אומרי שיר על סף המוות: מבחר שירים יפניים ומסת מבוא

by Yoel Hoffmann, יואל הופמן

Although the consciousness of death is in most cultures very much a part of life, this is perhaps nowhere more true than in Japan, where the approach of death has given rise to a centuries-old tradition of writing jisei, or the "death poem." Such a poem is often written in the very last moments of the poet's life.

Hundreds of Japanese death poems, many with a commentary describing the circumstances of the poet's death, have been translated into English here, the great majority of them for the first time. Yoel Hoffmann explores the attitudes and customs surrounding death in historical and present-day Japan, and gives examples of how these have been reflected in the nation's literature in general. The development of writing jisei is then examined - from the poems of longing of the early nobility and the more "masculine" verses of the samurai to the satirical death poems of later centuries. Zen Bhuddist ideas about death are also described as a preface to the collection of Chinese death poems by Zen monks that are also included. Finally, three hundred twenty haiku are presented in English translation and romanized in Japanese.

Genres: Poetry, Japan, Philosophy, Japanese Literature, Nonfiction, Death, Buddhism

256 pages, Unknown Binding

First published January 1, 1985

About the author

Yoel Hoffmann (23 June 1937– 25 August 2023) was an Israeli Jewish contemporary author, editor, scholar and translator.

Reviews

[E. G. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Acknowledgments
Preface
Introduction, by Yoel Hoffmann
Note on the Poems

--Death Poems by Zen Monks
--Death Poems by Haiku Poets

Notes
Bibliographical Notes
Index of Poetic Terms
General Index

[Derek · Rating 5 out of 5]

Yakuo Tokuken wrote, "The words of a man before he dies are no small matter. This is a barrier that all must pass through." Ryuho also said that Only a man's years can teach him the art of detachment and ultimate departure.
Apt words. Apt words indeed. I think that's the main idea of this book, detachment and the enlightenment of 'ultimate departure.' So much dread and despair and uncertainty hangs around the notion of death that it's paralyzing. This book demystifies death, it's a journey. Are these Zen Buddhists certain of where they're going? Probably not, but they don't make a fuss about it. They embrace it, as death surely should be. I think everyone should give this book a read. It'll change your life.

Here a couple of my favourite death poems:

"if you have vanquished your selfhood, coolness will rise even from the fire"
-- Kaisen Shoki

Empty-handed I entered the world
Barefoot I leave it.
My coming, my going --
Two simple happenings
That got entangled.
-- Kozan Ichikyo

Life is like a cloud of mist
emerging from a mountain cave
and death
a floating moon
in its celestial course.
if you think too much
about the meaning they may have
you'll be bound Forever
like an ass to a stake.
-- Mumon Gensen

He who comes knows only his coming
he who goes knows only his end
to be saved from the chasm
why cling to the cliff?
clouds floating low
never know where the breezes will blow them.
-- Sengai Gibon

I came into the world after Buddha.
I leave the world before Miroku.
Between the Buddha of the beginning
and the Buddha of the end
I am not born, I do not die.
-- Ungo Kiyo

On a journey, ill:
my dream goes wandering
over withered fields
-- Basho

My one wish
is to live in the capital
of non-action
-- Kibai

A journey of no return:
the wanderer's sack is
bottomless
-- Kyoshu

I came from nowhere and go nowhere

Moon in a barrel;
you never know just when
the bottom will fall out.
-- Mabutsu

I cleansed the mirror
of my heart -- now it reflects
the moon.
-- Renseki

Like dewdrops
on a lotus leaf
I vanish
-- Senryu

Yesterday, it was hibiscus
today, my life is
morning glory
-- Shohaku

festival of souls:
yesterday I hosted them
today I am a guest
-- Sofu

Spitting blood
clears up reality
and dream alike.
-- Sunao

The moon leaks out
from sleeves of cloud
and scatters shadows
-- Tanko

[Eliza · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beautifully tragic.

[Robert Bickers · Rating 5 out of 5]

(This is my favorite poetry collection, eclipsing even Uncle Shelby. Yes, they are different in style and purpose, but the vessel is the same.)

More than a book of tanka, Hoffman's collection informs the reader about both the writers of the poems and the philosophical world they inhabit. (Since they are overwhelmingly Zen, I'll stick with the present tense.) JDP begins with an overview of the wide variety of Zen poetry and the Zen understanding of enlightenment. This includes examples from both famous poets and heretofore unknown authors, lovers and thinkers, priests and philosophers.

After this lengthy intro, Hoffman presents a collection of monastic poems. Many of these date from the moment of death, showing the incredible self-awareness of the writers. There is little hesitation or bitterness; the monks view death as part of life, to be embraced rather than feared.

The third, and longest, section is devoted to secular poets. Rather, given the intertwined nature of Zen and daily life, professional poets. Not all of these poems are from the moment of death, but all ruminate on the nature of life and the purpose of death. Each is presented in English alongside the phonetic Japanese, allowing the reader to understand the flow of both the words and the ideas.

The poems themselves are carefully curated, presenting both positive and negative perspectives and ranging from carefully planned to improvisational. All are thought-provoking, some owing to their philosophical complexity, others due to their superficial simplicity. Collected together, they are magnificent.

This book is not for the passive enjoyer of light verse. Rather, it is for those who dive into the briefest of texts in search of greater meaning. The writers collected here are easily counted among the deepest divers, even as their verse seems to skim across the waves.

[Jonathan Peto · Rating 3 out of 5]

I bought this collection of poems a few years ago but had not got around to reading it yet. My grandmother passed away at 95 years old on December 19th. She lived a long time and remained at her home, by herself, since my grandfather’s passing almost twenty years ago. Her death was not a surprise, even, it seemed, to her. She spent her last day with some cousins and my mother, finished her lunch at a restaurant and payed for it (a birthday gift for my mother). As usual, she waved from the door of her home as my mother pulled out of the driveway in her car. The next day she did not answer the phone, so my uncle checked in on her. She was lying peacefully in bed with her feet on a pillow and her clothes laid out for the next day, the door of her house locked and everything very tidy. Very Zen, Grandma, I thought, and pulled this book off the shelf.

Grandma was not actually a Zen practitioner, but I believe the monks would give her credit. If she had been Japanese, she probably would have composed a haiku before putting her feet up, or at least that’s my impression of her last moments.

The book has three parts. First is an essay about the “cultural history” of death and poetry in Japan. I didn’t expect to enjoy the essay, but it was relatively painless and informative. I’m not a newbie to the topic, so that may have made it more palatable, that and my grandmother’s recent death, but the pages flew. Basically, in Japan, there’s a tradition of writing a farewell poem at or near death. To do it within minutes or days of death requires an impressive amount of meta-awareness. The middle section contains death poems by Zen monks, which are not haiku, and the final, longest section contains death poems that are haiku. The haiku poets are generally not monks. There are also short explanations and background about many of the poems and poets.

The poems, even the haiku, share the worldview of the monks, in that they all write about their imminent deaths with a Buddhist sense of transition, calm, oneness, and acceptance. The haiku use seasonal images and symbols to create layers of meaning that form a tradition or ritual way of facing death. It is inspiring, I think, because it results in peacefulness anchored with images of nature, but you may be disappointed if you are looking for deep, complicated philosophical explanations and schemes that will enlighten you.

The poems include the poet’s ages at death and the year. That actually had an effect on me, because the poems are arranged alphabetically by name so the deaths range back and forth over many centuries. Somehow, as I read, that collapsed time for me in a way I liked. Unfortunately though, this many poems eventually got tiring and the explanations grew weary and repetitive. Although each poem seemed an effective way for someone to cap their life, they became a little monotonous all at once.

Here are a few of the poems:

By Ensei, 1725 (p. 160)

A parting gift to my body:
just when it wishes,
I’ll breathe my last.


By Gitoku, 1754 (p. 172)

Clear sky -
the way I came by once
I now go back.


By Joseki, 1779 (p. 207)

This must be
my birthday there
in paradise


By Ransetsu, 1707 (p. 260)

One leaf lets go, and
then another takes
the wind.


By Saruo, 1923 (p. 277)

Cherry blossoms fall
on a half-eaten
dumpling.

[Theresa · Rating 5 out of 5]

In my line of work I meet a lot of people who are close to death. In some cases, they have been in a state of declining health for years, yet in all that time they have not confronted the reality of the end of life, either within themselves or with their loved ones. In an antidote to the American habit of denying death, Yoel Hoffman has compiled a collection of Japanese poetry written by monks and haiku artists at the end of their lives, a reflection of a non-Western culture in which death is accepted and discussed/celebrated in the company of others. He has written a scholarly but readable preface which describes how the practice of writing death poems is conducted in various cultural traditions of Japan. Overall an enlightening and moving read.

[Philemon - · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've been on Goodreads for under three weeks and am already finding and dipping into books I'd never heard of. What fun I'm having.

This one acquaints me with the ancient (since 7th c.) Japanese tradition of leaving poems as parting statements at the time of death. That many of the deaths in the first section are the self-inflicted outcomes of seppuku lends a grisly cast. A second section contains the less grisly goodbyes of monks, while the third offers a haiku miscellany, including legendary Basho's last, from Nov. 24, 1694, the day he left this world at age fifty-one.

I must confess to being initially underwhelmed by some of these farewell tankas and haikus as given here. It's hard to know whether the fault lies with translation that often doesn't even bother to count the syllables, or perhaps {who knows?) the tradition itself may not always have demanded or inspired the highest artistry in words and image. The little histories given with each poem suggest that many may have been composed on the spot, perhaps during the author's final minutes. It may be that in many cases simply performing the last-poem action in one's death's ceremony may have sufficed. For many, nothing strikingly novel in the use of traditional images like plum blossoms, cicadas, and the Pure Land journey was called for. But who am I, a westerner, to judge and try to balance novelty vs. convention in an ancient culture I can't hope ever to understand?

On a second reading, though, my inner critic is silenced and I am moved by each and every of these cries and sighs.

Basho's own last haiku does not disappoint, though this book's translator doesn't do it justice:

On a journey, ill:
My dream goes wandering
over withered fields.

Here's a better version, by David Bowles:

Ill on a journey,
Through desolate fields my dreams
Aimlessy wander.

And here's my own, somewhat licentious version:

Now journeying, ill;
My dream burns on, fluttering
Over stubbled fields.

[Michael]

All last words should be poetry...

[Mesoscope · Rating 4 out of 5]

An extensive collection of death poems by Zen monks and haiku poets with an introduction and commentary. The translations are mostly pretty good, although sometimes Hoffmann tries to hard, I think, to get the sense across to people who know absolutely nothing about Japanese culture - I winced seeing the Buddha Amitabha rendered as "God" in one line.

There is something a bit performative about this genre, and it's hard to know, as Hoffmann is the first to say in his introduction, how many of these really convey some sort of end-of-life epiphany or deep sense, and how many were composed years in advance. Nonetheless, the collection was interesting and worth while. A few of my favorites:

The owner of the cherry blossoms
turns into compost
for the trees.
- Utsu

Look straight ahead. What’s there?
If you see it as it is
You will never err.
- Bassui Tokusho

I have gone through
this world - a life
of moon and snow and flowers.
- Sharyu

[sharkysyd]

japanese culture is so cool
loved learning more about how they view death

inhale & exhale
forward and back
living, dying

[Books on Asia · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of those invaluable books for anyone interested in Japanese culture as well as poetry. The lengthy introduction alone is important for the plethora of information on Japan's history of poetry and the death poem. From tanka to haiku, written by princes, court nobles, samurai, Buddhist monks and priests, the death poem became a widespread practice among the common people in the Meiji Period (1868-1912). Kamikaze pilots and officers in the Japanese Army all wrote them too.

The title of the book may imply that the poems are morbid, but this is not the case. In Japan, where life is often compared to a flower that soon withers, you can be assured that death is a journey at the end of which we all become enlightened. The poems tend to focus on nature, the change of seasons, and Buddhist imagery. Some are intentionally light and humorous. Others will take your breath away:

Moon in the water
Somersaults
and streams away.

—by Oshima Ryota (1718-87)

Hakuro's death poem imitates Bashō, and poet and Zen master Ikkyu (of whom the text notes "avoided neither taverns nor brothels, and he never held his tongue") penned his at the ripe age of 88 and asks, "Where is he who understands my Zen?" A good number of the poems are followed by explanations of poetic phrases and minutiae which help the reader understand the meaning.

The book is divided into three parts: the very thorough Introduction, Death Poems by Zen Monks, and Death Poems by Haiku Poets.

Between the covers of this book, you'll find the death poems of Yamato Teru no Mikoto (hero of the Kojiki), Hitomaro (from the Man'yōshū), the poet priest Saigyo (1118-90), Taira no Tadanori (1144-84) of the Heike Monogatari, Yosa Buson (1716-83), Kobayashi Issa (1763-83), Hokusai who died in 1849 (37 Views of Mt. Fuji), and oh so many more. You'll discover plenty of other figures through their last words on life, enough to make you want to know more about them.

The book includes a valuable Index of Poetic Terms as well as a General Index.

Note: This book was rated one of the "Top 12 Books Read in 2020" by reviewers at Books on Asia: https://booksonasia.net/2020/12/14/ou...

[Rosamund Taylor · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've been reading this book since August, and have found a lot of solace, insight and beauty within its pages. People keep making fun of me for reading a book of Death Poems before bed, but it's honestly been a huge comfort to me.

This book consists of three sections: a long introduction, discussing the history and practice of writing death poems, and what such poems meant to the people who wrote them. Then there is a section of death poems written by Zen monks, which are usually five- or six-line poems, often directly discussing Buddhism or enlightenment. The longest section by far is the last, which contains the death poems of haiku poets from Basho onwards. The haiku appear in English with cross translation of Japanese written phonetically in English, and are often glossed with some details about the poet's life or explanations of references in the poem.

I loved the last section of this book, and found myself returning to poems again and again. The poems are not all of equal quality -- some of them are by people who are not well-known poets, or not poets at all, and some poems return to the same images again and again -- the "world of dew", the morning-glory, the boat crossing the river, all feature multiple times. But some poems elevate even these tired images, and some poems feel utterly unique and create a moment of great insight.

Quoted below are two of my favourite poems from this collection:

The running stream
is cool -- the pebbles
underfoot.

--Chiboku, 1740

I cast the brush aside --
from here on I'll speak to the moon
face to face.

--Koha, 1897

[Q · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reread 2019 first read 2000

Zen monks through the years and haiku poets would leave a short verse at the end of their lives. This became part of Japanese culture. These poems reflect a way of seeing death without suffering. Often nature images were used to describe their experience; as man is part of nature not separate.

I was surprised by the diversity of the poems and what was shared. I was also surprised at how I felt such peace reading some of them. It’s a lovely collection.



KANSHU

Although the autumn moon
Has set, its light
Lingers on my chest.


UKO

The voice of the nightingale
Makes me forget
My years.

KATO

The moon departs:
Frost falls upon the
Morning glory.


SHOGETSU

Autumn ends:
Frogs settle down
Into the earth.

[Jonathan Mckay · Rating 4 out of 5]

Empty-handed I entered the world
Barefoot I leave it
My coming, my going
Two simple happenings
That got entangled

For each of us, the last day is coming, like the terminus of a transcontinental railroad trip. It’s far enough away to put out of mind, but we all know the end is coming. If the afterlife is unknowable, at least we can learn from others what pulling into the station feels like. Japanese death poems collects the final poems spoken or written before death over a period of hundreds of years. By alternating between poems and commentary, there is just enough context to make the different poems enjoyable, and the book proves surprisingly snackable. Many of the poems are simple imagery, in some way comforting of how one can approach the last days with a sense of awe and wonder.

Plum petals falling
I look up-the sky
a clear crisp moon

A bright and pleasant
Autumn day to make
death’s journey

Reading the condensed thoughts of Zen poets on their deathbeds is a satisfying lens on life. Perhaps by tying death with nostalgia and feelings of peace, many poems felt like a reminder to savor life, and there’s a comfort in believing that the last day is one to be enjoyed like any other. Yet in that way exists a silent exhortation to enjoy every day, for if you knew it was your last, you might try to enjoy it in the same way.

Today is the day
for one last view
of Mount Fuji

Many focus on the ephemerality of life - told not with disdain, but with a sense of naturalness that might only be possible so close to the end.

The snow of yesterday
that fell like cherry petals
is water once again

No sign
in the cicada’s song
that it will soon be gone

Festival of Souls
yesterday I hosted them
today I am a guest

The ones told with regret or humor may have made the most impression on me. The dying words of a poet still reflect a day and a state of mind that can be as varied as life. Perhaps my new motto on death is the following humorous death poem:

If your time to die has come
and you die - very well!
If you time to die has come
and you don’t-
all the better!

I’ve heard that ancient Japanese culture is one that is ‘obsessed with death’ but if this book is anything to go by, maybe the rest of us should pay a little more attention.


------


Other haikus I liked:

My whole long life I’ve sharpened my sword.
And now, face to face with death
I unsheathe it, and lo -
The blade is broken-
Alas!

Cicada shell
little did I know
it was my life

Farewell
I pass as all things do
dew on the grass

Winter ice
melts into clean water
clear is my heart

How leisurely the cherry
blossoms bloom this year, unhurried
by their doom

Fall, plum petals
fall- and leave behind the memory
of scent.

Ice in a hot world:
my life
melts.

[Inkdeathinbloom · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is really a beautiful book. Jisei, the tradition of writing a death poem, is a surprisingly soft tradition. The majority of death rituals serve a mixture of psychological, social and cultural purposes- and are undertaken at the event of death (sometimes shortly preceding death in the throes of dying) and are in part for the dead, but are also largely for the living left behind. I'm not sure if jisei entirely counts as a death ritual, but it's distinctly part of the realm. While death rituals deal largely with grief, jisei, in using haiku, which is traditionally used as a medium for meditations on nature, beauty, love, and wisdom, strikes a different note.

If immortality is what is left behind or left unforgotten, then a death poem is certainly one way to achieve it. It's something tangible to hold onto, in the minds of loved ones left behind who have a coil of words to recite and unravel left behind by the deceased, or by people like me, who happened across the poetry and enjoyed it. The name and life of the person lived on in some small way, right?

I'll freely admit, if this weren't a centuries old tradition, it might be easy for a cynic to see these as a little cliche. Jisei often use the same imagery as haiku, so they often reflect nature and the seasons, all of which are emblematic and further imbued with additional meanings in Japan (this book is pretty good about providing context for those as well). It means that the death poem is often about ending seasons, waning moons, setting suns, falling leaves- they are about death, fading, diminishing, ending. But the jisei are often sincere, and while some poems equate to "off I go to the end of summer now", some said "I wish I said I love you when I could" and "I was always afraid of dying when I was alive, and it never did me any good, because here I am dying, having never lived". Some are quite tongue in cheek.

Overall, as a practice, I think jisei are a lovely concept, and are frequently beautiful and touching. Many are the final words before death. I think they are something to carry with you and mull over gently, the poems themselves, and the concept of a death poem and all of its attached meanings.

This book also had an excellent introduction which provided background to the evolution/history/practice of poetry in Japan and how jisei arose, as well as some religious/philosophical/artistic contexts to set the stage. It's a book that lingers with me, and I think is one of few that I would curate to keep given only a few choices.

[MrClee · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mindig furcsa érzés a halálról olvasni. Furcsa, mert a létezés ezen oldalán, amit életnek nevezünk, csak találgatni tudunk róla. Ezek a haikuk viszont akkor keletkeztek, amikor íróik már kifelé haladtak az életből, sőt, némelyikük éppen a halála napján írta, vagy előtte nem sokkal, és valahogy a halál előszelét jelenítik meg. De saját tudatunk szerint lehetünk-e bármikor közelebb a halálhoz? Valószínűleg igen, mindenféle statisztikát fellelhet az ember erről, gondolhatnánk, hogy egy 20 éves, ereje teljében lévő embernek több van hátra, mint 100 éves társának, vagy éppenséggel elég rosszak az esélyei annak a balszerencsés fickónak, aki egy krokodiloktól hemzsegő mocsárba esett, elveszítve eszméletét. De biztos, hogy ezek valóban számítanak, és nem csak elterelik a figyelmet a lényegről? Arról, hogy az életünk valójában akármelyik percben véget érhet, minden egyes napunk valóban lehet az a bizonyos utolsó? Miért kell olcsó matematikai valószínűségszámításba bocsátkozunk, mikor életről, halálról beszélünk?
Többségük azért elég hasonlóan vélekedik a halálról, például Toko lecsupaszítja az igazságot, és nem misztifikálja túl:
„A búcsúversek
pusztán káprázatok – a
halál az halál.”
Raizan is elfogadja a sors végzetét, az örök körforgást, a természettel keres (és talál) hasonlatot:
„Búcsúzás, uram –
akár a hó: a vízből
jött, a vízbe ment.”
Senseki szintén, tiszta lelkiismerettel tekint előre.
„Végre indulok:
száraz egek, hideg hold –
a szívem tiszta.”
Lényegük a halál gondolatának elfogadása, feldolgozása. Csak mert egész hosszú életünk során hajlamosak vagyunk elfelejteni halandó mivoltunk, és örökéletű lényekként (istenekként) próbálunk viselkedni. Közben eszünkbe juthat Schopenhauer gondolata is, miszerint:

„a végtelenség létem után (a parte post) nálam nélkül épp oly kevéssé lehet szörnyű, mint a végtelenség létem előtt (a parte ante) nálam nélkül; mert e kettő semmi által nem különbözik egymástól, mint egy tünékeny álom közbelépte által.”
De ezt annyira nehéz feldolgozni.

[Rhys Parry · Rating 3 out of 5]

I feel as if I should explain why I gave this book a 3/5 rather than a 4 or 5. Hoffmann's 90 something page introduction is somewhat dense but really goes a long way in giving the reader an understanding how death is perceived in Japanese culture. He even does justice to the philosophy of Zen teachings concerned with death and explains the history of the jisei.

With that in mind [most] of the poems failed to resonate with me. This is probably a failing on my part. I was brimming with frustration and found some highly derivative, the Zen priest collection especially. Katsu! Katsu! Katsu! . The larger collection of jisei from poets did however inject some humor and wit into the collection and a few really floored me.

Some reviews have criticised Hoffmann's additional text on the poems but I found my eyes searching those sections for the gravity I was missing from the poem itself.


Lovely afternoon
I did not finish a book
A book finished me

[Cody · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mono no aware ~

What a pure, pretty, and charming little book

[Mridul Singhai · Rating 5 out of 5]

The poems are translated, yet they are great – I wonder how much was lost in translation, and just how great reading the original content might have felt. Here are a few that I enjoyed (in no order):

Returning thanks
for life, I turn back and bow
eastward.

Nights grow short:
a dream of fifty years
breaks off before it ends.

O young folk–
if you fear death,
die now!
Having died once,
you won't die again.

My hour draws near and I am still alive
Drawn by the chains of death
I take my leave.
The King of Hades has decreed
Tomorrow I shall be his slave.

Life is an ever-rolling wheel
And every day is the right one.

The truth is never taken
From another.
One carries it always
By oneself.
Katsu!

[Perry Ruhland · Rating 5 out of 5]

'The moon leaks out
from sleeves of cloud
and scatters shadows'

[Locky · Rating 5 out of 5]

'Over the fields of
last night's snow -
plum fragrance.'

- Okano Kin'emon Kanehide, died in 1703, at the age of 24.

This is a beautiful collection of poetry that encapsulates the Japanese spirit concerning death.
Although not my favourite, the poem above is remarkable as it was written by one of the 47 Ronin before committing ritual suicide.
If you don't know who the 47 Ronin are, I don't know what to tell you...

[Ryan 🪷 · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’ll review this book by reciting one of my favourite pieces of haiku from this text.

Death poems/Haiku’s between two siblings.

Chine (1688)
It lights up
as lightly as it fades
a firefly.

After the death of Chine her sibling wrote the following Haiku…

Kyorai (1704)
Sadly I see
the light fade on my palm:
a firefly.

[Victoria Ray · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolute delight for anyone who loves Japan, haiku (poetry), tanka, interested in Buddhism & Zen. The book shares the earliest known examples of Japanese poetry (from 712 A.D. to XIX century) - truly great collection! Loved it

[Christopher · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have had this on my to-read list for years. The rapid dying process and death of my (Japanese) grandmother over the course of the last two weeks finally forced the issue of reading it. It was the best timing really to enter, if however briefly, each of these people's finally crafted thoughts.

[Jack · Rating 5 out of 5]

This has been on my desk for a long time and I have read it bit by bit.
I have marked it as “finished” but I will be reading it again bit by bit.
There is a lot to think about here and I appreciate Yoel Hoffman’s compilation, translations, and notes.

[Parwana · Rating 4 out of 5]

Enjoyed the death poems written by zen monks better than haiku poets. Overall a good read if you’re a fan of poetry/haiku or interested in learning more about the japanese poetry and “philosophy”.

[Laurel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Profoundy moving. I'd have liked a bilingual edition - to see the poems in their original Japanese rather than simply in romaji. Identifying authors by their names in life, as well as their posthumous names may also have given some historical context to some figures.

[Farhan Khalid · Rating 4 out of 5]

O young folk — if you fear death
Die now!
Having died once, you won't die again

Death in itself is nothing; but we fear. To be we know not what, we know not where — DRYDEN

Death may indeed be nothing in itself, yet the consciousness of death is in most cultures very much a part of life

The earliest known examples of Japanese lyric poetry celebrate the beauty of nature, love and longing, and loyalty to the sovereign in what seem like bursts of spontaneous expression

The poems in the Man'yoshu are of two primary forms:

The tanka (short poem) – a verse of thirty-one syllables in five lines, the syllables distributed in the pattern 5-7-5-7-7

The choka (long poem) – also consisting of five- and seven-syllable lines, but indefinite in length

Poetry at the time of the Kokinshu had become a major occupation of noblemen and ladies of the court, poetic ability often being a means of advancement to positions of power and prestige

The kanshi – Chinese poem

The renga (linked poem) – verses of seventeen (5-7-5) and fourteen (7-7) syllables

The haiku – 5-7-5 syllable form

The haiku is probably the shortest verse form found in either the East or the West

Fujiwara-no-Yoshitsune
These days my inmost thoughts recall
An autumn sunset
When the deer's call echoes over fields

Three conventions have become universally accepted: (1) the haiku describes a single state or event; (2) the time of the haiku is the present; and (3) the haiku refers to images connected to one of the four seasons

Basho: The poet must become unconscious of himself so as to see the object of his poem with absolute clarity

In haiku, then, there is an attempt to say something without saying it

Haiku moment — that it blurs the distinction between subject and object, self and other

It reflects things as they are in themselves

BASHO
Spring has come
A nameless mountain
Wrapped in mist

Autumn wind:
The mountain's shadow
Quivering

Myth: The spirit of the dead person remains near the world of the living for forty-nine days

Japanese address their dead and simply talk to them

The ancient inhabitants of the Japanese islands viewed death as various forms of voyage, whether underground, into the mountains, beyond the horizon of the sea, or into the sky

The dead are also represented by clouds and mist, reflecting

Ancient Japanese believed that the dead turned into birds, or perhaps that birds carried them to another world

Mountains were considered the dwelling-places of gods

The gods look out from mountain peaks below to the narrow plains inhabited by people

The idea of transience is expressed through images of the changing seasons

The Japanese aspire to clarity of awareness, as of a mirror reflecting natural phenomena in its many forms. This is no mere gesture of aesthetic appreciation, but an act of worship

The solution to life's enigma is to be found not outside oneself, but within, in one's mind. One must purify one's consciousness and see reality as it is, in its suchness

Suicide may even indicate enlightenment liberated from the karmic cycle of births and deaths

There is in suicide an element of outright rebellion against the society that has caused the individual's failure

The Japanese tend to look upon it with a forgiving eye. Perhaps because suicide victims turn their anger not upon society, but upon themselves

HAGAKURE
Die like a madman

During the decades prior to World War II, extremists held the words of Hagakure to be the purest expression of loyalty to the emperor. The fanatic acts of suicide committed by the best of Japan's young men. Many of the youths undoubtedly believed they would win eternal life in Buddhist or Shinto fashion, but it was not this that motivated them so much as doing their duty to their fatherland and their emperor. They saw no point in living on in a world where their godlike ruler had been defeated. Much of the responsibility for their deaths must go to the Japanese government's propaganda machine

Book: The view of the Japanese of life and death

Flower came to be the principal symbol of the fleetingness of man's existence

Yet the flower also symbolizes beauty

SAIGYO
I wish to die in spring
Beneath the cherry blossoms
While the springtime moon is full

Ouchi Yoshitaka: Both the victor and the vanquished are but drops of dew, but bolts of lightning

Sakai Sadatoshi: When disaster falls, we share one fate

SADAMITSU
My heart is a bottomless river
a raging torrent—how can I throw
my name into the tempting waters?

OROKU
Along death's path
among the hills
I shall behold the moon

Hasegawa Shume
Throughout the frosty night, I lay awake
When morning bells rang out, my heart grew clear
Upon this fleeting dream-world dawn is waking

MASTER: Where will you go after death?

MONK: Excuse me for a minute. I have to go to the toilet

Yamamoto Ryokan
When you suffer a calamity—then be it so; now is the time of calamity
When you die—then be it so; now is the time to die
Thus you save yourself from calamity and death

SOA
Whether or not a paradise
awaits in the far reaches
of the west

Japanese culture is a culture of death. Collective unconsciousness of the Japanese is governed by a strong attraction toward death

BASSUI TOKUSHO
I teach with the voice of silence

CHORI
Leaves never fall
in vain—from all around
bells tolling

CHOSHI
On its way west
to paradise
migrating bird

One Japanese custom is to give death water, to the dying. The practice is not only a means of relieving the parched lips of the dying person: he is always given the water by a close relative or a good friend, and the waters often come from a particular source. This ancient custom may have had its beginnings in the belief that water binds the soul of the dying to the world it is trying to leave

FUKYU
A bright and pleasant
autumn day to make
death's journey

HANKAI
The year is ending:
I have not left my heart
behind

HOKUSAI
Now as a spirit
I shall roam
the summer fields

HOKUSHI
I write, erase, rewrite
erase again, and then
a poppy blooms

ICHIMU
A broken dream
where do they go
the butterflies?

INSEKI
I give my name back
as I step in
this Eden of flowers

IPPU
Falling in the wind
a gust
of evergreen leaves

JAKURA
This year I want
to see the lotus
on the other side

JOMEI
Leaves of words:
autumn colors
a still mountain

JOSEKI
This must be
my birthday there
in paradise

KIMPO
Today is the day
for one last view
of Mount Fuji

KINKO
Within the vast and empty
autumn night
dawn breaks

KOSEKI
Swear to me, pine
for many years
to keep on young and green

MICHIKAZE
Today I put on summer
clothes and journey
to a world I haven't seen yet

NANDAI
Since time began
the dead alone know peace
Life is but melting snow

RANGAI
I wish to die
a sudden death with eyes
fixed on Mount Fuji

RANSEKI
This last night of nights
bush clover whispers
Buddha, Buddha

SENRYU
Like dewdrops
on a lotus leaf
I vanish

SHOFU
One moon
one me
snow-covered field path

TOYOKUNI
Is it like
a charcoal sketch
a hazy shadow?

ZAISHIKI
Frost on grass:
a fleeting form
that is, and is not!

[Caleb Stober · Rating 4 out of 5]

First off, I really enjoyed the part of the book I bought it for, namely the section devoted to the death poems themselves. Having so many in one place really helped me to appreciate the form as well as begin to understand the linguistic symbolism used to infuse so much meaning into so few syllables. The added stories and explanations to many of the haikus was welcome. This author is at his best when he is translating and relaying, however, he is at his worst when he attempts to compare religions and worldviews. There's a genre of literature called Nihonjinron, which basically serves to uncritically praise Japanese culture--it's pure exceptionalism and borders on religiosity itself. This is that. Unable to maintain a clear mind, he fancies himself not only well-versed in Japanese religious views, but also in the Christian worldview which he attempts to make a dull and infantile backdrop to the apparent shining glory of Japanese thought. In this he humiliates himself. Nevertheless, if you just skip the sections where he starts into comparing religions, it's a good book for what it purports to be about.

[Sarah · Rating 5 out of 5]

I feel like this book is absolutely essential to my poetry collection!

I particularly enjoyed
"Bury me when I die
beneath a wine barrel
in a tavern.
With luck
the cask will leak." -Moriya Sen'an
Because this idea appeals to me on many levels! Duh.

And this poem really spoke to me on a deep level:
"Clear sky-
the way I came by once
I now go back by." - Gitoku