhyming dictionary, invent a subject (usually love), and begin to write in iambic pentameter. If I want to write a haiku, however, I must open myself to the world, forget that I am a writer, become one with nature, and still retain the presence of mind to scribble a few noble lines.

Setting aside the spirituality of Zen for a moment, there are certain poetic techniques that are commonly found in haiku. Humor and puns, for example, are everpresent, despite the seriousness of the style of poetry. “Brevity,” Blyth says, “is called the soul of wit.” Haiku concentrate on quality rather than quantity. Onomatopoeia is frequent in both original Japanese haiku and English haiku; not only does the imitation of sound correspond with writing in communion with nature, but Japanese is the most onomatopoeic language (Blyth). Personally, I noticed through reading hundreds of haiku that parataxis was the most common poetic device used. “Tension and contrast between images,” says Finlay, are necessary ingredients. In fact, many of the haiku that I read are two juxtaposed images that feed off of each other. The poet Baiko’s “death poem,” an type of haiku that is usually written as close as possible to death, says, “Plum petals falling/ I look up--the sky,/ a clear crisp moon.” Plum petals would not usually be placed so closely to a clear evening, but “death poems” are frequently centered on the day or time of year that the poet died, and Baiko died in February (Hoffmann). The beautiful night sky set next to the petals falling from a flower creates an otherworldly image, unique to haiku. The wording is simple, lacking flowery terms or complex metaphors that might distract the reader from the natural meaning of the objects or beings in the poem. This strategy is almost nonexistent in Western literature (Missias).

Nature, as I have explained already, plays a major role in the Zen of Japanese poetry. One aspect of the natural world, though, is the primary theme of traditional haiku: the seasons. Before modern times, all haiku were organized into categories based upon the five Japanese seasons of spring, summer, autumn, winter, and the new year. In ancient haiku, there is almost always a “season word” in the poem; if the word is not a direct mention of the season, it is an idea or noun that can be identified with a certain time of year. These “orientation words,” so called because they place the poem in what are almost separate Japanese genres, usually concern the sky, elements, geography, temples, animals, or plants. Modern haiku, particularly English haiku, do not always have this important connection with nature (Blyth). Our words for certain animals or aspects of nature do not necessarily correspond with certain seasons like the Japanese ones do (Missias). When Issa, one of the most famous haiku poets, says, “A night boat/ Sails away/ Illuminated by a wildfire,” we know he speaks of spring, for what other season would contain a “night boat”? When Kubota Mantarō writes, “What a cooling sight--/ To see a young maid/ Tying up her narrow sash,” we know it is cooling because it is summer. Lastly, it could be no season but winter when Katō Kōko sees, “Through the branches of a tree/ Utterly leafless/ The sky deepens” (Miura).

Perhaps the most famous haiku ever, and Japan’s most popular poem, is Matsuo Bashō’s frog poem (Bashō). (古池や 蛙飛びこむ 水の音) in kanji, “Furuike ya/ kawazu tobikomu/ mizu no oto” in romaji (the language of Japan in the Western alphabet), or “An old pond:/ a frog jumps in--/ the sound of water” in plain English. This is merely one interpretation; there are one hundred different translations in Sato’s “One Hundred Frogs,” alone (a select few can be found in the appendix). Some follow the Western 5-7-5-syllable haiku, some aim for a strict translation, and some are creative in their own right. The poem is deceptively simple. In haiku, every word means something; an “old pond” is completely different from a “pond,” and a “the sound of water” is nowhere near the same thing as “splash” - which would have been onomatopoeia had it been included. In fact, some translations of “the frog poem” do use onomatopoeic words, but many of these are because of liberties taken by the translator (Sato). On an objective level, I notice a controlling noun in each line: “pond,” “frog,” and “water.” The poem is both visual and aural, as we see the frog jump in and we hear the splash. The scene is set by the pond and the frog; the latter suggests it is near twilight in warm weather, for that is when frogs venture out. Subjectively, I identify this with a backyard, a lily pad, and a spring of such Zen that the simple action of a frog leaping into the pond is noticeable and seems to represent the serenity of a balanced life. On an informed level, little is known about the writing of this particular haiku, but Matsuo Bashō lived from 1644 to 1694 and his most frequent subject was spring (Bashō). The “frog poem” was written in 1686, and evidently became immediately popular after it was published in 1688 (Ueda).

One of the translations listed in the appendix is Allen Ginsberg’s. Modernist poets and particularly the beat writers were strongly influenced by haiku. The first appearance of its imprint on Western culture was through the Imagist poets in the early 20th century (Wikipedia). Ezra Pound’s two-line poem “In a Station of the Metro,” in particular, showcases strong haiku influences, containing the parataxis of representative images, a certain spirituality, and the brevity which is more important to haiku than the exact 5-7-5 syllable count. The traditional Japanese form reappears decades later at the inception of the beat movement. Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, and Gary Snyder all were influenced by R.H. Blyth’s 1949 books on haiku, two of which I was able to find in the library on campus and use as sources. Ginsberg published haiku throughout his career, Snyder was given an international award for his contribution to worldwide understanding of haiku, and Kerouac wrote a few books in the style. Kerouac also promoted the idea that a Western haiku need not depend upon a specific syllable count (withwords). Because our syllables are so different from the Japanese onji, a 5-7-5 poem is arguably untrue to the original style. The root of a haiku is not in the structure, but in the soul of the poem and the idea behind it. Kerouac suggested that three short lines be used, but beyond that, the poem be left up to the creative control of the writer (withwords). Modern haiku sometimes use the 5-7-5 syllable count, but more often than not they simply utilize the root idea of the poem.

“Haiku,” as Missias says, “is a way of seeing the world.” This idea has captured the Western imagination, jaded with the outbreak of trite and meaningless poetry like the Genteel poetry of the late-19th and early-20th centuries. The outbreak of haiku followed directly in the footsteps of the Transcendentalists, like Thoreau and Whitman, who advocated a state of mind similar to Zen. The popularity of haiku may have also gained momentum after World War II because of an American cultural enchantment with Japan. In 1963, American Haiku, the first magazine devoted entirely to English-language haiku, was published in Platteville, Wisconsin. By the 1970s, haiku looked to have left a lasting influence on modern English poetry. In fact, it is possible that the haiku is the most widespread specific form of poetry still in usage as of the 21st century (Swede).

Bringing my brief study of haiku to current times, I will halt it. There are many long tomes on the subject, monthly and annual magazines in publication, and a never-ending supply of poetry to read. I may only have grazed the surface of the style, but I learned much about the history behind the haiku, the techniques used, the connection with Zen, and the adaptation into modern English literature. All information aside, though, I would like to claim that the most interesting and important part of my research on haiku was the sheer amount of poetry I read. I found poems (the best of which I included in the appendix) that spoke to my soul and that I will probably mutter at inopportune moments in the future, causing passers-by to think me schizophrenic. To analyze poetry is educational, to derive from it influences that will affect my writing is helpful, but simply to find and read new and amazing poems is transcendent.

Appendix: Assorted Haiku

Along this road
Goes no one,
This autumn eve.
-Matsuo Bashō

Should I take it in my hand,
it would disappear with my hot tears,
like the frost of autumn.
-Matsuo Bashō

Not this human sadness,
cuckoo,
but your solitary cry.
-Matsuo Bashō

World like a dewdrop
though it's only a dewdrop
even so, even so.
-Kobayashi Issa

No sign
in the cicada’s song
that it will soon be gone
-Aki-no-Bo

People, when you see the smoke,
do not think
it is fields they’re burning
-Baika

A short night
wakes me from a dream
that seemed so long
-Yuyu

O snail
Climb Mount Fuji,
But slowly, slowly!
-Kobayashi Issa

Snow in my shoe
Abandoned
Sparrow's nest
-Jack Kerouac

A bitter morning:
Sparrows sitting together
Without any necks.
-James W. Hackett

Over the wintry
forest, winds howl in rage
with no leaves to blow.
-Natsume Soseki

Some translations of Bashō’s “frog poem”:

The old pond,
A frog jumps in:
Plop!
-Translated by Alan Watts

Listen! a frog
Jumping into the stillness
Of an ancient pond!
-Translated by Dorothy Britton

The old pond
A frog jumped in,
Kerplunk!
-Translated by Allen Ginsberg

pond
frog
plop!
-Translated by James Kirkup

There once was a curious frog
Who sat by a pond on a log
And, to see what resulted,
In the pond catapulted
With a water-noise heard round the bog.
-Translated by Alfred H. Marks


Bibliography:

Blyth, R.H. “Haiku, Volume One: Eastern Culture.” Tokyo: The Hokuseido Press, 1949.

Blyth, R.H. “Haiku, Volume Two: Spring.” Tokyo: The Hokuseido Press, 1949.

“Book of Haikus by Jack Kerouac.” haikuworld.org. 27 April 2008.
http://www.haikuworld.org/books/kerouac.html

Finlay, Alec. “Verse Chain: Sharing Haiku and Renga.” Edinborough: Morning Star Publications, 2003.

Gilbert, Richard. “Stalking the Wild Onji: The Search for Current Linguistic Terms Used in Japanese Poetry Circles.” ahapoetry.com. 22 April 2008. http://www.ahapoetry.com/wildonji.htm

“Haiku.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia. 22 April 2008.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haiku

“History of Haiku.” Haiku Society: Haikus and Haiku Information. 22 April 2008.
http://www.haikusociety.com/historyofhaiku/

Hoffmann, Yoel, ed. “Japanese Death Poems.” Rutland, VT: Charles E. Tuttle Publishing Co., Inc, 1986.

King, Dan. “Japanese Literature Second Midterm.” danking.org. 27 April 2008.
http://www.danking.org/evergreen/Fall_2002/JapaneseLit/basho.html

“Matsuo Bashō: Frog Haiku.” Bureau of Public Secrets. 26 April 2008.
http://www.bopsecrets-org.pem.data393.net/gateway/passages/basho-frog.htm

Missias, A.C. “Contemporary Haiku: Origins and New Directions.” webdelsol.com. 25 April 2008. http://webdelsol.com/Perihelion/acmarticle.htm

Miura, Yuzuru, tr. “Classic Haiku: A Master’s Selection.” Rutland, VT: Charles E. Tuttle Publishing Co., Inc, 1991.

“Renga: Encyclopedia II - Renga - History.” The Global Oneness Commitment. 23 April 2008.
http://www.experiencefestival.com/a/Renga_-_History/id/4707327

Sato, Hiroaki. “One Hundred Frogs: From Renga to Haiku to English.” New York: Weatherhill, 1983.

Swede, George. “Haiku in English in North America.” Haiku Canada Newsletter, vol. 10, no. 2, January 1997 and vol. 10, no. 3, March 1997. 27 April 2008.
http://raysweb.net/fall-haiku/pages/swede.html

Ueda, Makoto. “Matsuo Bashō.” Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1982.
“A very brief history of the english language haiku.” withwords.co.uk. 27 April 2008.
http://www.withwords.co.uk/history.html


~04/29/08