The HyperTexts
Death Haiku Translations
These are my modern English translations of jisei
or Japanese death poems. Many such poems fall into a category called Zen Death
Haiku. However, not all the poems here are haiku: some are tanka or waka. And not all
the poems have to do with Zen as I apprehend it: some of the poets seem to be
seeking enlightenment and a few, perhaps, to have found it, while others seem
more agnostic and doubtful of the possibility. What the poets have in
common, I believe, is the ability to
communicate aspects of what we call the "human condition" in sometimes stunning poetry of just a few lines.
A good number of these poems are widely considered to be the final statements on
life and death by poets facing their final days here on earth. Where a poem is
commonly believed to be such a final statement, I have used the terms jisei
and death poem. The other poems are related to death, in my opinion, but do not
seem to be such final statements. However, this is not an exact science, and
what really matters are the poems and what they mean to you, the reader. Some of
my favorite poems here are not final statements and they may touch on death less
directly. For instance ...
The first soft snow:
leaves of the awed jonquil
bow low
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I consider Matsuo Basho to be one of the world's greatest poets and this is one
of my favorite poems of his. The poem can be interpreted many different ways and
none of those interpretations is necessarily "wrong." My personal interpretation
is that there is a note of reverence here. I see the jonquils bowing their heads
and folding their leaves as if in prayer. What has awed them? Is it the power of
nature and the snow to determine whether they live or die? Or are they happy,
perhaps, to be done with their roles here on earth? Do they bless and revere the
snow? Some human beings long to escape life but would prefer to end it without
suffering. Might they bless a merciful euthanasiaist? In any case, I think it's
a wonderful poem and I hope you agree.
You are welcome to share the translations on this page for noncommercial
purposes as long as you
credit the original poet and translator. You can do that easily by cutting and
pasting the poem with the credit line immediately below the poem. For
explanations of how he translates and why he calls his results "loose
translations" and "interpretations" please click here:
Michael R. Burch Translation
Methods and Credits to Other Translators
What are haiku? In Japanese hai means "unusual" and ku
means "verse" or "strophe." So haiku are, literally, unusual verses. Sir George Sansom called haiku
"little drops of poetic essence." Harold Henderson called them "meditations."
I think of haiku as evocative snapshots constructed of words: the flash
photography of literature. Another useful definition might be "transcendent
images." I have also heard haiku called "zen snapshots." For example:
Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt.
―Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In the poem above, wilting autumn grasses and a braking locomotive grinding to a
halt are metaphors for time, aging and the approach of death. Two simple images
speak worlds, in the hands of a skilled poet like Yamaguchi Seishi.
Petals I amass
with such tenderness
prick me to the quick.
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Both victor and vanquished are
dewdrops:
flashes of light
briefly illuminating the void.
—Ouchi Yoshitaka, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
This world—to what may we compare it?
To autumn fields darkening at dusk,
dimly lit by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Like a lotus leaf’s evaporating dew,
I, too ...
vanish.
—Senryu (-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Oh, fallen camellias,
if I were you,
I'd leap into the torrent!
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
August weeds?
The only remains
of warriors' ambitions ...
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A single leaf
of paulownia falling
reflects the sun.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Farewell! I pass
as all things do:
dew drying on grass.
—Banzan (-1730), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
nightfall
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Matsuo Basho, Yosa Buson and Kobayashi Issa have
been called the "essential masters" of the Edo Era poets. Many haiku lovers would
add Masaoka Shiki to create the "Great Four" of haiku. You can
find some of their very best poems on this page, in accessible modern English translations.
This page includes haiku and haiku-like poems written by poets such as Patrick Blanche, Nozawa Bonchō, Jorge Luis Borges, Fukuda Chiyo-ni, Miura Chora, Sekitei Hara, Kosugi Isshō,
Takahama Kyoshi, Michael McClintock, Arakida Moritake, Kyorai Mukai,
Ippekiro Nakatsuka, Naojo, Plato, Li Po, Ezra Pound, Ranko, Hattori Ransetsu, Roka, Ryokan, Sappho, Yamaguchi
Seishi, Shohaku, Takaha Shugyo, Ilio Sōgi, Yamazaki Sōkan, Natsume Sôseki, Hisajo Sugita, Kyoshi Takahama, Inahata Teiko, Richard Wright and Ō no Yasumaro.
Traditional Japanese haiku have three lines with
moras (syllable counts) of 5-7-5. However, because the meter of the
moras does not translate into English, the 5-7-5 pattern is not a hard-and-fast rule
for English language haiku. Therefore, in my translations I have elected to use as many syllables as seemed necessary to convey
the images, feelings and meanings of the poems, as I "grok" them.
Please note that I call my translations "loose translations" and
"interpretations" because they are not literal word-for-word translations.
I begin with my personal interpretation of a poem and
translate accordingly. To critics who object to variations from the original
texts, my response is that there are often substantial disagreements among even
the most accomplished translators. Variations begin with the
readings because different people get different things from
different poems. And a strict word-for-word translation will seldom, if ever,
result in poetry. In my opinion translation is much closer to an art than a
perfect science and I side with Rabindranath Tagore, who said he needed some
leeway in order to produce poetry in another language when he translated his own
poems into English.
Please keep in mind that this page reflects one person's opinions, for whatever
they're worth, but it never hurts to compare notes ...
The Influence of Haiku on Modern English Poetry
The influence of haiku on modern English poetry is both obvious and
pronounced. Indeed, certain precepts of Imagism clearly relate
more or less directly to haiku, such as the use of concrete imagery and "direct
treatment of the thing (object/subject)." Ezra Pound, the father and leading
proponent of Imagism, translated Oriental poetry and wrote similar original poems
himself. Here is one of Pound's more haiku-like poems, "In a Station of the Metro":
The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.
Well-known modern poems that bear marked resemblances
to haiku include "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams and
"Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" by Wallace Stevens. Other English
language poets who either wrote, translated or were influenced by haiku
include Richard Wright, Allen Ginsberg, Langston Hughes, Gary Snyder, Jack Kerouac, Amy Lowell,
Kenneth Rexroth, Margaret Atwood, Robert Hass, Paul Muldoon, Charles Reznikoff and Cid Corman. Oriental
influences have also been noted in the writings of early modernists like Walt
Whitman, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau.
The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.
—Langston Hughes "Suicide’s Note"
The spring lingers on
In the scent of a damp log
Rotting in the sun.
—Richard Wright
Elderly sunflowers:
bees trimming their beards.
—Michael R. Burch
A Brief History and Chronology of Japanese Death Poetry
These are my translations of some of the oldest Japanese
waka, which evolved into poetic forms such as tanka, renga and
haiku over time. Some of my translations are excerpts from the Kojiki
(the "Record of Ancient Matters"), a book composed around 711-712 A.D. by the
historian and poet Ō no Yasumaro. The Kojiki relates Japan’s mythological beginnings and the
history of its imperial line. Like Virgil's Aeneid, the
Kojiki seeks to legitimize rulers by recounting their roots. These are
lines from one of the oldest Japanese poems, found in the oldest Japanese book:
While you decline to cry,
high on the mountainside
a single stalk of plumegrass wilts.
―Ō no Yasumaro (circa 711), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
However, this poem may be older:
Today, catching sight of the mallards
crying over Lake Iware:
Must I too vanish into the clouds?
—Prince Otsu (663-686), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
I find it of interest that around this time, ancient Greek epigrams with
a "family resemblance" were being written by poets like Sappho. I touch on this
family resemblance later on this page ...
This world—to what may we compare it?
To autumn fields darkening at dusk,
dimly lit by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago (911-983), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
This world—to what may we liken it?
To autumn fields lit dimly at dusk,
briefly
illuminated by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago (911-983), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Like a half-exposed rotten log
my life, which never flowered,
ends barren.
—Minamoto Yorimasa (1104-1180), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Let me die in spring
beneath the cherry blossoms
while the moon is full.
—Saigyo (1118-1190), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
The night is clear;
the moon shines quietly;
the wind strums the trees like lyres ...
but when I’m gone, who the hell will hear?
Farewell!
—Higan Choro aka Zoso Royo (1194-1277), loose translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
I entered the world empty-handed
and leave it barefoot.
My coming and going?
Two uncomplicated events
that became entangled.
—Kozan Ichikyo (1283-1360), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is no death, as there is no life.
Are not the skies cloudless
And the rivers clear?
—Taiheiki Toshimoto (-1332), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
All five aspects of my fleeting human form
And the four elements of existence add up to nothing:
I bare my neck to the unsheathed sword
And its blow is but a breath of wind ...
—Suketomo (1290-1332), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Had I not known
I was already dead
I might have mourned
my own passing.
—Ota Dokan (1432-1486), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Both victor and vanquished are
dewdrops:
flashes of light
briefly illuminating the void.
—Ouchi Yoshitaka, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Both victor and vanquished are
dewdrops
in which lightning
flashes
briefly illuminate the void.
—Ôuchi Yoshitaka (1507-1551), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Even a life of long prosperity is like a single cup of sake:
my life of forty-nine years flashed by like a dream.
—Uesugi Kenshin (1530-1578), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
My life appeared like dew
and disappears like dew.
All Naniwa was a series of dreams.
—Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536-1598), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
My life was mere lunacy
until
the moon shone tonight.
Tokugen (1558-1647), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Brittle autumn leaves
crumble to dust
in the bittercold wind.
—Takao (?-1660), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Felt deeply in my heart:
How beautiful the snow,
Clouds gathering in the west.
—Issho (-1668), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
This frigid season
nothing but the shadow
of my corpse survives.
—Tadatomo (1624-1676), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The hushed sound
of the scarecrow falling
gently to the ground!
―Nozawa Bonchō (1640-1714), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
NOTE: In some haiku/tanka circles it is considered a capital crime to employ
traditional English meter and/or rhyme. But poets around the world have
been borrowing from each other since the dawn of literature! I happen to like
this translation myself, and I hope you do too.
When no wind at all
ruffles the Kiri tree
leaves fall of their own will.
―Nozawa Bonchō (1640-1714), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter in the air:
my neighbor,
how does he fare?
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, investigate loneliness:
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The cheerful-chirping cricket
contends gray autumn's gay,
contemptuous of frost
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
autumn twilight
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
NOTE: There has been a debate about the meaning of aki-no kure, which
may mean one of the following: autumn evening, autumn dusk, the end of autumn.
Or it seems possible that Basho may have intentionally invoked the ideas of both
the end of an autumn day and the end of the season as well. In my translation I
have tried to create an image of solitary crow clinging to a branch that seems
like a harbinger of approaching winter and death.
Winter solitude:
a world awash in white,
the sound of the wind
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The sun sets,
relentlessly red,
yet autumn’s in the wind.
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As autumn draws near,
so too our hearts
in this small tea room.
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Nothing happened!
Yesterday simply vanished
like the blowfish soup.
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The surging sea crests around Sado ...
and above her?
An ocean of stars.
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Nothing in the cry
of the cicadas
suggests they soon must die.
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I wish I could wash
this perishing earth
in its shimmering dew.
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
That dying cricket,
how he does go on about life!
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fever-felled mid-path
my dreams resurrect, to trek
through a hollow land
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Will we remain parted forever?
Here at your grave:
two flowerlike butterflies!
—Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These wilting weeds?
The only remains
of warriors' ambitions ...
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Curious flower,
watching us approach:
meet Death, our famished donkey.
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sick of its autumn migration
my spirit drifts
over wilted fields ...
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), said to be his
jisei (death poem), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sick of this autumn migration
in dreams I drift
over flowerless fields ...
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), said to be his
jisei (death poem), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
NOTE: While literalists will no doubt object to "flowerless" in the translation
above ― along with other word choices in my other translations ― this is my
preferred version. I think Basho's meaning still comes through. But "wilted" is
probably closer to what he meant. If only we could consult him, to ask whether
he preferred strictly literal prose translations of his poems, or more poetic
interpretations! My guess is that most poets would prefer for their poems to
remain poetry in the second language. In my opinion the differences are minor
and astute readers will grok both Basho's meaning and his emotion.
While nobody's watching
the pepper pods redden.
―Kyorai Mukai (1651-1704), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My eyes,
having observed all sums,
returned to the white chrysanthemums.
―Kosugi Isshō (1652-1688), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The childless woman,
how
tenderly she caresses
homeless dolls ...
—Hattori Ransetsu (1654-1707), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Clinging
to the plum tree:
one blossom's worth of warmth
—Hattori Ransetsu (1654-1707), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One leaf falls, enlightenment!
Another leaf falls,
swept away by the wind ...
—Hattori Ransetsu (1654-1707), said to be her
jisei (death poem), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This has been called Ransetsu’s “death poem.” In The Classic Tradition of
Haiku, Faubion Bowers says in a footnote to this haiku: “Just as ‘blossom’,
when not modified, means ‘cherry flower’ in haiku, ‘one leaf’ is code for ‘kiri’.
Kiri ... is the Pawlonia ... The leaves drop throughout the year. They shrivel,
turn yellow, and yield to gravity. Their falling symbolizes loneliness and
connotes the past. The large purple flowers ... are deeply associated with haiku
because the three prongs hold 5, 7 and 5 buds ... ‘Totsu’ is an exclamation
supposedly uttered when a Zen student achieves enlightenment. The sound also
imitates the dry crackle the pawlonia leaf makes as it scratches the ground upon
falling.”
Disdaining grass,
the firefly nibbles nettles—
this is who I am.
—Takarai Kikaku (1661-1707), loose translation/interpretation by
Michael R. Burch
These useless dreams, alas!
Over fields of wilted grass
winds whisper as they pass.
―Uejima Onitsura (1661-1738), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Observe:
see how the wild violets bloom
within the forbidden fences!
―Shida Yaba (1663-1740), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A white swan
parts the cherry-petalled pond
with her motionless breast.
―Roka (1671-1703), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
NOTE: Roka became a pupil of Basho
and studied haiku with him in 1694; that would have been in the last year of Basho's
life.
Brittle cicada shell,
little did I know
you were my life!
—Shuho (?-1767), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ah butterfly,
what dreams do you ply
with your beautiful wings?
―Fukuda Chiyo-ni (1703-1775), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Leaves,
like the shadows of crows
cast by a lonely moon.
―Fukuda Chiyo-ni (1703-1775), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A kite floats
at the same place in the sky
where yesterday it floated ...
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Don’t worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.
―Yosa
Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Robert Hass
White plum blossoms―
though the hour grows late,
a glimpse of dawn
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch;
this is believed to be Buson's
jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn
Even lonelier than last year:
this autumn evening.
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My thoughts return to my Mother and Father:
late autumn
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All evening the softest sound―
the cadence of the white camellia petals
falling
―Ranko Takakuwa (1726-1798), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stillness:
the sound of petals
drifting down softly together ...
―Miura Chora (1729-1780), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Climb Mount Fuji,
O snail,
but slowly, slowly.
―Kobayashi Issa
(1763-1827), translator unknown
I toss in my sleep,
so watch out,
cricket!
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
While a cicada
sings softly
a single leaf falls ...
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All the while I'm praying to Buddha
I'm continually killing mosquitoes.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This windy nest?
Open your hungry mouth in vain,
Issa, orphaned sparrow!
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
It's not at all anxious to bloom,
the plum tree at my gate.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This world of dew
is a world of dew indeed;
and yet ...
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dew evaporates
and all our world is dew—
so dear, so fresh, so fleeting.
―Kobayashi Issa
(1763-1827), said to be about the death of his child, translator unknown
Don't weep, we are all insects!
Lovers, even the stars themselves,
must eventually part.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In our world
we walk suspended over hell
admiring flowers.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Standing unsteadily,
I am the scarecrow’s
skinny surrogate
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Autumn wind ...
She always wanted to pluck
the reddest roses
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Issa wrote the haiku above after the death of his daughter Sato with the note:
“Sato, girl, 35th day, at the grave.”
What does it matter how long I live,
when a tortoise lives many times as long?
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bonfires for the dead—
soon they'll light the pyres
for us.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Children delight
in bonfires
for the dead;
soon they'll light
the pyres
for us.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The autumn wind eludes me;
for me there are no gods,
no Buddhas
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
After killing a spider,
how lonely I felt
in the frigid night.
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I'm trying to sleep!
Please swat the flies
lightly
―Masaoka Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The night flies!
My life,
how much more of it remains?
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
After the fireworks,
the spectators departed:
how vast and dark the sky!
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The first morning of autumn:
the mirror I investigate
reflects my father’s face
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Meanwhile, half a world away ...
Late afternoon's dying echoes ...
something the mountains intimated
repealed.
―Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now nothing remains
of a night so vast
but its lingering fragrance.
―Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A man lies dead there,
yet his nails, beard and hair
continue to grow, unaware.
―Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This empty hand
once smoothed your hair.
―Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The light that winked out—
was it a distant empire
or just a firefly?
―Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
when you opened
my letter
were you surprised
my heart
fell out?
next door
the lovemaking
subsides
stars fall
from other worlds
an old photo
of my parents
young and happy—
of all the things I own
that is the saddest
The three poems above are by
Michael Windsor McClintock, a contemporary American poet. In the late 1960s he
was the Assistant Editor of Haiku Highlights. During the 1970s he was the
Assistant Editor of Modern Haiku and also edited the American Haiku Poets Series
and Seer Ox: American Senryu Magazine. I think his poems demonstrate
how much emotion a simple, clear image can convey: a letter being opened, a star
falling, a photo of loved ones touching our hearts. I think the ancient
masters would applaud such poems.
One apple, alone
In the abandoned orchard
reddens for winter
―Patrick Blanche, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The poem above is by a French poet; it illustrates how the poetry of Oriental
masters like Basho has influenced poets around the world.
Ancient Greek epigrams can bear a family resemblance to Oriental poetry ...
Does my soul abide in heaven, or hell?
Only the sea gull
in his high, lonely circuits, may tell.
―Michael R. Burch,
after Glaucus
Here's another Greek epitaph (a form of epigram) that matches the best haiku in
simplicity, honesty, clarity and forthrightness:
Mariner, do not ask whose tomb this may be,
but go with good fortune: I wish you a kinder sea.
―Michael R. Burch, after Plato
Here's another:
These men earned a crown of imperishable glory,
Nor did the maelstrom of death obscure their story.
―Michael R. Burch, after Simonides
And another:
Sappho, fragment 52 (Lobel-Page 52 / Cox 35)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
With my two small arms,
how can I
think to encircle the sky?
Okay, back to the Orient ...
Our life here on earth:
to what shall we compare it?
It is not like a rowboat
departing at daybreak,
leaving no trace of us in its wake?
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The poem above is a tanka, another oriental poetic form. It speaks of the human
condition: how many people die every day leaving no "wake"? For every
Shakespeare there are a billion seeming non-entities, at least in terms of the
world's direct remembrance. The best poets are truth-tellers. Unlike the
witchdoctors and priests of many religions, they give readers the unadulterated truth,
as they perceive it.
Hisajo Sugita was an innovative and influential female poet:
How deep this valley,
how elevated the butterfly's flight!
―Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How lowly this valley,
how lofty the butterfly's flight!
―Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here are more poems by various poets:
kari sugishi ato zenten o miseitari
Wild geese pass
leaving the emptiness of heaven
revealed
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
kurumi waru kurumi no naka ni tsukawanu heya
Such gloom!
Inside the walnut's cracked shell:
one empty room
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Are
the geese flying south?
The candle continues to flicker ...
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Blizzards here on earth,
blizzards of stars
in the sky
―Inahata Teiko (1931-), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The new calendar!:
as if tomorrow
is assured ...
―Inahata Teiko (1931-), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Tonight I saw
how
the peony crumples
in the fire's embers
―Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I stomp an ant
then realize my three children
have been intently watching.
―Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
It fills me with anger,
this moon; it fills me
and makes me whole
―Takeshita Shizunojo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
War
stood at the end of the hall
in the long shadows
―Watanabe Hakusen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Silence:
a single chestnut leaf
sinks through clear water ...
―Shohaku, loose translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
The bitter winter wind
ends here
with the frozen sea
―Ikenishi Gonsui, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, bitter winter wind,
why bellow so
when there's no leaves to fell?
―Natsume Sôseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Crows departed,
the setting sun illuminates
a leafless tree.
―Natsume Sôseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter waves
roil
their own shadows
―Tominaga Fûsei, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
No sky,
no land:
just snow eternally falling ...
―Kajiwara Hashin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The faint voices
of despised mosquitoes
filled me with remorse.
―Nakamura Kusatao, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stillness:
a single chestnut leaf glides
on brilliant water
―Ryuin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A pity to pluck,
A pity to pass ...
Ah, violet!
―Naojo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, dreamlike winter butterfly:
a puff of white snow
cresting mountains
―Kakio Tomizawa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring snow
cascades over fences
in white waves
―Suju Takano, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lieutenant-General Tomoyuki Yamashita wrote this poem on December 4,1941, while
sailing for Hainan to invade Malaya.
Now, as the sun and moon shine as one,
the arrow, hurtling from the bow,
speeds my spirit toward the enemy,
bearing also a hundred million souls
—my people of the East—
as the sun and moon shine as one.
—Tomoyuki Yamashita, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ceaseless chaos―
ice floes clash
in the Soya straits.
―Yamaguchi Seishi (1901-1994), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Having crossed the sea,
winter winds can never return.
―Yamaguchi Seishi (1901-1994), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
(Written in October 1944 as Kamikaze pilots were flying out to sea.)
Banish the snow
for the human torpedo
now lies exploded.
―Yamaguchi Seishi (1901-1994), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Green bottle flies
buzzing carrion—
did they just materialize?
―Yamaguchi Seishi (1901-1994), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As grief becomes unbearable
someone snaps a nearby branch.
―Yamaguchi Seishi (1901-1994), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As grief reaches its breaking point
someone snaps a nearby branch.
―Yamaguchi Seishi (1901-1994), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Trapped in the spider’s web
the firefly’s bulb
blinks out forever.
―Yamaguchi Seishi (1901-1994), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Trapped in the spider’s web
the firefly’s light
is swiftly consumed.
―Yamaguchi Seishi (1901-1994), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Seishi Yamaguchi has been said to represent “a pinnacle of haiku in
twentieth-century Japan.”
Winter blizzard—
I'll die knowing no hands
besides my husband's ...
―Hashimoto Takako
(1899-1963), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter blizzard—
so much remains
unwritten ...
―Hashimoto Takako (1899-1963), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wanting to see him,
wanting to be with him,
I step out on thin ice ...
―Mayuzumi Madoka
(1965-), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An untouched wave
collapses without climaxing ...
―Mayuzumi Madoka (1965-), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
More Zen Death Haiku & Related Oriental Poems
A night storm sighs:
"The fate of the flower is to fall" ...
rebuking all who hesitate
―Yukio Mishima (1925-1970), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch;
this is said to have been his death poem before committing ritual suicide.
“Isn’t it time,”
the young bride asks,
“to light the lantern?”
Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
With the departing year
I have hidden my graying hair
from my parents.
Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I wish to die
under the spring cherry blossoms
and April’s full moon.
Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Like blocks in the icehouse,
unlikely to last
the year out ...
—Sentoku (1661-1726), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Once again
the melon-cool moon
rises above the rice fields.
—Tanko (1665-1735), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
At long last I depart:
above me are rainless skies and a pristine moon
as pure as my heart.
—Senseki (1712-1742), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cuckoo, lift
me up
to where the clouds drift ...
Uko (1686-1743), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sixty-six,
setting sail through tranquil waters,
a breeze-blown lotus.
Usei (1698-1764), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Returning
as it came,
this naked worm.
—Shidoken (?-1765), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Like dew glistening
on a lotus leaf,
so too I soon must vanish.
—Shinsui (1720-1769), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Is it me the raven summons
from the spirit world
this frigid morning?
—Shukabo (1717-1775), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Is it me the raven screeches for
from the spirit world
this frigid morning?
—Shukabo (1717-1775),
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Return my dream, raven!
You woke me to a misted-over
unreadable moon
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738), said to be his death poem,
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To prepare for my voyage beyond,
let me don
a gown of flowers.
—Setsudo (1715-1776), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
From depths
unfathomably cold:
the oceans roar!
—Kasenjo (d. 1776), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Today Mount Hiei’s sky
with a quick change of clouds
also removes its robes.
Shogo (1731-1798), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I cup curious ears
among the hydrangeas
hoping to hear the spring cuckoo.
—Senchojo (?-1802), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Life,
is it like
a charcoal sketch, an obscure shadow?
—Toyokuni (?-1825), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Having been summoned,
I say farewell
to my house beneath the moon.
—Takuchi (1767-1846), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Since time dawned
only the dead have experienced peace;
life is snow burning in the sun.
—Nandai (1786-1817), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bitter winter winds ...
but later, river willow,
remember to open your buds!
—Senryu (1717-1790), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This leafless willow tree:
unlikely to be missed
as much as the cherry blossoms.
—Senryu II (?-1818), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My path
to Paradise:
ringed bright with flowers.
—Sokin (?-1818), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let this body
be dew
in a field of wildflowers.
—Tembo (1740-1823), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A willow branch
unable to reach the water
at the bottom of the vase.
—Shigenobu (?-1832), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bury me
beneath a wine barrel
in a bibber’s cellar:
with a little luck
the keg will leak.
—Moriya Senan (?-1838), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Learn to accept the inevitable:
the fall willow
knows when to abandon its leaves.
—Tanehiko (1782-1842), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I wish only to die
swiftly, with my eyes
fixed on Mount Fuji.
—Rangai (1770-1845), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A strident cricket
accompanies me
through autumn mountains.
—Shiko (1788-1845), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The cherry orchard’s owner
soon
becomes compost
for his trees.
—Utsu (1813-1863), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Autumn ends ...
the frogs find their place
submerged
in the earth.
—Shogetsu (1829-1899), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
First one hidden face is revealed,
then the other; thus spinning it falls,
the autumn leaf.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I persuaded a child to purchase rural wine;
once I'm nicely tipsy,
I’ll slap down some calligraphy.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The thief missed it:
the moon
bejeweling my window.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This world:
a distant mountain echo
dying unheard ...
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The peonies I planted around my hut
I must now surrender
to the wind’s will
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wild peonies
blossoming in their prime,
glorious in full bloom:
Too precious to pick,
To precious to leave unplucked
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
But one poet, at least, cast doubt on the death poem enterprise:
Death poems?
Damned delusions—
Death is death!
—Toko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
New Zen Death Haiku, Added 10/6/2020
Air ballet:
twin butterflies, twice white,
meet, match & mate
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Denied transformation
into a butterfly,
autumn worsens for the worm
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dusk-gliding swallow,
please spare my small friends
flitting among the flowers!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Up and at ’em! The sky goes bright!
Let’s hit the road again,
Companion Butterfly!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Higher than a skylark,
resting on the breast of heaven:
mountain pass.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Farewell,
my cloud-parting friend!
Wild goose migrating.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A crow settles
on a leafless branch:
autumn nightfall.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An exciting struggle
with such a sad ending:
cormorant fishing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Secretly,
by the light of the moon,
a worm bores into a chestnut.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This strange flower
investigated by butterflies and birds:
the autumn sky
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Where’s the moon tonight?
Like the temple bell:
lost at sea.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring departs;
birds wail;
the pale eyes of fish moisten.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon still appears,
though far from home:
summer vagrant.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cooling the pitiless sun’s
bright red flames:
autumn wind.
Saying farewell to others
while being told farewell:
departing autumn.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Traveling this road alone:
autumn evening.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Thin from its journey
and not yet recovered:
late harvest moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Occasional clouds
bless tired eyes with rest
from moon-viewing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The farmboy
rests from husking rice
to reach for the moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon aside,
no one here
has such a lovely face.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon having set,
all that remains
are the four corners of his desk.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon so bright
a wandering monk carries it
lightly on his shoulder.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The Festival of Souls
is obscured
by smoke from the crematory.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The Festival of Souls!
Smoke from the crematory?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Family reunion:
those with white hair and canes
visiting graves.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One who is no more
left embroidered clothes
for a summer airing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What am I doing,
writing haiku on the threshold of death?
Hush, a bird’s song!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fallen ill on a final tour,
in dreams I go roving
earth’s flowerless moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Stricken ill on a senseless tour,
still in dreams I go roving
earth’s withered moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Stricken ill on a journey,
in dreams I go wandering
withered moors.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Today, catching sight of the mallards
crying over Lake Iware:
Must I too vanish into the clouds?
—Prince Otsu (663-686), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Momozutau / iware no ike ni / naku kamo wo / kyo nomi mite ya / Kumokakuri nan
This world—
to what may we compare it?
To autumn fields
lying darkening at dusk
illuminated by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago (911-983), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
This world—to what may we liken it?
To autumn fields lit dimly at dusk,
illuminated by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago (911-983), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Like a half-exposed rotten log
my life, which never flowered,
ends barren.
—Minamoto Yorimasa (1104-1180), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Overtaken by darkness,
I will lodge under a tree’s branches;
cherry blossoms will cushion me tonight.
—Taira no Tadanori (1144–1184), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Overtaken by darkness,
I will lodge under a cherry tree’s branches;
flowers alone will bower me tonight.
—Taira no Tadanori (1144–1184), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Let me die in spring
beneath the cherry blossoms
while the moon is full.
—Saigyo (1118-1190), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
There is no death, as there is no life.
Are not the skies cloudless
And the rivers clear?
—Taiheiki Toshimoto (-1332), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
All five aspects of my fleeting human form
And the four elements of existence add up to nothing:
I bare my neck to the unsheathed sword
And its blow is but a breath of wind ...
—Suketomo (1290-1332), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Had I not known
I was already dead
I might have mourned
my own passing.
—Ota Dokan (1432-1486), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops
in which flashes of light
illuminate the void.
—Ôuchi Yoshitaka (1507-1551), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Even a life of long prosperity is like a single cup of sake;
my life of forty-nine years flashed by like a dream.
Nor do I know what life is, nor death.
All the years combined were but a fleeting dream.
Now I step beyond both Heaven and Hell
To stand alone in the moonlit dawn,
Free from the mists of attachment.
—Uesugi Kenshin (1530-1578), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
My life appeared like dew
and disappears like dew.
All Naniwa was a series of dreams.
—Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536-1598), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Felt deeply in my heart:
How beautiful the snow,
Clouds gathering in the west.
—Issho (-1668), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Brittle cicada shell,
little did I know
that you were my life!
—Shoshun (-1672), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Inhale, exhale.
Forward, reverse.
Live, die.
Let arrows fly, meet midway and sever the void in aimless flight:
Thus I return to the Source.
—Gesshu Soko (-1696), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem)by Michael R. Burch
My body?
Pointless
as the tree’s last persimmon.
—Seisa (-1722), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Farewell! I pass
as all things do:
dew drying on grass.
—Banzan (-1730), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
This world?
Moonlit dew
flicked from a crane’s bill.
— Eihei Dogen Kigen (1200-1253, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Seventy-one?
How long
can a dewdrop last?
—Kigen (-1736), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
A tempestuous sea ...
Flung from the deck —
this block of ice.
—Choha (-1740), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Empty cicada shell:
we return as we came,
naked.
—Fukaku (-1753), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Since I was born,
I must die,
and so …
—Kisei (1688-1764), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Let us arise and go,
following the path of the clear dew.
—Fojo (-1764), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Depths of the cold,
unfathomable ocean’s roar.
—Kasenjo (-1776), loose translation/interpretation of her jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Things never stand still,
not even for a second:
consider the trees’ colors.
—Seiju (-1776), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
—Yosa Buson (-1783), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Bitter winter winds!
But later, river willow,
reopen your buds ...
—Senryu (-1790), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Who cares
where aimless clouds are drifting?
—Bufu (-1792), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Like a lotus leaf’s evaporating dew,
I, too ...
vanish.
—Senryu (-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Man’s end:
this mound of albescent bones,
this brief flowering sure to fade ...
—Hamei (-1837), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
When I kick the bucket,
bury me beneath a tavern’s cellar wine barrel;
with a little luck the cask will leak.
—Moriya Sen’an (-1838), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Ware shinaba / sakaya no kame ni / shita no ikeyo / moshi ya shisuku no / moriyasennen
Frost on a balmy day:
all I leave is the water
that washed my brush.
—Tanaka Shutei (1810-1858, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Though moss may overgrow
my useless corpse,
the seeds of patriotism shall never decay.
—Nomura Boto (1806-1867), loose translation/interpretation of her jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
My aging body:
a drop of dew
bulging at the leaf-cliff.
—Kiba (-1868), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Forbearing the night
with its growing brilliance:
the summer moon.
—Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839-1892), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Blow if you must,
autumn wind,
but the flowers have already faded.
—Gansan (-1895), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Time to go ...
They say this journey is a long trek:
this final change of robes.
—Roshu (-1899), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
The moon departs;
frost paralyzes the morning glories.
— Kato (-1908), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Stumble,
tumble,
fall,
slide down the slippery snow slope.
— Getsurei (-1919), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
New Haiku Translations, added 6/27/2022
As the monks
sip their morning tea,
chrysanthemums quietly blossom.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The fragrance of plum blossoms
on a foggy path:
the sun rising.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The sea darkens ...
yet still faintly white
the wild duck protests.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pear tree blossoms
whitened by moonlight:
a young woman reading a letter.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Outlined in the moonlight ...
who is that standing
among the pear trees?
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your coolness:
the sound of the bell
departing the bell.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As the moon flies west
the flowers' shadows
creep eastward.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
By such pale moonlight
even the wisteria's fragrance
seems distant.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Leaves
like crows’ shadows
flirt with a lonely moon.
Kaga no Chiyo (1703-1775), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let me die
covered with flowers
and never again wake to this earthly dream!
—Ochi Etsujin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To reveal how your heart flowers,
sway like the summer grove.
—Tagami Kikusha-Ni (1753-1826), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R.
Burch
In the thicket's shade
a solitary woman sings the rice-planting song.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Unaware of these degenerate times,
cherry blossoms abound!
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These silent summer nights
even the stars
seem to whisper.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The enormous firefly
weaves its way, this way and that,
as it passes by.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Composed like the Thinker, he sits
contemplating the mountains:
the sagacious frog!
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An ancient pond,
the frog leaps:
the silver plop and gurgle of water
―Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An ancient pond sleeps, quiet and still ...
untroubled ... until ...
suddenly a frog leaps!
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Big old pond,
the little frog leaps:
Kerplash!
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Explosion!
The frog returns
to its lily pad.
—Michael R. Burch
A fallen blossom
returning to its bough?
No, a butterfly!
Arakida Moritake (1473-1549), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R.
Burch
Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water ...
Hattori Ransetsu (1654-1707), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R.
Burch
Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
Masaoki Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
Masaoki Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama (1874-1959), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
As girls gather rice sprouts
reflections of the rain ripple
on the backs of their hats.
—Kyoshi Takahama (1874-1959), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The crow has departed
leaving a leafless tree
swaying as night falls.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Autumn’s here, crickets,
whether you chirp
or not.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
After death
six feet under the frost
will be sufficient cover.
—Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
New Haiku Translations, added 5-30-2023
PLUM BLOSSOM HAIKU
A shy maiden:
the loveliness of the lone plum
blossoming
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Longing for plum blossoms:
bowing before the deutzia,
weeping.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Moonlit plum tree,
tarry!
Spring will return soon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The plum blossom’s fragrance
warms
winter’s frigid embrace.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
White plum blossoms:
have the cranes
gone undercover?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Suddenly, the scent of plums
on a mountain path:
sunrise!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warm sun unfolds
the plum blossom’s scent:
a mountain path.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The plum in full bloom
must not be disturbed
by the wind.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The plum's fragrance:
the past
holds such pathos.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Are you the butterfly
and I the dreaming heart
of Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
kimi ya cho / ware ya shoshi no / yume gokoro
The poem above is a reference to a butterfly dream of Chuang Tzu, a Taoist
sage and poet who was a major influence on Basho. Soshi is the Japanese
rendering of the name Chuang Tzu. I believe what Basho may have meant is
something closer to this:
Are you the butterfly
while I pursue dreams
of Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Are you the butterfly
while in my dreams
I flit after Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The white poppy
accepts the butterfly's broken wing
as a keepsake
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
shirageshi ni / hane mogu cho no / katami kana
As autumn deepens
a butterfly sips
chrysanthemum dew
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
aki o hete / cho mo nameru ya / kiku no tsuyu
The translation above is slated to be published by Emma Burleigh in her book
Earth Color.
A single leaf
of paulownia falling
reflects the sun.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I caught a falling cherry petal;
but opening my fist ...
nothing
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
They call it a white peony
yet it contains
hints of red
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Evening shadows
grow thick
on the floating algae
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The snake slithered away
yet his eyes, having met mine,
remained
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The bamboo grove
is lit
by the yellow spring sunlight
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Chikurin ni/ Ki naru haruhi wo/ Aogikeri
On a hot summer night
dreams and reality
merge.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mizika-yo ya/ Yume mo utsutsu mo / Onazi koto
The summer butterfly
has to look sharp
to make its getaway.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Natsu no cho/ Manako surudoku/ Kakeri kishi
The autumn sky
is severed
by the big chinquapin tree.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Akizora wo/ Futatsu ni tateri/ Shii-taiju
“Cawa-cawa!”
The winter crow
elocutes coarsely.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Kawa kawa to/ Ookiku yuruku/ Samu-garasu
New Haiku Translations, added 12-12-2023
The spring sea
eternally
rising and falling, ebbing and flowing ...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I write, erase, revise, erase again,
and then...
suddenly a poppy blooms!
—Katsushika Hokusai, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My well-bucket held hostage
by morning glories,
I went begging for water.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni aka Kaga Chiyome, loose translation/interpretation by Michael
R. Burch
Ah butterfly,
what dreams do you ply
with your beautiful wings?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni aka Kaga Chiyome, loose translation/interpretation by Michael
R. Burch
Fukuda Chiyo-ni (1703-1775), also known as Kaga no Chiyo and Kaga Chiyome, was a
Japanese poet, painter and calligrapher of the Edo period. She began writing
haiku at age seven and by age seventeen was popular throughout Japan. At age 52
she became a Buddhist nun, shaved her head, adopted the name Soen (“Escape”),
and took up residence in a temple.
A piercing chill
in our bedroom:
stabbed by my dead wife’s comb.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
After killing a spider,
how lonely I felt
in the frigid night.
—Masaoka Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Not to worry spiders,
I clean house ... sparingly.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wearily,
I enter the inn
to be welcomed by wisteria!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pale moonlight:
the wisteria’s fragrance
seems equally distant.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
By such pale moonlight
even the wisteria's fragrance
seems distant.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pale moonlight:
the wisteria’s fragrance
drifts in from afar.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pale moonlight:
the wisteria’s fragrance
drifts in from nowhere.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Patiently,
I awaited the new moon:
now I have my reward.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The cicada’s shrill cry
conveys no understanding
that it soon will die.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vanishing spring:
songbirds lament,
fish weep with watery eyes.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One candle
lights another candle:
winter starlight.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Bitter winter wind,
why bellow so
when there's no leaves to blow?
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter winds howl in rage,
having no leaves to abuse.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Right at my feet!
When did you arrive here,
snail?
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Climb holy Mt. Fuji, snail,
but in your humble way:
no need to rush!
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
While praying to Buddha
I keep killing mosquitoes.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I'm trying to sleep!
Please swat the flies
gently.
—Masaoka Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Some men
would tell even the cuckoo
not to sing.
—Masaoka Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
(The pen name Shiki means “cuckoo.”)
Plum flower temple:
voices ascend
from the valleys.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The lamp extinguished,
once-distant stars
have a reunion at my window.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Original Haiku
Brittle autumn leaf,
no one informed me
you were my life!
—Michael R. Burch
Fading memories
of summer holidays:
the closet’s last floral skirt
—Michael R. Burch
Scandalous tides,
removing bikinis!
—Michael R. Burch
This is a poem of mine composed of haiku-like stanzas:
Dandelion, Roar!
by Michael R. Burch
Lift up your head
dandelion,
hear spring roar!
How will you tidy your hair
so near
summer?
Leave to each still night
your lightest affliction,
dandruff.
Soon you will free yourself:
one shake
of your white mane.
Now there are worlds
into which you appear
and disappear
seemingly at will
but invariably blown—
wildly, then still.
Gasp at the bright chill
glower
of winter.
Icicles splinter;
sleep still an hour,
till, resurrected in power,
you lift up your head,
dandelion.
Hear spring roar!
Untitled
You rise with the sun,
mysteriously warm,
also scattering sunbeams.
—Michael R. Burch
As springs’ budding blossoms emerge
the raptors glide mercilessly.
—Michael R. Burch
I wrote this haiku-like poem above on 3-27-2023 after the Nashville Covenant school
massacre.—Michael R. Burch
Incomprehensible
by Michael R. Burch
“Slain” — an impossible word to comprehend.
The male lion murders cubs,
licks his lips, devours them.
Untitled
Her sky-high promises:
midday moon
—Michael R. Burch
The north wind’s refrain,
a southbound train ...
Invitation?
—Michael R. Burch
The north wind’s refrain,
the receding strain
of a southbound train ...
Invitation?
—Michael R. Burch
The moon blushed
then fled behind a cloud:
her stolen kiss.
—Michael R. Burch
Elderly sunflowers:
bees trimming their beards.
—Michael R. Burch
Dry leaf flung awry:
bright butterfly,
goodbye!
― Michael R. Burch
A snake in the grass
lies, hissing
Trespass!
― Michael R. Burch
Honeysuckle
blesses the knuckle
with affectionate dew
― Michael R. Burch
The day’s eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.
― Michael R. Burch
She bathes in silver,
afloat
on her reflections ...
—Michael R. Burch
My mother’s eyes
acknowledging my imperfection:
dejection
― Michael R. Burch
The whore with the pallid lips
lipsticks
into something more comfortable
― Michael R. Burch
I am a traveler
going nowhere—
but my how the gawking bystanders stare!
― Michael R. Burch
Even the moon in decline
like my lover’s heart
lies far beyond mine
― Michael R. Burch
Night,
the ice and the darkness
conspire against human warmth
― Michael R. Burch
Night
and the stars
conspire against me
― Michael R. Burch
Late autumn; now all
the golden leaves turn black underfoot:
soot
― Michael R. Burch
Celebrate the New Year?
The cat is not impressed,
the dogs shiver.
―Michael R. Burch
Valentine Haiku #1
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
A leaf brushes my cheek:
a subtle lover’s
gentlest caress.
Valentine Haiku #2
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
Teach me to love:
to fly beyond sterile Mars
to percolating Venus.
The Ultimate Haiku Against God
by Michael R. Burch
Because you made a world
where nothing matters,
our hearts lie in tatters.
Early robins
get the worms,
cats waiting to pounce.
—Michael R. Burch
Sleepyheads!
I recite my haiku
to the inattentive lilies.
—Michael R. Burch
Am I really this old,
so many ghosts
beckoning?
—Michael R. Burch
The sky tries to assume
your eyes’ azure
but can’t quite pull it off.
—Michael R. Burch
The sky tries to assume
your eyes’ arresting blue
but can’t quite pull it off.
—Michael R. Burch
Two bullheaded frogs
croaking belligerently:
election season.
—Michael R. Burch
An enterprising cricket
serenades the sunrise:
soloist.
—Michael R. Burch
A single cricket
serenades the sunrise:
solo violinist.
—Michael R. Burch
#POEM #POEMS #POETRY #HAIKU #MRB-HAIKU #MRBPOEM #MRBPOEMS #MRBPOETRY #MRBHAIKU
#MRBTRANSLATION #MRBTRANSLATIONS #MRBPOET #MRBBASHO #MRBBUSON #MRBISSA #MRBSHIKI
Haiku Rules, Dos and Don'ts
Are there rules for writing haiku? Even the experts, many of them
self-appointed, don't agree. While I don't claim to be an "expert," I will offer
my opinions, which can be taken with a grain of salt, and surely will be, by the
traditionalists and purists.—MRB
The 5-7-5 syllable rule: I don't think this rule has ever made much sense in
English language haiku, since no rhythm is achieved by counting syllables. In
English poetry, rhythm is created via patterns of stressed and unstressed
syllables. When meter is absent, poetic devices such as alliteration, assonance
and consonance may be employed. Or haiku can be pure free verse without poetic
devices. But in any case, I see nothing to be gained via the 5-7-5 form. I
ignore the rule myself.
The three line rule: While most haiku have three lines, I see no reason haiku
can't have fewer or more lines. I sometimes employ fewer or more lines, when the
logic of what is being said seems to work more naturally that way.
The nature and season rules: The great Oriental masters of the form did not
write strictly about nature or the seasons, so I ignore these rules.
The "cut" rule: I have heard variations of a "cut" rule in which two lines have
to be about one thing only, with those two lines "cutting" over to the third
line. While this is fine if poets want to do it, I see no reason to make it a
hard-and-fast rule.
So what are my personal rules for haiku? I don't care much for rules myself, so
I will use the term "guidelines" instead. I am more concerned about what haiku
should do, than I am with creating arbitrary "don'ts" that just get in the way
and clog up the works. For me, the essential attributes of haiku are minimalism,
epiphany, and being a sort of poetic or "zen" snapshot. I would much rather bend
or break the rules and produce an epiphany, than adhere to the rules and have
the poem fall flat. Therefore, my guidelines are simple and flexible:
(1) Minimalism: A haiku is a brief poem constructed usually (but not always) of
three short lines.
(2) Snapshot: A haiku is usually (but not always) a vivid snapshot of one thing
or event, or of closely related things or events.
(3) Epiphany: A good haiku results in some sort of epiphany (a flash of insight,
a feeling of déjà vu, "a sense of sudden enlightenment and illumination," a sob,
a tear, a wince, a chuckle, etc.).
(4) Imagery and metaphor: Most haiku employ imagery and many involve some sort
of metaphor (transference).
(5) Poetic devices: Haiku may employ (but do not require) poetic devices such as
meter, rhyme, alliteration, assonance and consonance).
(6) Punctuation and capitalization: Because haiku are typically brief, and are
thus generally easier to parse, punctuation and capitalization are less critical
that with longer works of poetry and prose. This does not mean that some haiku
will not benefit from punctuation. When a haiku might be read incorrectly
otherwise, I employ punctuation. Punctuation can also help "slow down" the
reading a bit, by indicating pauses to the reader. I think punctuation is
optional in most haiku, but can be immensely beneficial in the proper spots. And
it is never "wrong" to employ standard capitalization and punctuation.
How does one go about writing haiku? I think the first and most important step
is to read the haiku of the Oriental masters, starting with grand masters like
Basho, Buson, Issa and Shiki. There are, I believe, many good examples on this
page. Pay particular attention to the "snapshot" and "epiphany" aspects of
haiku. Then see if you can capture similar magic yourself. Don't get hung up on
the rules. If you can produce an epiphany, who cares exactly how you did it? If
you abide by all the rules and the poem falls flat, what has been accomplished?
Original Haiku by Michael
R. Burch
The Masters of Haiku, Tanka, Waka and Related Forms
Matsuo Basho
Yosa Buson
Kobayashi Issa
Ono no Komachi
Yamaguchi Seishi
Takaha Shugyo
The Oriental Masters of Haiku
Fukuda Chiyo-ni
Related pages:
The Best Sonnets,
The Best Villanelles,
The Best Ballads,
The Best Sestinas,
The Best Rondels and Roundels,
The Best Kyrielles,
The Best Couplets,
The Best Quatrains,
The Best Haiku,
The Best Limericks,
The Best Nonsense Verse,
The Best Poems for Kids,
The Best Light Verse,
The Best Poem of All Time,
The Best Poems Ever Written,
The Best Poets,
The Best of the Masters,
The Most Popular Poems of All Time,
The Best American Poetry,
The Best Poetry Translations,
The Best Ancient Greek Epigrams and Epitaphs,
The Best Anglo-Saxon Riddles and Kennings,
The Best Old English Poetry,
The Best Lyric Poetry,
The Best Free Verse,
The Best Story Poems,
The Best Narrative Poems,
The Best Epic Poems,
The Best Epigrams,
The Most Beautiful Poems in the English Language,
The Most Beautiful Lines in the English Language,
The Most Beautiful Sonnets in the English Language,
The Best Elegies, Dirges & Laments,
The Best Poems about Death and Loss,
The Best Holocaust Poetry,
The Best Hiroshima Poetry,
The Best Anti-War Poetry,
The Best Religious Poetry,
The Best Spiritual Poetry,
The Best Heretical Poetry,
The Best Thanksgiving Poems,
The Best Autumnal Poems,
The Best Fall/Autumn Poetry,
The Best Dark Poetry,
The Best Halloween Poetry,
The Best Supernatural Poetry,
The Best Dark Christmas Poems,
The Best Vampire Poetry,
The Best Love Poems,
The Best Urdu Love Poetry,
The Best Erotic Poems,
The Best Romantic Poetry,
The Best Love Songs,
The Ten Greatest Poems Ever Written,
The Greatest Movies of All Time,
England's Greatest Artists,
Visions of Beauty,
What is Poetry?,
The Best Abstract Poetry,
The Best Antinatalist Poems and Prose,
Early Poems: The Best Juvenilia,
Human Perfection: Is It Possible?,
The Best Book Titles of All Time,
The Best
Writing in the English Language,
Michael R. Burch Romantic
Poems,
Michael R. Burch Free Verse
The HyperTexts