We meet once again
my dear viola player …
under cherry blooms
Sosui
The village tannoy declares
something about shunning them –
a spring monkey troupe
Tito
How I long to see
baby swallows in their nest –
bulging scarlet throats!
Sosui
The day you come to stay …
the first swallows, too
arrive in Asuka
Tito
Tito has helped me select a few from the haiku series I composed in Haruna, Gunma during February and March this year. I hope you might like some of them.
Nobuyuki Yuasa (Sosui)
野良猫も今日はのんびり日を浴びる
A stray cat feeling
carefree today, blissfully
basking in warm sun
立ちたるも伏したるも梅咲き出でる
Standing or sprawling,
the plum trees have all begun
to blossom at once!
味噌汁に蕗を散らせは春匂う
Chopped butterbur shoots –
sprinkle them into your soup
and spring scent arises
春の滝ネットの旅であまた見る
Net-surfing in March:
in a jiffy I can appraise
so many spring falls!
Late in the morning on March 16, eighteen haiku poets – and their little prince, Glyeb – come together at Tegai-mon, the west gate of Todaiji Temple, built in the mid-eighth century.
Into his rucksack
a toddler
packing spring light
… (Yaeno Azuchi)
We begin strolling around the backyards of the Great Buddha Hall.
They sunbathe
behind the Great Temple ―
naked trees
… (Akishige Ida)
andromeda blooms
at Daibutsu pond —
longing for my daughter
… (Sydney Solis)
finicky tourists:
a world ago and now
two deer chewing sprouts
… (Anna Shershnyova)
white-fluffy-tailed fawn
already makes eyes at tourists –
senbe dreaming
… (Ursula Maierl)
The Shoso-in, the Nara emperors’ 8th century treasure house, made entirely of timber in the ancient azekura (log house) style, is unfortunately closed for the day, but at least we catch a glimpse of its long, tiled roof.
The Imperial Storehouse
takes a holiday:
the deer work hard
… (Hiroko Nakakubo)
Shosoin –
deer in tree shade
grazing Time itself
… (Shigeko Kibi)
A Persian vase
in the ancient storehouse:
dry westerly
from the Silk Road
… (Ayako Kurokawa)
remnant
of a cedar torch
left in a monk’s yard –
spring is nigh
… (Eiko Mori)
Proceeding to Nigatsu-do (February Hall) between aged clay walls, we climb steep stone steps. At this hall, Todaiji’s solemn rite, Shuni-e (popularly called ‘Omizutori’), has been performed every February of the old lunar calendar since 752 CE. This year’s rite was completed just two days before. In one corner, there is a box of charred cryptomeria twigs from the heavy blazing torches that had been run by monks along the great wooden balustrade outside. Today, people are taking these twigs home as talismans.
Under a blue sky
the scenery unfolds –
February Hall
… (Akito Mori)
Soft spring breeze –
after the Water-drawing Rites
burnt scent
of cedar torches
… (Jun Tsutsumi)
In my mind
sharing the breeze
with ancient noblemen –
Nigatsu-do veranda
… (Akira Kibi)
We then enter the adjacent Hokke-do (also known as Sangatsu-do, March Hall), completed in 733 CE, and find ourselves facing the great gilt Fukusenkaku Kannon, with its associates and guards, all National Treasures made using the kanshitsu (‘dry lacquer’) technique.
Remains of gold
shine dimly
in the chiaroscuro hall –
statues grown old
… (Jeanne)
The third eye
of the golden Kannon
half open –
spring has come
… (Kazue Gill)
Most of us then go to see Todaiji Temple’s 26-ton Great Bell, one of Japan’s oldest and largest, suspended nearby in its own bell tower.
Reverberations of the Bell –
subtle overtones
of imaginary ringing
… (Kyoko Nozaki)
as if locked in a cave
standing under
the temple bell –
spring darkness
… (Tomiko Nakayama)
Now, it’s high time for lunch, and soon we have assembled on the second floor of Yama no Café, looking out on grassy Wakakusa Hill. In his welcome remarks, Tito mentions Basho’s haiku composed back in 1685 inside Nigatsu-do during Shuni-e.
水とりや氷の僧の沓の音
Mizutori ya / kohri no sou no/ kutsu no oto
The Water-drawing Ceremony –
that freezing sound of monks
shuffling in their clogs
After lunch, an improvised book stall is set up, with Jeanne and Tomiko serving – an unusual opportunity to buy, at a 30% discount, many of the past 20-odd years of Hailstone Publications. Of 34 books brought, all but 5 are sold. We then share some of the haiku composed on the day while sipping tea. Finally we disperse, still not a cloud in the luminous spring sky. One or two linger, to take a stroll on close-cropped Wakakusa-yama …
The box of poetry books, sold –
folding it flat
and sliding on that
down the grassy slope!
… (Tito)
Right on the cusp between winter and spring, Hailstone Haiku Circle has launched an Instagram page! We begin with a haipho (haiku photograph) of cherry blossom in snow. Special thanks are due to Jun Tsutsumi and Anna Shershnyova for their collaboration with getting this started. Branko Manojlovic will also become an editor. This team will decide what to feature, as well as monitor comments and answer enquiries. Please visit and follow us here: https://www.instagram.com/hailstonehaiku/
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Following on from their Wind & Rain typhoon venture back in August, last Sunday (January 28, 2024), Jeanne (French) and Tito (British) met up for another ramble in the ancient capital of Asuka (Nara prefecture) to continue their renga collaboration. This was to be a linked verse made of actuality poems scribbled on the go (ginko-no-renga) rather than dreamt up in a room. As if to remind them of last summer, rain began to fall as they left for their walk. One heavy shower was followed by intermittent drizzle… with a hint of spring in it. Hopefully, you will find a discernible link between successive verses as the imagery changes along the walk. If you know either of the poets, I wonder if you can guess who wrote which? Hard!
It’s often said that ‘renga is more for the amusement of the protagonists and less for that of readers’, but ginko-no-renga, being anchored in nature, might hopefully sometimes prove an exception to this generalization? Your ideas on this topic can be left beneath in the reply box.
.
…. Sunday afternoon –
…. raindrops break the silence
…. of the village playground
Through ancient basins 1
stone begins to speak
…. Availing themselves
…. of a providential bench,
…. two Europeans
Along the drab street
a bright blue Art Deco door
…. It comes complete
…. with an abseiling spider –
…. the scarlet nandin picked 2
Day colder, as the crows
scavenge a bare field
…. Left from harvest
…. wet straw ricks –
…. their dishevelled silhouettes
Lone lapwing beats its way 3
towards the tea-time rooves
…. Down by the river
…. a small shrine where few will pray –
…. cars roaring by
Grand stone guardian: 4
a mouth, one eye, no nose
…. The dipper dipped …
…. and now it flies upstream,
…. a sombre dart
A temple bell, to mountains
shaped by clouds
…. Someone must have pruned
…. its plum and wintersweet –
…. a flowering bluff 5
Derelict plot becomes a new cafe;
tanuki, chased away 6
.
Notes:
1 those of Oka no Sakafune-ishi, a mysterious carved rock sited on an artificial hill near the Asuka Palace site.
2 Nandina domestica, whose red berries brighten up Japanese gardens in midwinter.
3 the grey-headed lapwing, Vanellus cinereus.
4 Miroku-ishi, a menhir, in which there are some indistinct marks purported to be a Buddha’s face.
5 on the edge of the ruined site of Kawaradera Temple.
6 raccoon dog that used to live in the bamboo grove at the old house formerly known as ‘Okamoto-tei’.
I am posting my haibun mentioned by Richard in his brilliant report on this year’s Autumn Haike. The following piece was conceived several years before on the very same spot around Sumoto castle. (Branko)
Climbing Mt. Mikuma to Sumoto Castle
Under the beating sun the steep trail feels even steeper. Our feet must learn fast how to sidestep the bulging tree roots, how not to trip over hundreds and hundreds of rocks. ‘Just look at this flower, I wonder what it is’. ‘Look out, there in the bushes, something’s moving!’ Pretty lame excuses for pausing to catch our breath.
… Toward the summit
… contemplating the white
… blotches on the bark
Then about two o’clock we reach the panoramic hilltop. The castle grounds are wide, hushed, eerie. We walk up to what looks like a souvenir shop. The shutters are open and yes, there is someone here – a figure of a woman dozing in a rickety chair, her torso bent forward like a panda’s. Beside her, writ large on the wooden board: FRESH TAKOYAKI
The castle, smallish and whitish, turns out to be fenced-off! This can’t be! Instantly, the devil in me awakens and so, anticipating your scolding look, I hurdle over the metal bars and set off climbing up the wooden staircase for a glimpse of the interior. Nothing much to see though: three floors of vacant rooms, wall-paint peeling off, window bars blackened by rust. In one of the draughty tatami rooms, I try to imagine a scene, an act, anything to justify my fruitless intrusion. I strain my eyes to picture a daimyo no less, lying on the futon with one hand supporting his oversized head; beside him sits his concubine whose face I cannot see. She is gently combing her long black hair.
Late afternoon. The two of us now strolling barefoot along the beach. The ocean is so calm it seems dead. In the distance a child starts yelling: Anago! Anago!
On Saturday 18 November, nine Hailstones – Tomiko, Jeanne, Margarite, Duro, Akihiko, Eiko, David, Tito and Richard – took a highway coach from Sannomiya over the Akashi Bridge to Sumoto on Awaji Island.
arced like the earth
wires of the passing bridge:
time on the horizon
runs slow
… (Akihiko)
The driver
just one hand on the wheel –
a giant gust of wind
… (Tito)
winter approaching;
dead lotus plants
dancing
like skeletons
… (Tomiko)
Squalls and slushy sleet buffeted our bus, providing a wild welcome to the castle town. But soon enough the tempest subsided, leaving behind a bitterly cold wind. After depositing our bags at the charming Kaigetsukan Hotel opposite Ōhama Beach, we had a late lunch at Maaru, a quirky beachfront café specialising in baumkuchen, with a side dish of Awaji-related mythopoetical commentary from Tito. Next Jeanne, Margarite and Tito paddled barefoot in the seawater, declaring it much warmer than the frigid air. They then walked barefoot down the street to a hot-spring footbath tended by the tanuki Shibasuke, one of the many raccoon-dog denizens of Sumoto.
A quick visit to the Awajishima Museum, by chance free that weekend, offered twin origin stories of Japan: the deities Izanagi and Izanami, said to have created Awaji Island before the rest, cheek by jowl with the duckbilled dinosaur Yamatosaurus izanagii, fossils of which were discovered in Sumoto in 2004. Suitably informed, our party (sans Eiko, who had to return to the mainland) wound their way up the trail to the peak of Mt. Mikuma (133m), where the ruins of Sumoto Castle (1536) are located.
in rain, its welcome
in evening glow, its farewell –
Sumoto Castle
… (Eiko)
At the wind-wracked peak, we clustered around the lone reconstructed structure and looked out at the town of Sumoto and Osaka Bay, bathed in a rich ochre twilight.
Sunk deep in the puddle
Beneath the castle keep –
The last of the sun
… (Richard)
On descending Mt. Mikuma, we were drawn to the illuminated bamboo swing deftly erected on Ōhama Beach. After a quick dip in the hotel bath and seafood dinner nearby, we assembled in the lobby for poetry readings, including an amusing haibun from Branko, describing his illicit foray into the Sumoto Castle keep on an earlier visit: such a big hit with Duro, he demanded an encore reading. Some of us returned to the bath as the clock neared midnight.
The next morning, a few ventured out for a dawn run or stroll along the beach, while others breakfasted on the 7th floor of the hotel, which afforded fine views of sunbeams playing across the rugged coastline through the remaining clouds, leading our eyes in the direction of the day’s outing further south. A local bus dropped us off near Yura Port, where the veteran ferryman, cigarette perpetually hanging from his mouth, genially transferred us to Naruga Island. While uninhabited and known for its rare plant life, the islet sand spit, known locally as Awaji-hashidate, was clearly not immune to human influence.
On Autumn Island
I hold one breath
to catch the hoots
of ships bound for China
… (David)
beachcombing …
the seashells that lie hidden
beneath the rubbish
… (Duro)
Our ferryman returned to take us south to Oishi Park – part of the Setonaikai National Park and site of artillery emplacements that protected Osaka Bay until the end of WWII.
Bouncing
on the autumn waves:
long after we’ve parted,
the boatman’s goofy smile
… (Tito)
Trees have grown
On the crumbling battery wall –
Tranquillity
… (Jeanne)
The highest viewpoint in Oishi, though a steep slog, afforded unparalleled views of the Kitan Strait and Wakayama Prefecture’s western coastline. We will not soon forget this vista, nor our visit to friendly Sumoto.
Kii Peninsula
far into the autumn sea
merging with the sky
… (Margarite)
warm-up act –
on the outdoor Noh-stage pillars
hornets kiss and tumble
… Ursula
On Oct.16, for the second time this year, haiku poets arrive at Ouda. Six of them have come to attend the autumn festival of Aki Shrine and to enjoy a performance of Aki Noh. The sun is bright; leaves rustle in the cool breeze.
Harvest fete –
birds praise, a dragonfly watches
sacred Okina Noh
… Akishige
A dragonfly shines,
resting in the autumn sun
on a bald head!
… Saskia
Two braziers are lit in front of the Noh stage. Then, the sound of a flute begins to float from behind the curtain to the hashigakari, the corridor leading to the stage. The audience holds its breath.
Okina (翁), at first without a mask, appears… and sits down on the stage. Noh musicians follow him. The play begins. Okina puts on a pale-skinned old man’s mask, signifying a divine spirit, and prays for peace in the world.
sacred fires
in an autumn breeze;
chirping birds
in the still of Noh
… Akihiko
After Okina’s exit, Sambaso (三番三) makes his entrance. Presently, he puts on a dark-skinned old man’s mask and prays for a rich harvest.
lavish court costumes
at Amaterasu’s
wabi-sabi shrine
… Ursula
Now the final curtain, and Aki Shrine officials, together with some of the Noh actors and musicians, are throwing rice cakes from the stage to the audience.
Taking off
his sacred Noh mask –
willow leaves fall
… Tomiko
Autumn festival –
for a pocketful of rice cakes
I’ve come from afar
… Yaeno
October dusk begins to shroud the temenos.
My home, in the village of Asuka, an hour south of Nara, now feels much warmer for the visit by the twenty or so Hailstone poets it received on September 24th. The day began with blissful early autumn cool.
the old capital
studded with boulders －
golden ears of rice
………………. (Akihiko)
Morning – six cars made rendezvous at Asuka Station, from where they went to the Saru’ishi Stones and the Hill of Amakashi. At the first location, Tito told the poets about the likeness of two of the mysterious seventh-century stone carvings to Persian traders and of their position at the entrance to a valley of tumuli including that of Emp. Kinmei. At the second, having climbed to the top of the Hill, he read two Manyoshu poems – by Emp. Jomei and Yamabe no Akahito. We gazed out over the old capital sites of Asuka-kyo with Japan’s first Buddhist temple, and, more distantly, of Fujiwara-kyo and the graceful Yamato hills – Unebi, Miminashi and Kagu – arrayed around. Further afield, we noted Mounts Miwa, Nijo, Katsuragi and Kongo, and, as the air was clear, even Kyoto’s Atago and Hiei peeking, blue, above the northern skyline. Bush-clover was in flower and both cherry and persimmon leaves were showing their first autumn tints.
Rocks from ancient times – …………………. the fairy rock’s smile –
two black-winged dragonflies stop ………. guarding the edge of our world
but one was shadow …………………………. from somewhere beyond
…………… (Mai) ………………………………………… (Akira)
Chrysanthemum-shaped cups ……………… A swallow
line the path up Amakashi Hill— …………… left behind in Asuka?
acorns in season …………………………….. autumn deepens
………….. (Mayumi) ……………………………………. (Yaeno)
Lunch – local kakinoha-zushi and hot nyumen soup – was taken on the second floor of friendly Mendoya and a birthday gift was presented to the chef-proprietress, Kimiko Kitami. Thereafter, poets were encouraged to go off alone or in small groups and explore the direction of their choice: north to Asukadera and its black bronze Great Buddha, parts of which date back to the sixth century; or east to Okadera and its white clay Giant Bodhisattva made in the eighth; south to Ishibutai, the giant rock tomb of Soga Umako; or west to Tachibanadera, the birthplace of Prince Shotoku, who, along with Umako, helped establish both Japanese Buddhism and a centralized state with its own constitution. This temple is also the home of the Nimenseki carved rock. Two groups went off a little further in cars. This was now to be the poets’ working time.
.. (North)
spirits of ancient rulers – ………………….. Where mountains rise
lush rice fields glisten ……………………… sounding the temple bell:
under a still-strong sun ……………………. prayer before
…………… (Jun) …………………………… the Great Buddha
…………………………………………………………… (Akito)
The old temple tile
shut in a glass case –
remembrance of Silla
………….. (Jeanne)
.. (East)
Like a pagoda ……………………………… in a rice field
connecting heaven and earth, …………… the other world—
stood barefoot on the moss ……………… equinox amaryllis
………….. (Margarite) ………………………………. (Tomiko)
Stern guardian,
The shrine cat
Descends
For a tummy rub
………….. (Richard)
.. (South)
winding rice terraces – ……………………. a cool breeze
chocabloc parking …………………………. enters the dim stone tomb …
for the scarecrow festival …………………. ferns in a chink
………….. (Ursula) ……………………………….. (Akihiko)
standing in the midst
of a swarm of dragonflies
how strangely peaceful
………….. (Duro)
.. (West)
Nimenseki ………………………………….. the stone faces
turns my heart inside out … ……………… of good and evil
on the pond behind ……………………….. back-to-back:
white lilies ………………………………….. world-weary and worn
………….. (Akishige) ……………………………… (Ursula)
a big tree casts ……………………………. Tell me why:
its broad shade: …………………………… a score of dragonflies
beyond, ……………………………………. over ripening rice
red spider lily ridges ……………………… flying to and fro
………….. (Reiko) ………………………………… (Tito)
lying down to view ……………………….. growing out of
a flower-painted ceiling … ………………. the chorus of crickets,
whisper of ………………………………… a red spider lily
the garden breeze ………………………………. (Shigeko)
………….. (Teruko)
Devil’s Chopping Board – ……………….. holding onto sunlight –
a mosquito on her ……………………….. the grasshopper’s rice stem
sweaty cheek …………………………….. sways with the wind
………….. (Branko) ……………………………… (Anna)
Tea – at Tito and Kazue Gill’s house in Oka, with sandwiches, cakes, biscuits and other things, enjoyed as we redrafted our jottings ready to share at the subsequent reading session. Everyone who took part in the days’ two ginkos managed to compose something, and I’ve given but a small selection made in honour of the ancient capital and its Janus-like character. Asuka faces both backwards into a golden past with strong continental connections and forwards into an uncertain future as its largely agricultural society begins slowly to think about the possible impact of global tourism. On the issue, Asuka’s enigmatic stones remain entirely silent.
Then and now—
endless autumn flowers
to the capital site
………….. (Mayumi)
light snow —
the bird’s tracks turn
toward spring
………….. (Bandit, Minnesota, USA)
thud, sounds the earth
of falling pecans
above, a squirrel tail flickers
………….. (Sydney Solis, Florida, USA)
Little white petals
dancing in the wind —
redstart wears two
………….. (Mai Segawa, Asuka, Nara)
deep underground
snails dream
turquoise stars
………….. (Robert MacLean, B.C., Canada)
Monks’ chanting
resonates in the Amitabha Hall —
a pinkish lotus flower sways
………….. (Ayako Kurokawa, Kyoto)
Comments by Sosui (Nobuyuki Yuasa):
Tito sent me a list of ten inbox haiku and asked me to choose a few for posting. At my request, he also sent me an additional list containing five more poems, mostly by Japanese poets writing in English. I decided to choose four poems from the first list and one from the second. They are all very good, I think, but some of them might need reworking. Basho kept on revising his poems all through his life. I believe that haiku requires two phases — that of the particular moment itself and subsequently that of eternity. The poems I have chosen have all succeeded in catching a beautiful moment, but I think more work might be needed to elevate them to the level of haiku containing a hint of eternity.
I found No.1 very delicate. I especially enjoyed the warm eyes of the poet looking at the bird tracks on the snow.
No. 2 has a nice image of the flickering tail of a squirrel, very impressive as it is difficult to catch.
No.3 reminded me of a similar experience I had years ago. A white-eye came to suck honey from a camellia and flew away with red petals on its head. An experience of this kind stays in your mind for a long time.
No. 4 is perhaps the most beautiful poem in the list, but it gave me an impression of too much contrivance. Surely snails are more humble creatures?
No. 5 evokes a beautiful image of a temple with a lotus pond. I found, though, the last line rather misleading. Especially, I wondered why the poet had chosen the word ‘pinkish’ rather than ‘pink’. For me, it destroys the beautiful image of a temple.
Icebox 