What do you think?
Rate this book
Cricket Songs: Japanese Haiku
A selection of Japanese haiku poetry describing the subtle beauties of nature
64 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1964
2 people are currently reading
59 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
September 26, 2022
A very nice introduction to haiku; well known and lesser known examples are included; a very nice selection that really will help the reader get 'grounded' in this very challenging poetic form (that is so often misunderstood). Anyone wanting to try to write their own haiku will benefit from reading this book.
November 11, 2009
Favorite lines:
1. "Since my house burned down, / I now own a better view / of the rising moon" (Masahide).
2. "After the bells hummed / and were silent, flowers chimed / a peal of fragrance" (Basho).
3. "Broken and broken / again on the sea, the moon / so easily mends" (Chosu).
4. "What a wonderful / day! No one in the village / doing anything" (Shiki).
5. "Lightly a new moon / brushes a silver haiku / on the tips of waves" (Kyoshi).
6. "Whose scarf could this be / but the wind's, thin on the screen / of leaf-gold autumn" (Buson).
1. "Since my house burned down, / I now own a better view / of the rising moon" (Masahide).
2. "After the bells hummed / and were silent, flowers chimed / a peal of fragrance" (Basho).
3. "Broken and broken / again on the sea, the moon / so easily mends" (Chosu).
4. "What a wonderful / day! No one in the village / doing anything" (Shiki).
5. "Lightly a new moon / brushes a silver haiku / on the tips of waves" (Kyoshi).
6. "Whose scarf could this be / but the wind's, thin on the screen / of leaf-gold autumn" (Buson).
May 23, 2025
Boring Part:
Though Basho is supposedly the best Haiku writer of them all, Shiki gave him a run for his money in this little collection. Ran across some names I never had heard of in here, and was sad to see only a few Issa poems included. Overall the selections were excellent, some of the best Haiku are here. Unfortunately the translator made the mistake of attempting to fit all of the poems into 5-7-5 English syllables. I'm confused why this was in the "Youth Collection" at my library, nothing in it was directed explicitly toward children (unless, of course, librarians have internalized the assumption that Haiku = childish).
Fun Part:
Of all poetry, Haiku may lend itself best to ekphrasis, i.e. pairing with artwork, because its compactness allows for more repetition, more mediation, just like visual art does. Sure, you can read a poem straight through and skip on to the next poem, but that just shows that either the poem sucked or that you don't know how to read poetry. Same with art. If you immediately scroll/stroll past (as is required by social media and by the pedestrians behind you in the art gallery), then either it sucked or you don't know how to appreciate art.
But I can't really get mad at people for that. We live in a world averse to meditation, and thus also to poetry, art, and all deep aesthetic experience. We push away the medicine and then complain about feeling sick. Haiku is a lot like Shakespeare: it can heal the soul, but only after study. It's hard to dive headfirst into the Bard, and high schools probably shouldn't even try teaching him at this point. But once you learn to speak his language, which can be (and should be) yours, it's a cooler, deeper well than you'll find in any other media. Likewise with Haiku, it takes time to master this deceptively simple form; but even more frustrating than Shakespeare, which is mostly just a language barrier, Haiku is the exact opposite: it feels too simple. "Poetry can't do that?" we tell ourselves, expecting rhyme, expecting plot, expecting anything more than two images from nature juxtaposed in three lines. But Haiku is deeply dialectical, and the synthesis which emerges from these two theses is found in the silence, in the gap, in exactly what is left unspoken. We froth and rage because the dots aren't explicitly connected like they are in Shakespeare. Gone are the grand soliloquies about universal human hopes and fears. Instead we have a frog plopping into a pond, then the pond going silent, its ripples smoothing out. We aren't spoon fed, so we starve.
In a way, this makes Haiku much more mature than Shakespeare, much more difficult, much more of an art to "understand." But even using logical language like "understand" or "get" is to miss the point. As the Tao Te Ching argues, the emptiness inside the jar is what makes the jar useful. You can't point to the empty air, but that doesn't make it any less important. Haiku tries to teach the same sort of negation-paradoxes that most of Eastern philosophy does. Like Christ's parables, it uses small things to make huge points. Similarly, it upholds childlike innocence and wonder, two things you always annoyingly hear creatives lamenting that they've lost. But instead of trying to "reclaim" it, or somesuch other violence, the only way to return to monke is through not trying. Of course, this grates on the Occidental mind, and unless you hear it enough times it won't click. But the thing about this click is that it's not loud, not remarkable; it's a gentle thing so gentle you don't realize it until it's been "clicked" for a while, like falling into consciousness. I don't remember the moment when I became conscious, but I simply have a few sharp early memories that linger and rot like all dreams and memories do. The best thing to do is to bury them and watch them sprout, not getting overly concerned about their destiny, so long as they give you some new fruits to put in your pocket. You'll need them, because the rest of this, whatever it is, is definitely a journey, and you'll need your strength to make it to the gate at the end. In the meantime, appreciate the nature, and maybe write a few Haiku.
Though Basho is supposedly the best Haiku writer of them all, Shiki gave him a run for his money in this little collection. Ran across some names I never had heard of in here, and was sad to see only a few Issa poems included. Overall the selections were excellent, some of the best Haiku are here. Unfortunately the translator made the mistake of attempting to fit all of the poems into 5-7-5 English syllables. I'm confused why this was in the "Youth Collection" at my library, nothing in it was directed explicitly toward children (unless, of course, librarians have internalized the assumption that Haiku = childish).
Fun Part:
Of all poetry, Haiku may lend itself best to ekphrasis, i.e. pairing with artwork, because its compactness allows for more repetition, more mediation, just like visual art does. Sure, you can read a poem straight through and skip on to the next poem, but that just shows that either the poem sucked or that you don't know how to read poetry. Same with art. If you immediately scroll/stroll past (as is required by social media and by the pedestrians behind you in the art gallery), then either it sucked or you don't know how to appreciate art.
But I can't really get mad at people for that. We live in a world averse to meditation, and thus also to poetry, art, and all deep aesthetic experience. We push away the medicine and then complain about feeling sick. Haiku is a lot like Shakespeare: it can heal the soul, but only after study. It's hard to dive headfirst into the Bard, and high schools probably shouldn't even try teaching him at this point. But once you learn to speak his language, which can be (and should be) yours, it's a cooler, deeper well than you'll find in any other media. Likewise with Haiku, it takes time to master this deceptively simple form; but even more frustrating than Shakespeare, which is mostly just a language barrier, Haiku is the exact opposite: it feels too simple. "Poetry can't do that?" we tell ourselves, expecting rhyme, expecting plot, expecting anything more than two images from nature juxtaposed in three lines. But Haiku is deeply dialectical, and the synthesis which emerges from these two theses is found in the silence, in the gap, in exactly what is left unspoken. We froth and rage because the dots aren't explicitly connected like they are in Shakespeare. Gone are the grand soliloquies about universal human hopes and fears. Instead we have a frog plopping into a pond, then the pond going silent, its ripples smoothing out. We aren't spoon fed, so we starve.
In a way, this makes Haiku much more mature than Shakespeare, much more difficult, much more of an art to "understand." But even using logical language like "understand" or "get" is to miss the point. As the Tao Te Ching argues, the emptiness inside the jar is what makes the jar useful. You can't point to the empty air, but that doesn't make it any less important. Haiku tries to teach the same sort of negation-paradoxes that most of Eastern philosophy does. Like Christ's parables, it uses small things to make huge points. Similarly, it upholds childlike innocence and wonder, two things you always annoyingly hear creatives lamenting that they've lost. But instead of trying to "reclaim" it, or somesuch other violence, the only way to return to monke is through not trying. Of course, this grates on the Occidental mind, and unless you hear it enough times it won't click. But the thing about this click is that it's not loud, not remarkable; it's a gentle thing so gentle you don't realize it until it's been "clicked" for a while, like falling into consciousness. I don't remember the moment when I became conscious, but I simply have a few sharp early memories that linger and rot like all dreams and memories do. The best thing to do is to bury them and watch them sprout, not getting overly concerned about their destiny, so long as they give you some new fruits to put in your pocket. You'll need them, because the rest of this, whatever it is, is definitely a journey, and you'll need your strength to make it to the gate at the end. In the meantime, appreciate the nature, and maybe write a few Haiku.
February 3, 2024
What a gem to find on a dollar shelf of the thrift shop down the road from my daughter's new home. I am a haiku junkie and finding this set of translated poems with these gorgeous illustrations felt like a hug from the universe. I also adored Behn's description of haiku: "A haiku is a poem in the three lines of five, then seven, then five syllables. It is made by speaking of something natural and simple. There is no rhyme. Everything mentioned is just what it is, wonderful, here, but still beyond. Sometimes we all make such poems and hardly think about it. The best are as natural as breathing."
Here are a few of my favorites:
Behind me the moon
brushes a shadow of pines
on the floor lightly. -Kikaku
Lightly a new moon
brushes a silver haiku
on the tips of waves. -Kyoshi
After the bells hummed
and were silent, flowers chimed
a peal of fragrance. -Basho
Turning from watching
the moon, my comfortable old
shadow led me home. - Shiki
Here are a few of my favorites:
Behind me the moon
brushes a shadow of pines
on the floor lightly. -Kikaku
Lightly a new moon
brushes a silver haiku
on the tips of waves. -Kyoshi
After the bells hummed
and were silent, flowers chimed
a peal of fragrance. -Basho
Turning from watching
the moon, my comfortable old
shadow led me home. - Shiki
January 3, 2021
Something so calming about curling up with these poems, on a cold afternoon in the year 2021...
March 21, 2020
This is a nice, but very tiny haiku book. I enjoyed the ancient Japanese illustrations but wished they were in color. Best poems by Basho.
March 7, 2013
I enjoy haiku.
Some nice translated Japanese haiku. I wish he didn't say Haiku was 5-7-5 because it's not true.
It's usually shorter then that in Japanese, and more of a snapshot poem, often with a counterpoint.
Two favorites:
What a wonderful
Day! No one in the village
Doing anything.
- Shiki
When Spring is gone, none
Will so grumpily grumble
as these chirping frogs.
- Yayu
Read again. Wonder if it's translated to get a 5-7-5 form.
Some nice translated Japanese haiku. I wish he didn't say Haiku was 5-7-5 because it's not true.
It's usually shorter then that in Japanese, and more of a snapshot poem, often with a counterpoint.
Two favorites:
What a wonderful
Day! No one in the village
Doing anything.
- Shiki
When Spring is gone, none
Will so grumpily grumble
as these chirping frogs.
- Yayu
Read again. Wonder if it's translated to get a 5-7-5 form.
August 29, 2007
There are some real gems in this book, artfully translated so as to keep the haiku syllable structure (5-7-5) intact. My favorite:
Broken and broken
again on the sea, the moon
so easily mends.
-- Chosu
Broken and broken
again on the sea, the moon
so easily mends.
-- Chosu
February 13, 2011
A nice slim volume of haiku - not a stellar collection but a great slow and meditative read.
Here's one of my favorites in the book by Basho (p.60):
Watching the full moon,
a small hungry boy forgets
to eat his supper.
Here's one of my favorites in the book by Basho (p.60):
Watching the full moon,
a small hungry boy forgets
to eat his supper.
Want to Read
December 22, 2011just have to share this one poem i ran across - p.13 of the 1964 edition - it really took me by surprise. haven't seen this personification before.
Behind me the moon
brushes a shadow of pines
lightly on the floor.
-KIKAKU
Behind me the moon
brushes a shadow of pines
lightly on the floor.
-KIKAKU
May 19, 2009
There are more nuanced translations out there for some of these classics. Nonetheless, Behn has put together an easily accessible, crisp, collection.
August 29, 2011
beautiful collection of poems
October 22, 2012
The haikus in this book are beautiful. They are relaxing and fun to read.
October 24, 2012
This book has beautiful haikus full of descriptive words and lots of voice.
July 30, 2013
I always love the simplicity of a haiku and the depth of the meaning each carries.
January 10, 2017
simple, beautiful
October 3, 2018
A short collection of Japanese haiku. Simple and charming.
Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews