In a Station of the Metro

Everyone knows what a haiku is, or at least they think they do. It’s got something to do with syllables, maybe it’s supposed to be in Japanese, but mostly many of us have never read a haiku that wasn’t something silly:

            One shark said to the

other when eating a clown

fish: this tastes funny.

I mean, what on earth is that!? Courtesy of “WikiHow: How to Write a Haiku Poem.” But since I’ve been in Japan and I’ve taken the time to dive into Japanese poetry—mostly because why wouldn’t I make an excuse to read poetry instead of working a day job—I’ve come to understand the form and see it’s real beauty. A haiku is not just five syllables followed by seven and followed by five. In fact, like a sonnet or any other form poetry, the form can be broken a million times over and still be a haiku. What a haiku is instead is a poem that intensifies a kind of expression, which in the simplest and most direct way reaches a new association between images. Haikus are very often about nature, or the human impression of nature, and connect two things with a sense of wonder. Reading a good haiku is like having a mini epiphany. It is like stumbling across the best line of a novel, or the most enchanting moment of a song.

Traditionally the form included rules about the inclusion of seasonal clues and hints, a word that would specify the time of year, and pauses at the end of the first or second line. The form was not simply five, seven, five in syllables but more specific to the Japanese language and verse—which we all know can’t be the same as English and English poetic devices. (Actually the sound units counted can get quite complicated. If you’re interested in researching them more, please turn to the internet. I’m not an expert of analysis, just a lover of reading poetry). And on top of all of that it was written in the present tense, as if suddenly illuminated is the world for this moment if you can catch it.

An old pond!

A frog jumps in—

the sound of water.

That haiku, translated from the original Japanese, was written by the first poet to write in the haiku form, Matsuo Basho. So what does all this mean or matter? It just means and matters whatever you want it to, and for me it means giving a little more time to haikus and matters in the way we look for truth in the world. Poetry in general does this, but what I think that haikus do that is special is that they require a cutting away of all the extra crap. Haikus are read in one breath, haikus are moments of enlightenment put into 17 nano-moments, and carved out of words that have to do double or triple duty. I would like to see every poet write a good haiku, to prove to themselves that they can write a successful poem. And if you’re a poet, you’ll understand me. I’ve yet to write a good one. So with that said, I’m not sure I have more to say anyway, here are a few of my favorite haikus.

In a Station of the Metro – Ezra Pound

            The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

            Petals on a wet, black bough.

           

            Masaoka Shiki

            Consider me

            As one who loved poetry

            And persimmons.

            Yosa Buson

            Before the white chrysanthemum

            the scissors hesitate--

            a moment.

*This just in: Japanese kids learn Matsuo Basho’s poem “An old pond!” in school and remember it because everyone should be able to recite at least one poem by heart (so haikus are short, still great). Also I have it from the bilingual opinion of Yuu Kurashima that it’s just not the same when it’s not in Japanese…so there’s that. (And every single website has a different translation of it and I picked what I thought was the best one, but I suppose that's quite subjective.)

**Up Next on Gaijin Kid: Yoyogi Park Short Fiction by me.