for Moya


The hearse departs –

Now she blesses us all

With little drops

Of spring-like rain …

………………………………………..(Kyoto, 30.1.09)

(hitsugi tachi yagate kudaru ya Moya no jiu, Jap. trans. by Toshi Ida)


* some of the poems and comments added to this post may, in due course, be passed on to Moya’s family. Her final contribution to Hailstone was the fine report three posts below, ‘Winter Solstice’.

10 Responses to “for Moya”

  1. John Dougill Says:

    Very nice sentiment. I wonder if we could have a haiku ‘wake’ in memory of Moya… I remember the session she organised in her apartment garden and the one on the winter solstice with great fondness… What a tragic loss her accident is and how redolent of the fragility of life…

  2. I shared the same sentiment. Let me try a Japanese adaptation of your verse:

      (hitsugi tachi yagate kudaru ya Moya no jiu)

  3. Richard Donovan Says:

    I’m in Canberra right now, in 38-degree heat. I’ve been presenting on literary translation at the Asia-Pacific Week, a conference for postgraduate students at ANU. I brought Seasons of the Gods along as an to show off as an artefact of intercultural exchange, a spirit of coexistence that Moya of course embodied. Today, I read her poem of the frogs and looked at her illustration on the first page, and thought about her.

  4. Akito Mori Says:

    As the dearest friend of Haistone Haiku Circle, we had walked together
    with Moya. It is very sad and pity that Moya left so suddenly from us.
    Her warmful personality and lovely smile shall remain in our mind

  5. She seem’d permanent
    Plying her art and poetry:
    Tears came with the news.
    Her warmth and sense and sincerity, all somehow understated, were so arresting. It lulled us into thinking that she was ageless and would hold her even pace for years. I feel her loss deeply. Thank you for letting us know. Please convey our Circle’s sympathy to Ronan and her family. (John McAteer, USA)

  6. Hisashi Miyazaki Says:

    Last Friday (30th) I was momentarily in a Tao temple of Suh-Chi-Ruh, a small village located along the steep slope of Mt. Chi-run in Tai-pei suburb, to avoid the dreadful storm. Dense fog had hindered our view but at around noon, it began to clear off gradually and suddenly completely. Unexpected, marvellous scenery of a sunlit fishing port came in sight so distant below us! – Soon fog rapidly came back to wrap the village again. Still slanting rain.
    Next day afternoon, in the lecture of astronomy I learnt how to calculate the present age of the universe, T=r/v, v=H0r where H0=71km/s/Mpc, Hubble’s parameter. The universe is 13.7 billion years old. Several million years ago, our ancester appeared in Africa and spread out to the whole world several hundred thousand years ago.
    優しかったMoyaさん、御冥福をお祈りします。 合掌

  7. I only had the chance to meet Moya at the solstice event a month or so ago. Moya’s cheer and graciousness made for an instant friendship. Despite only spending a day with her, this loss has struck me harder than expected.

    Single incense stick
    Traces prayers
    In the cold winter air

  8. Really beautiful work. It is terribly sad to lose Moya, but what greater testament to her personality than the son she left behind in Ronan. What spirit, and what a speech! The memorial service is in Kilkenny tomorrow (Feb 3rd) and my wife Junko and some other of Moya’s friends in Ireland are going down from Dublin. They will be as upset and moved as we were. Thanks for the poetry in memory of her – it really helps.

  9. Moya’s son Ronan has just told me that he and his Dad were very moved by the collection of prose and poetry presented to them from the Hailstone Haiku Circle (with a few pieces from Haiku Ireland also enclosed) as a tribute to our dear late Moya. Amongst the five or six pages was some of the work you see here. As editor, I wish to thank all contributors very much for sharing your sentiment and imagery (on this site and by email) so that the family had some words to treasure. Perhaps poetry can meet this need better than all other forms of expression.

  10. I was stunned and saddened to learn of Moya’s loss– we had only met once, on a memorable winter haiku hike through Arashiyama, and I was struck by her warmth and humor. I wrote a haiku on the day I learned the sad news– I offer it in no way to do her justice, but to add another sequin to the fabric:

    Moya Bligh:
    how she noticed Kyoto’s winter trees,
    their straw cummerbunds.

    The “straw cummerbunds,” Tito explained, are tied to valued trees in winter where the warmth they provide will enable the gardeners to trap insects that might otherwise kill the tree– I’m trying with this poem, in a fumbling way, to express my wish that Moya might have had a similar “charm” of protection.

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