The commentary on this haiku really guides the reading and insight into Issa’s haiku. Otherwise, it might be read (as I first read it) as three independent lines. I wonder if a contemporary haiku poet might render a similar moment as “rough sake / the cuckoo / in this grove” so that the fragment and contrasting phrase are more clearly delineated. Issa’s poem reveals a sudden breath-catch of wonderment or a raw nature-inspired intoxication. I’m inspired to re-read more of Issa and the other haiku masters with a new appreciation of how the 3-element poem works to reveal a common thread. Thank you, Keith Evetts!
Good! I find it very illuminating to study the old haiku greats.
I don’t think the contemporary haiku poet’s version would quite match up to Issa’s less smooth version. It goes with the rough sake! Can’t you just picture a slightly tipsy Issa, his senses thus elevated: “Just taste. This sake!” “Just hear!” (gestures with upwards sweep) “This cuckoo!” “Just see!” (gestures with expansive horiozontal sweep) “This grove”
And thank you.
悪酒やæ¤æ™‚é³¥æ¤æœ¨ç«‹ waru-zake ya kono hototogisu kono kodachi
rough sake this cuckoo this grove
Three noun elements again, in essence a three-part haiku in which two elements are naturally related. The hototogisu (cuckoo, the sweet-sounding nightingale-equivalent rather than our onomatopeic ‘cuck-oo’), and the grove, are separate but related things. At first sight, the other separate element, the rough or cheap sake (after which comes the cutting-word “ya”), is simply contrasted with them in juxtaposition. The rough human-made sake (Lanoue renders it as cheap sake) is not only contrasted with the natural beauties of the bird and the grove: it is linked with them. It intensifies them. The common thread linking the three elements thus arranged is: intoxication. And that is the moment of awareness. By using ‘kono’—this—Issa has chosen to emphasis this cuckoo, this grove with which he is intoxicated: the present instances of all cuckoos, all groves.
A search of David Lanoue’s translations of over half of Issa’s output reveals no less than 152 haiku about sake. Admittedly only 1.1% of the verses in that database, but nevertheless, quite a lot for a Buddhist. Which among many self-admitted flaws makes Issa endearingly human, a fellow sinner, not an irreproachable saint.
The commentary on this haiku really guides the reading and insight into Issa’s haiku. Otherwise, it might be read (as I first read it) as three independent lines. I wonder if a contemporary haiku poet might render a similar moment as “rough sake / the cuckoo / in this grove” so that the fragment and contrasting phrase are more clearly delineated. Issa’s poem reveals a sudden breath-catch of wonderment or a raw nature-inspired intoxication. I’m inspired to re-read more of Issa and the other haiku masters with a new appreciation of how the 3-element poem works to reveal a common thread. Thank you, Keith Evetts!
Good! I find it very illuminating to study the old haiku greats.
I don’t think the contemporary haiku poet’s version would quite match up to Issa’s less smooth version. It goes with the rough sake! Can’t you just picture a slightly tipsy Issa, his senses thus elevated: “Just taste. This sake!” “Just hear!” (gestures with upwards sweep) “This cuckoo!” “Just see!” (gestures with expansive horiozontal sweep) “This grove”
And thank you.
悪酒やæ¤æ™‚é³¥æ¤æœ¨ç«‹
waru-zake ya kono hototogisu kono kodachi
rough sake
this cuckoo
this grove
Three noun elements again, in essence a three-part haiku in which two elements are naturally related. The hototogisu (cuckoo, the sweet-sounding nightingale-equivalent rather than our onomatopeic ‘cuck-oo’), and the grove, are separate but related things. At first sight, the other separate element, the rough or cheap sake (after which comes the cutting-word “ya”), is simply contrasted with them in juxtaposition. The rough human-made sake (Lanoue renders it as cheap sake) is not only contrasted with the natural beauties of the bird and the grove: it is linked with them. It intensifies them. The common thread linking the three elements thus arranged is: intoxication. And that is the moment of awareness. By using ‘kono’—this—Issa has chosen to emphasis this cuckoo, this grove with which he is intoxicated: the present instances of all cuckoos, all groves.
A search of David Lanoue’s translations of over half of Issa’s output reveals no less than 152 haiku about sake. Admittedly only 1.1% of the verses in that database, but nevertheless, quite a lot for a Buddhist. Which among many self-admitted flaws makes Issa endearingly human, a fellow sinner, not an irreproachable saint.