Summer, almost spent

燕くろの雛育ち行き巣はもぬけ
All the swallow chicks
Have flown away this morning —
Their nest abandoned.

睡蓮の葉から飛び込む蛙かな
From a floating leaf
Of water lily, one frog
Springs into the pond.

自ずから句は成るものぞ夕涼み
This haiku, not so much
‘Made’ as ‘born’, as if my child —
One cool summer eve.

朝早く桜の幹を蝉登る
Silently at dawn,
Cicadas begin to climb
A cherry-tree trunk.

雷雲の朝から育つ今日もまた
Thunderheads begin
To grow from early morning —
Like yesterday again.

良き友と氷河を語り夏忘れ
I have a good friend —
We talk about glaciers
To forget the heat.

風呂上り団扇使いつ一休み
Hopping out of the bath,
I cool my naked body
With a big round fan.

花火あぐ時刻に合わせ雷雨かな
At the very hour
When fireworks are expected…
Thunderstorm sets in!

Wind & Rain: a ryōgin renga composed on a typhoon walk in Asuka

15 August, 2023, during お盆 Obon, the Festival of the Dead. Typhoon Lan (No. 7) is ploughing straight through Kansai from the south.

Awake to a poetic opportunity, two Hailstone poets living in Nara prefecture, Jeanne (French) and Tito (British), decide to take a walk together in Asuka, the sixth-to-seventh century capital of Japan, but now a village. Out in the elements for three hours, they encounter not a single other soul, seeing just a couple of distant cars. One poet’s umbrella breaks in a frantic gust atop Miyakozuka Tumulus*. Another, reaching for a flower, gets electrocuted by a live wire fence! Elsewhere, a snake is sighted in a tree above the poets’ heads!

Later, suitably soaked and battered, but feeling full of joy, at a table in Tito’s house they compile a 両吟 ryōgin (two poet) renga from some of the verses that they have scribbled down in rain-blotched notebooks. Each stanza holds an implicit link with its predecessor. Six of the verses are Jeanne’s; seven are Tito’s. It doesn’t matter which.

.

…… Wind and rain –
…… a sparrow hops around
…… in the tomato plant

…………………….. A heavy downpour
…………………….. has brightened the kaki* leaves

…… This L of typhoon water –
…… a board in the channel*
…… diverts it on its way

…………………….. Line attached to tiled gable:
…………………….. the empty veranda

…… Noon, announced with music* –
…… the snail on the boulder
…… starts to move

…………………….. Raindrops on the paddy …
…………………….. leaving quiet rings

…… The nearest ridge line –
…… bamboos wave
…… playing with the wind

…………………….. To and from a sake jar
…………………….. one small crab*!

…… Opening the lattice door …
…… a red Jizo team
…… and their lantern-flower ball*

…………………….. Thoroughly soaked
…………………….. the harebells’ heads are bowed

…… Its lid ajar,
…… a great stone coffin –
…… the gale blows outside

…………………….. The leaping frog now guides us
…………………….. along the water-covered path

…… She stands in rubber boots:
…… both green and golden cherry leaves*
…… at her feet

.
*Notes:
Miyakozuka Kofun – said to be the tomb of Soga Iname (506-570).
kaki – persimmon.
channel – Asuka has an ancient network of suirō, or irrigation channels.
music – through loudspeakers located around the village, a brief snatch of a traditional tune is broadcast daily at midday.
crab – Japanese freshwater crab, sawagani, is reddish and appears on country paths and roads on rainy days.
lantern-flower – hōzuki, a late summer flower resembling a small orange paper lantern; as the stone statues of Jizō (a bodhisattva protecting dead children) were all wearing red bibs, they looked somewhat like a football team inside a little wooden shrine; the flower, placed before them as an offering at Obon time.
green and golden cherry leaves – the cherry tree is the first to show a few yellow autumn tints; regardless, the storm has blown down leaves of both colours.

Urban Ginko V – Nakazaki-cho, Osaka

A haiku composition stroll, or 吟行 ginko, is about opening yourself to the surroundings, quietly observing, turning over images in your mind till you get a form of words that seems well-balanced, resonant. Twenty of us came together last Sunday (July 2nd) in 中崎町 Nakazaki-cho, a small area of un-bombed, un-developed urban Osaka, largely dating to the early Showa era, up to and around the time of the Second World War, and just a stone’s throw away from Umeda Station. Houses are tiny, mainly wooden; lanes are narrow; neighbourhoods are friendly… and now feature all kinds of unusual clothes shops, cafes, alternative start-ups, and student hangouts. Haiku poets strolled around with open notebooks in between youngsters out on dates.

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This was Hailstone’s fifth purpose-made ‘Urban Ginko’ in the past fifteen years (the third to be held in Osaka, with one each in Kyoto and Kobe). In a tiny park, Tito welcomed poets and then appealed to them to ‘cut the cackle’ and try to give each other a bit of silence, in which to conceive and give birth to poems. We then fanned out, in all directions, through Nakazaki-cho, practising our art in ones and twos on a hot, breezy day. After eighty minutes or so, we converged on the second floor of Taiyo-no-To Green West Café, sited in a leafy alley close by the railway arches coming out of Central Osaka. There, we held a very enjoyable 朗読会 rodokukai, or poetry reading. A few of us went on to have a drink and a meal outside, discussing season words (Hangesho and octopus amongst them). We watched dusk begin to gather, as unceasingly the people of Osaka streamed by.

Thanks go to the organizers, including Kyoko Matsudai, whose confidence in guiding us to and from the area apparently warranted five reconnaissance missions, and Mizuho Shibuya, who was on the very first Urban Ginko we held back in 2007. Also, to Akishige Ida, who suggested the intriguing venue.

In no special order, here is a small selection of the haiku and haiqua composed that day. Which ones do you like best? Please leave a comment and tell us. We will divulge the names of poets in another month. If you were there, you may remember some of these from the café reading?  [3 Aug. ’23: names of poets and no. of comments votes have now been divulged! All poets who had a haiku of theirs featured in this report should feel encouraged… and all of these subsequently had their haiku favourably mentioned in one or more comments left here. Thanks to all who bothered to comment on our poems or on the ginko report itself. We certainly got a lot this time! Much appreciated.]

Young entrepreneurs—
please guard them from hard times,
White Dragon* of the shrine  [Akishige, 3 mentions]

corner sweetshop—
with time to ripen
green bananas hang  [Teruko, 5]

Back alley
summer afternoon:
Kewpie dolls*
made in America [Tomiko, 2]

Neighbourhood rights—
the gaffer hangs his laundry
above the cat massage caff*  [Tito, 2]

A doorway just
forty centimetres wide:
July breeze
lifts its fairy noren*  [Tito, 11]

Backstreet art academy
… and I meet a flying whale!*  [Jeanne, 2]

Between buildings
falling from the sky,
a lush vine-covered wall  [Jeanne, 2]

retro coffee shop—
on the amber glass of water
summer’s slanting rays  [Mizuho, 4]

sweltering afternoon—
the couple stoop to eye
the streetside menu  [Akihiko, 2]

yawning pose
of a mannequin in hoodie—
languid summer sky  [Akihiko, 4]

Che Guevara
on the faded wall:
at what is he still
sternly gazing?  [Ayako, 3]

Three red arrows lead
to the ‘White Dragon Shrine’*—
green summer shadow  [Ayako, 1]

quaint old homes
far from urban din—
buttercup-lined alley  [Mayumi K, 3]

“retro” street …
she might turn up any time,
my high school love  [Akira, 6]

two foreign friends
shimmer on ahead—
melting power cables  [Anna, 1]

busy sweet potato café*:
pressed against
the upstairs window
a grandma’s face  [Margarite, 6]

on side streets
in this small town
teenagers in full bloom  [Duro, 3]
.

* Notes:

White Dragon Shrine – Hakuryu-okami, a tiny Shinto shrine, found at the end of an alley, whose serpentine deity is thought to give blessings galore;
kewpie dolls – infant Cupids, popularized in Japan by having been used as the icon of the most famous mayonnaise brand;
cat massage caff – a café in which customers can stroke cats kept there for the purpose;
noren – stylish cut curtain lintel dressings made of cloth;
flying whale – this reduced-size model of a whale was spied suspended under an open roof;
sweet potato café – specializing in confectioneries made of satsumaimo.

Arrival

Half moon, insect song —-
one small, lustrous cricket
joins our dinner table

Travel-weary is how I felt as we began to unpack boxes in our new house. Yet from the veranda, where we were soon hanging out our washing, there’s a glad prospect out across to distant Mt. Katsuragi, birthplace of En no Ozunu (1), with the gracefully curving gables of Tachibana Temple (2) rising out of the foreground green-gold rice terraces just across the Asuka Stream. I recall the taste of ‘arrival’ savoured on so many rough journeys in India and the Middle East; how one would check into a backpackers’ lodge after thirty-six or forty-eight hours on the move and ask for a room with a view. The effects of moving house after so many years feels strangely similar to the aftermath of long, sleepless, jolting rides on Afghan trucks or Laotian buses. Asuka (3), where I now live, is right up with all those nicely underdeveloped Asian travel destinations of yore.

The occasional couple appears pushing their rented bikes up the slope towards our house, and then past it, on their way enjoying the shadows cast on the lane by the unkempt grove of Okamoto-tei, a deserted, ramshackle property once apparently famed for its literary parties and its waterwheel.

I place a glass of water on an improvised stool and gaze out sighing, acknowledging to myself that all the ancient lithic sites (4) are now arrayed nearby, that the charming rolling scenery of Manyō (5) hills already encircles us with its greens and blues, and that tonight will be immaculately silent apart from the gurgle of irrigation water and the field crickets’ tintinnabulations. So, why not rest here for a few days, then? A new place before journeying on.

One red flower on the hibiscus. The afternoon is hot. Butterflies, damselflies, dragonflies visit—a magic seems to well.

Just then, a sharp wind comes down from the peak of Tōnomine (6) and I notice the black clouds behind me and sense a heavy rain. Potsu-potsu fall the first drops onto the veranda roof …

September lightning—
the compass-points
around our house,
each receives a bolt!

(Oka, Asuka, completed 12.9.22)

Notes:
1. En no Ozunu, the seventh century mountain ascetic and founder of Shugendō religion; Mt. Katsuragi itself will be climbed by Hailstone haiku hikers on Oct. 8 this year.
2. Birthplace of Shōtoku Taishi, the late sixth century imperial regent-statesman, who ensured that Buddhism took root in Japan.
3. Ancient capital of Japan ca. 538-710.
4. Sakafune-ishi, Ishibutai, Mara-ishi, Kame-ishi, Nimenseki, and so on; Asuka is famed for its mysterious ancient stones.
5. Manyōshū, the first great anthology of Japanese poetry, compiled early in the eighth century, mentions a number of such mountains—Miwa, Otowa, Amanokagu, Amakashi, Unebi, Miminashi, Katsuragi, Nijō, etc., all of which can be seen from Asuka.
6. Site of Danzan Jinja, shrine and spiritual resting place of Fujiwara Kamatari, the seventh century statesman and founder of the Fujiwara clan.

Water Haiku: falling, swallowing, rising

梅雨出水渓を転がる石の音
Flooded by the rain,
Stones rolling down the valley
With muffled voices.

猛暑来て水腹苦し食は枯れ
A heatwave arrives—
By drinking too much water
My appetite is lost.

猛暑来て浴びてみたしや滝飛沫
A waterfall spray—
How I yearn to bathe in it
In this hot season!

ナイヤガラ奈落に落ちて空に舞う
Niagara Falls—
Falling into an abyss,
Rising to heaven.

Sosui = Nobuyuki Yuasa. Haiku composed in June 2022 at Nakamurada, Gunma

Of Mangoes and the Sea Breeze

Here are a few haiku from the long summer in the seaside city of Chennai, South India. ……. (Geethanjali Rajan)
.

summer dawn
many songs
from the Asian Koel

left-overs
from the squirrel’s feast
scent of ripe mangoes

sultry noon
the fan’s groans
punctuate snores

the jasmine leaf
is a baby praying mantis
evening stillness

orange dusk
the gentle swish
of coconut fronds

end of summer –
the sound of the waves
in my conch

from the Icebox inbox – 51

Happy 2022, dear readers!

It’s about time to gather some of the more resonant offerings posted as comments at our current Submissions page. Thank you for sending them in.

summer noon —
the sound of cowbells
outside my home

.. Mira, India

purple loosestrife
stillness of a heron
in autumn sun

.. John Parsons, UK

a grey heron
walks magnificently …
flies off
with a metallic sound

.. Yoshiharu Kondo, Japan

twilight in Salamanca —
a cacophony of birds
all the way home

.

between mossed trees
white turn arrow on asphalt
points to the moon

.. Sydney Solis, Spain

Colorful silk thread
Thrown across the vast sky —
Dusk’s weaving wheel

.. Sowmya Hiremat, India

How swift the seasons!

It was winter when I last posted on Icebox, and in what seems the blink of an eye it’s October already! Let me share three haiku spanning this summer and autumn.

Cicadas’
cacophony—a song of
blistering skin

Sweet-smelling grass,
a tiny brown frog leaps
among it all

Paddies at dusk,
crows flee a rising
gibbous moon

And finally, a light-hearted non-seasonal haiku inspired by a statue in a park. (A “tribute” to what birds do best!)

Brave man in bronze
white-lipped, mute to
the birds’ disrespect

Haiku from The Tokyo 2020 Olympics

We had 兼題 (suggested topic) at both of the Hailstone English Haiku seminars in August: ‘Olympic sports’. As they watched on their TV sets, poets in both Kyoto and Osaka composed haiku and haiqua on athletics, swimming, cycling, skateboard, gymnastics, surfing, karate, table tennis, baseball, sports climbing, and so forth. To celebrate the Games’ conclusion, here’s a small selection of them after slight 添削 (tweaking).

August sun —
beckoning deities to her chest
her hop step  j  u  m  p! (KY)

Tattooed eagle
on the Olympian’s arm
cleaves the water —
the final length (YA)

peeking over
the ping-pong table
a tiny girl’s happy face —
training for the Olympics (TY)

Neptune’s billow
brings the surfer to …
glory on the beach (HS)

a climber, hung
upside down
poised for the next move …
sweat beads on her cheeks (AK)

To watch the bobbing heads
of BMX cyclists …
illegal crowd
on a distant bridge (T)

Kyoto Isshu Trail Haike VI

Typhoon weather forced postponement of our Kyoto Circuit Mountain Trail haiku hike from Aug. 9 to 10. Until that typhoon, we had had daily highs of 37-38C and the day after the haike we entered a period of unrelenting rains, so the 10th turned out to be a blissful window of fair weather, cooler and drier than anything on either side. Postponement, however, meant that we lost a couple of haikers (haiku hikers) to other commitments. Sorry for that.

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On the day, 5 haikers headed out from Keage Station in Higashiyama via Himukai Jinja, said to be one of Kyoto’s oldest shrines, a kind of mini-Ise for those who cannot get there. Near the entrance, we came across a friendly jewel beetle, tamamushi, who seemed to want to come along with us. We all walked through the slender Amano’iwatoya Cave and thence on and up through mountain woods towards a still-hidden skyline. The soundtrack to our walk was most beguiling. There was even a horagai-blower.

In a tall cypress forest,
pine twigs scattered
by yesterday’s storm
………. Tito

somewhere
among these hot hills
the sound of a conch
………. David McCullough

Like dewdrops below
Kyoto streets are glittering —
summer realization
………. Akihiko Hayashi

Cicadas and birds —
on a cool mountain breeze
their music melds
………. Margarite Westra

from the top of Mount Daimonji
my primal scream
over Kyoto
………. Duro Jaiye

The panorama from the summit of Daimonjiyama (466m) was superb – much of Kyoto, most of Osaka, a suspicion of the Inland Sea, Mts. Atago, Ikoma, Kongo, and even the cloud-capped Omine Range beyond Yoshino.

On the steep descent, we came upon a refreshing cascade at the head of Shishigatani Valley. After a brief stop there, we walked down into the vale as the sun began to set.

An impromptu haiku sharing was later held in a cafe near Ginkakuji. Deep red shiso (perilla) soda was its long, cool accompaniment. We look forward to seeing some of you on the Trail again for Part VII this autumn.

A Parcel of Plums

Dear Stephen and Kazue-san,

The season of our plum harvest has returned.

Due to the rain and our delay at harvesting, some of the ripened ones may be bruised. Sorry for that. We selected those relatively young and green to avoid the above mishaps. Please water-wash their surface before taking a bite.

Akira and Shigeko, the residents of Rakuki-sha (落李舎)


Sleepless night,
another impact on the ground …
Ah, the ripened plums!