On Haiku

by Hiroaki Sato

Everything you want to know about haiku written by one of the foremost experts in the field and the “finest translator of contemporary Japanese poetry into American English” (Gary Snyder) Who doesn’t love haiku? It is not only America’s most popular cultural import from Japan but also our most popular poetic instantly recognizable, more mobile than a sonnet, loved for its simplicity and compression, as well as its ease of composition. Haiku is an ancient literary form seemingly made for the Twittersphere―Jack Kerouac and Langston Hughes wrote them, Ezra Pound and the Imagists were inspired by them, Hallmark’s made millions off them, first-grade students across the country still learn to write them. But what really is a haiku? Where does the form originate? Who were the original Japanese poets who wrote them? And how has their work been translated into English over the years? The haiku form comes down to us today as a cliché: a three-line poem of 5-7-5 syllables. And yet its story is actually much more colorful and multifaceted. And of course to write a good one can be as difficult as writing a Homeric epic―or it can materialize in an instant of epic inspiration. In On Haiku , Hiroaki Sato explores the many styles and genres of haiku on both sides of the Pacific, from the classical haiku of Basho, Issa, and Zen monks, to modern haiku about swimsuits and atomic bombs, to the haiku of famous American writers such as J. D. Salinger and Allen Ginsburg. As if conversing over beers in your favorite pub, Sato explains everything you wanted to know about the haiku in this endearing and pleasurable book, destined to be a classic in the field.

Genres: Poetry, Nonfiction, Japan, Reference, History, Writing

294 pages, Paperback

Published October 30, 2018

About the author

Hiroaki Sato (佐藤 紘彰) born 1942, is a Japanese poet and prolific translator who writes frequently for The Japan Times. He has been called (by Gary Snyder) "perhaps the finest translator of contemporary Japanese poetry into American English."

Reviews

[Tim Nowotny · Rating 5 out of 5]

Have you ever had a really good tourist guide on a vacation?
This book feels very much so. The author takes you on a ride, keeps the mood light and throws at you facts and figures that are entertaining and informative. And after having had a good time you notice that you learned something that must have been dear to the author (despite him having said differently on the first page).

I enjoyed this book very much! It gave a very multi layered overview of the context of Haiku and the many, many forms they can take. In this regard, it works for me on multiple levels. It teaches you on Haiku, but on form and art in general.

[John Barrington · Rating 5 out of 5]

America has latched onto haiku for its brevity and easily teachable form. Here, Sato does the necessary work of re-contextualizing haiku for an American readership, offering an expansive history with frequent diversions into poetic analysis.

Sato tracks haiku from its beginnings as an opening renga verse to its present day singularity, up through gendai haiku and the avant-garde. Sato sustains a winking, affable critical voice (while he is a critic, he is also a well-known translator of haiku, and his affection is evident). This voice becomes the reader's guiding light, turning what in less capable hands would be a dryly encyclopedic endeavor to a collection of illuminating and, often, genuinely funny essays. Sato is a true caretaker of the form.

With its density of information, it's a near miracle this thing reads like such a breeze. I will continue to return to On Haiku, equal parts reference and recreation.

[Jimmy · Rating 5 out of 5]

On Haiku by Hiroaki Sato

(from) chapter called The "Gun Smoke" haiku poet Hasegawa Sosei (pages 159 to 176)
Mukai Kyorai was a disciple of Basho and a samurai:
* An outrage: A man viewing cherry blossoms with a sword on.

Masaoka Shiki wrote this on New Year's Day 1892:
* Soldiers are the nation's blossoms: sprint today
And this one on New Year's Day 1893:
*With a 100,000-man standing army the country in spring

Shiki may have been the first poet to praise his nation for its soldiers and standing army.

Shiki wrote a friend saying, "The Sino-Japanese War is a delight to me. Although everyone has stopped me, I've been unable to restrain myself and I'm finally going to the front. This is the best thing that has happened to me since I was born."

He was sick and the war was pretty much over. He wrote these haiku:
* Long day: driving donkeys the whip and its shadow
* In the big country the mountains are all low in haze
* After a battle there are only a few swallows
* Pear blooms: after a battle a collapsed house
* China is a place famed for apricot flowers
* Hide the corpse of the one who's deceased: spring grass

Shiki died at 35 but others took him up on reforming haiku.

Shiki criticized "trivial versifying" utterly devoid of the "actualities of the ferocity of war." I agree with him. I can handle only so many cherry blossoms and frogs kerplunking in the pond.

Two poets who took his request seriously were Hekigodo ("as cool as ice") and Kyoshi ("as hot as fire"). Hekigodo developed untraditional ideas, promoting free-rhythm haiku that ignored the 5-7-5 form and discarded seasonal words while Kyoshi stuck to the use of kigo and keeping the form.

After Japan went to war with Russia in 1904, Segawa Sozan searched for haiku dealing with war and published War Haiku.

Hoshino Bakujin, who studied haiku with Shiki, celebrated the battle of Tsushima in a series of 11 haiku ten years later. Here is an example:

* In summer haze enemy warships are clear waves high

That haiku uses a famous telegram sent on spotting a Russian fleet: "Although the weather is clear the waves are high." But none of the ten pieces describe the actualities of war.

When 1937 rolled around, Japan expanded its military activities in China. Saito Sanki announced, "This fierce reality is the most glorious opportunity to magnify what non-seasonal haiku truly is." The shinko haiku movement had started several years earlier rejecting the requirement of seasonal words. The magazine Kyodai Haiku pushed for greater freedom and flexibility in haiku subject matter.

In September 1938, an entire war novel Wheat and Soldier was turned into a series of haiku. The author Hino Ashihei wrote a realistic account of Japanese operations west of Shangai. It was an instant best seller. Three poets--Hino Sojo, Higashi Kyozo, and Watanabe Hakusen--undertook this haiku-ization of the novel. Some haiku poets condemned the action because they believed haiku poets should only write about what they see. For others, it became fashionable to be "imagining and seeing the fire of war from afar," according to the words of Hino Sojo.

The November 1938 issue of Haiku Studies had "3,000 haiku on the China incident." In April of 1939 there were 3,000 more. Here are some examples:

By Hirahata Seito:
* The military bridge now sways with refugees' loads

By Saito Sanki:
* In the trench gleams a single identification tag
* Having buried my war buddy I shoot my pistol into heaven

These two poets along with thirteen others were arrested in 1940 by the "thought police." It was later known as the Kyodai Haiku incident. The arrest was based on a 1925 law enacted to suppress Communism. It was expanded to cover anything detrimental to mainstream conservative thought, including democracy, liberalism, realism, antiwar sentiments, and "friendliness" to the United States and United Kingdom.

The law had been first directed against senryu writers. Here are two examples from the magazine Senryu Man:
(The first written by Tsuru Akira, who died of dysentery in prison.)
* Returned as logs with arms and legs wrenched off
(The second is by Nakagawa Kamenbo who survived the war.)
* Can't wait for a retreat with guns on shoulders

The poet who most stood out in the war was Hasegawa Sosei and his "Gun-Smoke" haiku.

In 1937, Sosei was promoted to second lieutenant in field artillery. He fought in various parts of China for a year and a half before being struck down by tuberculosis. In 1939, the editor selected 214 of them for the book Gun Carriage. The editor singled out the author as someone who actually experienced what he was writing about.

* With a summer-scorched gun carriage I myself go
(This implies "go to war" so he is in Japan.)

* A friend interred, in my tearful eyes geese are high
* Burned out: a village only with walls and wintry trees
* To bury my horse the soldiers dig the withered field
* Those hiding in a pile of rice plants pulled out with swords
* Frost settles on piled prone corpses in the moat

On December 13, 1937, "Nanjing finally falls." The attack on Nanjing resulted in the death of 6,000 Japanese soldiers and 8,000 Chinese soldiers. But it was the deaths that followed that brought infamy. The number of dead varies widly so I won't give figures. It was known as "the rape of Nanjing."

* For a while we are within Nanjing Castle on guard duty
* Nanjing having been destroyed the year too turns anew
(The word "destroy" comes from a word used in slaughtering animals.)
* Saying they'll dig fukujuso soldiers search the field
(The fukujuso flower is a harbinger of spring.)
* Prostrate in snow the enemy joins hands I see with hate
(These are captured enemy soldiers in the snow pleading for their lives.)
* On the snow I slaughtered him as if he were a beast
* In the cruel cold without even grass to eat: the natives
* Because of war the starved saunter the withered field
* Piteous people: even frozen rice they receive on palms
* They beg for food opening the frozen hands, fingers
* Facedown on snow an enemy corpse coppers scattered
* Plum blossoms abloom it is a peaceful village however
(They surrounded a village to seek out "native rats" to kill.)
* Under blurry moon in the battle aftermath such corpses
(They attack the village.)

Sosei's close friend the haiku poet Hashimoto Kenji reported "the body blow Sosei received from the war was tremendous." As Sosei was moved from hospital to hospital "his loathing of war became fierce." Now his haiku changed.

* Pulling the light in the sun mandarin ducks proceed
* The cold behind the large tree trunk is quiet indeed
* Things that have warmly withered in the sun's yellowness

Sosei died of TB in 1946 about one year after the surrender.
* Tomorrow departing my heart picks up a fallen leaf by my hand

[Ben Frost · Rating 4 out of 5]

It turns out that what we all learned when introduced to haiku in creative writing in elementary school was just the faintest sliver of the very tip of an iceberg. In fact, upon a second look, that piece of iceberg is really a white plastic bag and the real iceberg is about 7,597 metres to the left.

[Books on Asia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Review by Robert MacLean

For the last five decades, Hiroaki Sato has been an eminent translator of Japanese poetry, translating over three dozen books into English, including a just-published anthology of haiku written by victims of the 2011 tsunami and earthquake. Born in Taiwan in 1943, his family moved to Kyoto after the war, where he studied at Doshisha University before moving to the US in 1968, basing himself in New York City. His landmark anthology From the Country of Eight Islands (1981), coedited with Burton Watson, has been an inspiration to many. I still vividly remember camping in the Olympic Mountains in Washington State, reading these poems in an alpine meadow amid melting snow, entranced, as if remembering past lives. Looking up, poems drifted in the endless sky.

New Directions released Sato’s On Haiku (2018), a collection of nineteen essays, some previously published in obscure journals or given in presentations. It has many strengths. Simply as a cornucopia of haiku, often from writers unknown in the West, it is a treasure. Each Japanese haiku is given in kanji, a transliteration into romaji, and Sato’s rendition, using monolinear form. Rather than tailor the original text to an English-speaking audience, his instinct is to trust the literal image with its myriad connotations, then provide illuminating commentary on the linguistic and cultural nuances. An accomplished poet himself, Sato speaks from the inside, giving a hand’s-on perspective. His explication of individual haiku is never dryly academic, but delightfully discursive, opening the poems in a way that touches our daily lives.

The essays cover a wide range of topics, from the roots of haiku in the Edo period as a hokku, “opening verse” in sequential renga, “linked verse” composed collaboratively in a guest-host relationship, to contemporary gendai, experimental forms which subvert the rules. Along the way, separate sections consider haiku and Zen; a close analysis of a single renga with thirty-six segments, ‘The Sea Darkens’, led by Matsuo Basho in a 1684 session with local participants; parallels between Issa and Hokusai in their use of perspective; military haiku; ‘From Wooden Clogs to the Swimsuit: Women in Haikai and Haiku’, spanning two centuries; and introductions to the work of many 20th-century Japanese haijin (haiku writers), particularly women.

‘Haiku and Zen: Association and Dissociation’ examines the contentious issue concerning the extent to which haiku is infused with Zen. Drawing on ancient Chinese Chan koans, it is a comprehensive survey that includes Basho’s famous frog, Jack Kerouac, Gary Snyder, American Zen and Japanese practitioners such as Kōi Nagata who, Sato points out, modelled some of his haiku upon the life and work of the medieval monk, Master Ikkyū:

Gaikotsu ga namaeau aki mo nagori kana
Skeletons licking each other as autumn lingers

Two essays packed with historical detail track haiku during Japan’s war with Korea and China, followed by the Asia-Pacific conflicts. Shinzunojo Takeshita, a teacher and librarian, writes in 1937 about her son:

Yuku ako ni getsumei no nasu mugi kashigu
For my child going to war I pick and cook moonlit eggplants

Hiroshi Shimomura, a doctor, in the aftermath of the Nagasaki blast:

Enten no mukuro o hakobu jinkaisha
Carrying cadavers under burning sky a garbage cart

One of the strongest dimensions of Sato’s book is its introduction to the work of many twentieth century women haijin. ‘From Wooden Clogs to the Swimsuit: Women in Haikai and Haiku’ spans two centuries. Chiyojo Kaga, a contemporary of Bashō, writes about the loss of her child:

Tombo-tsuri kyō wa koko mada itta yara
Dragon-catcher, how far has he gone today?

Takao Hashimoto in 1937, nursing her husband who died that autumn:

Shi ni chikaki mo ni yori tsuki no teru o iinu
Up close to his face near death I said the moon’s shining

A decade later, she still misses him deeply:

Yuki hageshi dakarete iki no tsumarishi koto
Snow fierce how hugged I was breathless

The essay ‘Haiku Poet Called a Hooker’ focuses on Shizuko Suzuki, who lived with an African American soldier after WWII and abruptly disappeared, probably of suicide, leaving over 7,000 unabashedly sensual haiku dealing with taboo topics including prostitution, drug addiction and abortion:

Suki no mono wa ruri bara ame eki yubi shunrai
What I like crystal roses rains stations fingers spring thunder

‘In the Cancer Ward’ introduces Chimako Tada, a respected translator. She took up haiku only when diagnosed with cervical cancer, as a form of therapy encouraged by her daughter. After her death in 2003, one hundred and sixty of her haiku were published. Some two dozen are included in the book.

Natsuyase ya sukoshi fuetaru shi no omomi
Summer-thin: a little gaining the weight of death

and,

Kusa no se o noritsugu kaze no yukue kana
Riding from one blade of grass to another the wind goes where

On Haiku is filled with such jagged beauty. Throughout, what Sato calls his “meandering discourse” is wonderfully erudite, playful and profound. It ends with two poignant personal essays, ‘Receiving a Falconer’s Haibun’ and ‘Through the Looking Glass’, admitting the problematic relationship of translator to text, which invariably results in a variant of failure–each failure precious, a facet or shard of the original which itself engages in the same process. Again and again, Sato reveals how the radical brevity of the haiku genre contains worlds within worlds. This is a book to cherish, which nurtures in return.

Read the full review at Books on Asia

[Joey Fogarty · Rating 4 out of 5]

2024 reads, 14/22

On Haiku is a collection of previously written essays by Hiroaki Sato on the art and history of haiku. Although not straightforward nonfiction, the organization of these essays brings about a naturally flowing and cohesive text on one of the most famous and down-to-earth poetic forms.

“In simplest terms, haikai [the predecessor of haiku] meant rejection of poetic diction and adoption of language in daily use. Orthodox court poetry did not tolerate references to quotidian, down-to-earth things like shiru, "soup," and namasu, "fish salad," so incorporating daily elements was haikai.”

This is probably more of an “intermediate” text on Haiku… if such a thing even exists. There is really no introductory chapter or definitions to ground you as you read, and it feels like Sato assumes you are somewhat familiar with haiku masters, e.g., Bashō, Issa, and Shiki. Furthermore, he drops a lot of Eastern history and philosophy which can be daunting (especially as someone with a limited education on this topic). But nowhere does Sato come off as a know-it-all, in fact his tone is very conversational and light – albeit opinionated – as he shares his knowledge.

Sato not only analyzes haiku, renga, and haibun (among other Japanese literary forms), but discusses the historical and societal context in which they were written. This connection of haiku to other facets of Japanese culture enhances haiku analysis, such as in the essay Issa and Hokusai. Here, Sato compares haiku poet Issa to ukiyo-e artist Hokusai, creator of the collection Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji (which contains the famous painting The Great Wave off Kanagawa ). Both had a similar upbringing, and used that to exaggerate different perspectives in their work.

“O snail
Climb Mount Fuji
But slowly, slowly!” - Issa

While translated haiku are beautiful on their own, understanding the context of their translation generates a new appreciation, and I’m glad Sato spent time on it. I learned that many hiragana and kanji characters in Japanese are used for their double meaning, or almost pun-like function, in haiku – but someone who is unfamiliar with the language and culture (me) would not understand the poet’s intention behind the words. It’s not unlike having a joke explained to you, but in this case, none of the magic is lost.

One of my favorite essays, Hearn, Bickerton, Hubbell: Translation and Definition, deals with this topic. Sato starts with five different translators’ versions of Bashō's famous frog-pond haiku:

“Old pond — frogs jumped in — sound of water”

“A lonely pond in age - old stillness sleeps . . .
Apart, unstirred by sound or motion . . . till
Suddenly into it a lithe frog leaps.”

“Into the calm old pond
A frog plunged — then the splash.”

“Breaking the silence
Of an ancient pond,
A frog jumped into water —
A deep resonance.”

“An old pond
A frog jumping
Sound of water”

How do five different translations come from the same Japanese text? It’s really interesting stuff, and goes to show how translation between languages is itself an art.

Not only is this a collection of essays worth coming back to, but On Haiku is also a great reference book - not only are there a glossary of terms and a list of important people at the end, but each essay contains a wealth of information for further reading. Definitely worth reading if you are interested at all in haiku, or Japanese literature/history.

[Gabor Seprenyi · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm a bit ambivalent about this book.
I love haikus and during the years I've been digging deeper and deeper into this beautiful genre of Japanese literature. Nota bene: there is no haiku outside Japan, a haiku only works if written in Japanese. A haiku is not only a poem, it is a kind of Gesamtkunstwerk that not only gives enjoyment through its obscure meaning capturing a scene in 17 syllables but also give a visual enjoyment (Japanese kanjis in beautiful calligraphy) and a musical enjoyment by the sound of the Japanese words.
From one aspect, I learned a lot about haikus and Japanese poetry. The book put already well known haikus by Matsuo Basho and others into new and broader perspectives.
Yet, for me, the book is too much into details which works against its readability.
Also, the English translation could have been better.

[julie | eggmama · Rating 3 out of 5]

Haiku has always been one of my favorite poetic forms because of it's understated complexity, concision, and ability to zoom in on small moments or objects. This book taught me a lot about the history of haiku and how the West changed it and how it evolved. I never knew, for instance, that it was originally monolinear, instead of three lines of 5-7-5 syllables. I also never knew the strict requirements of traditional haiku, such as the seasonal requirement. All requirements considered, haiku packs even more of a punch. Some great haiku examples included, along with traditional and avant-garde writers. Very interesting, and Sato includes humorous accounts as well. He describes one writer as a "warrior poet" and that is now what I aspire to.

[Punk · Rating 4 out of 5]

Essays with topics that cover old masters, modern poets, and even a few English language haiku. All translations are Sato's unless otherwise noted.

On a technical level, these essays are a bit of a mess. They tend to ramble—at least one was originally a talk—and many end abruptly with no conclusion, but the content and perspective are very interesting. I love translator's notes so I enjoyed reading about Sato's process, his decisions and struggles as a translator. The last line of the last essay is, "I do not really understand the original of the last part of the last sentence so you better not trust my translation of it." And I respect that. Knowledge and language shift over time and those changes can't always be tracked or understood. And then there's the fact that not everyone's writing makes sense at the time. We have people writing words today who make no blessed sense. No translation is going to be perfect. Some aren't even going to be accurate.

Though Sato tries to explain the connections he makes between different pieces, poets, disciplines, and artists, I didn't always have the proper background to be able to understand the things he wasn't saying and so his commentary sometimes failed to make its point, especially when it comes to Zen thinking and tradition. I need that shit spelled out as if for a child, though the passage he translates from Dōgen, the founder of the Sōtō school of Zen Buddhism, about the image of "water-moon" really moved me:

For a man to attain enlightenment is like the moon lodging in the water. The moon does not get wet, the water does not break. The moon, though its light is wide and large, lodges in the slightest bit of water. The entire moon, the whole sky, lodges in a dewdrop on the grass, lodges in a drop of water. Enlightenment does not break a man just as the moon does not pierce the water.

Sato translates haiku as one line and often smooths things out by adding pronouns, verbs, and linking words, thus avoiding the characteristic choppiness of other translations. It's more energetic, but it can make everything feel rushed, like a run-on sentence. At other times, it's unclear where a haiku wants to be separated into three phrases and the whole thing feels jumbled together. In one line it's easy to read these too fast, like scarfing down jelly beans. I had to force myself to slow down and reread so I could properly enjoy them. I felt more comfortable with the modern haiku in this form as most were unfamiliar to me and it's easy to believe they were written in a more conversational, relaxed way. When it comes to Bashō though, I'm too familiar with his work not to see—and judge—all the changes Sato makes. That's not to say I didn't appreciate his translations. They're so accessible they almost beg you to engage with them and there's an easy lightness to them.

Here's what Bashō's most famous poem looks like in Sato's hands:


An old pond: a frog jumps in the water the sound


I think you can see what I mean about not immediately knowing where the pauses come in that line, but that's also part of its charm. You've got options and because the poem's so small they can all exist at once, the frog simultaneously jumping into the water and into the sound of the water. Or maybe the frog just jumps in the pond, and the water, the sound, are two little fragments responding to or echoing that action. His one-line translations might require a little extra work, but that, too, is part of what makes them interesting.

For each haiku, Sato includes the original, a transliteration, and his translation. Seeing the original Japanese lined up with the transliteration and translation made me feel more connected to the poems and by the time I was through I was able to recognize and understand a bunch of kanji and their readings. I also appreciate how Sato thoughtfully provides the original language for translated terms in the text itself, allowing for transparency and well as an aid to further research.

Of the essays my favorites pieces were "Hearn, Bickerton, Hubbell: Translation and Definition," on the role of lineation in translating Japanese haiku into English (and other languages), "White Quacks and Whale Meat: Bashō's Kasen, 'The Sea Darkens,'" a line-by-line explication of a 36-verse haikai no renga, and "Issa and Hokusai," a look at exaggerated perspective in Issa's haiku and how that playful contrast between large and small also shows up in the work of ukiyo-e painter Katsushika Hokusai.

At the back of the book there's a helpful glossary of terms and a list of notable persons with dates and short bios, but no index, and while there is an acknowledgment section that indicates where pieces were originally published (or given), it is not easy to parse, and it though it seems to indicate whether an essay has been revised for the book it doesn't say when they were first published.

Contains (in part): discussion of war and violence in warfare; poems about death and dying.

[Alex Fyffe · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is an essential text for anyone seriously interested in the writing and reading of haiku. Sato's essays provide insight not only into Basho and the early haiku (hokku) writers, but also detailed looks into the history of women haiku poets, wartime poets--both those jailed for anti-war sentiment and those with pro-war sentiment--, modern and avant-garde haiku poets, and more.

Included in the history and biographical sketches are also line-by-line explications of some renga (linked verse writing from which haiku was derived), accounts of how the haiku form came to the West and why it changed from a one-line poem to a three-line poem, and Sato's own compelling argument for why the haiku should be a one-line poem in English, as well.

Sato, who is also a translator, gives us a generous helping of haiku examples to illustrate all of his essays, provided in the original Japanese, a romanized rendering, and his English translation. Although this is highly appreciated, Sato's exceptionally faithful translations are also the one real weak point in the book. Sato's reasons for translating haiku into a single line are well-argued, but his overall reliance on direct translations frequently look and sound awkward for English readers.

In Japanese, haiku are almost exclusively written on a single line with no punctuation or spacing (with only a few exceptions). Sato brings this approach over to English, ignoring line breaks and punctuation entirely (barring the occasional colon). Sometimes it works, but other times the effect feels needlessly janky. Poems that sound incredible in the original Japanese sometimes lose their original appeal in Sato's handling. He also ignores localization techniques, literally translating something that could have been more impactful if he had found a clever English-language equivalent. Here's one example by Oyama Sutematsu:

雪の朝二の字二の字の下駄の跡
yuki no asa ni no ji ni no ji no geta no ato
Morning snow: figure two figure two wooden-clog marks

This is a visual poem in which the "figure two" of Sato's translation appears in the original Japanese as the symbol for the number two (二), which looks like the footprints left behind by geta (the "wooden-clog(s)"). A translator wanting to keep a similar effect might have opted for both a certain amount of accuracy to the original while also making the poem visual for English speakers, perhaps:

morning snow
the number II number II
of geta footprints

I have opted to translate this into three lines. And this is another point concerning Sato's book. Although I cannot help but agree with him in many respects that the three-line haiku is an early misrepresentation of the Japanese form, I also understand that haiku has become something of a different entity in the West, mutating from one form into another in that leap across the border. At this point, with over a hundred years of three-line English-language haiku published in outstanding magazines and books, it is just as easy to argue that haiku is a three-line poem in English, even when translated from the Japanese single line. I admire Sato's insistence on staying true to the original form, but adaptation is a necessary, if painful, process.

Some other examples of clunky translation:

umi osoroshi nami ga tsugitsugi te o agete
Sea frightens: one wave another raising its hand

This translation of a poem by Tada Chimako is awkward on two fronts: "Sea frightens" and "one wave another." Although "Sea frigthens" is the order in the original language, "frightful sea" or "dreadful sea" would come off better in English. Then, why choose the clunky "one wave another" when tsugitsugi very clearly means "one after another"?

the frightful sea
one wave after another
raises its hand

It is a frustrating process reading Sato's translations because his essays are so insightful and his knowledge so vast on the subject, it seems strange to see translations that do the original works such little justice. To be clear, this is not true of all the translations in the book, many of which are beautifully-crafted, but it was the case enough times that it became a baffling experience reading through the book.

Despite this, the book is an indispensable resource for haiku enthusiasts and anyone interested in truly understanding this often misunderstood poetic form. Some essays will appeal more than others (the renga explications can sometimes feel like a slog), but overall, the book is filled with fascinating glimpses into the lives of poets, most of whom the average Western reader will not have heard of until now.

4.5 out of 5

[Grayson VanDyke · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some interesting anecdotes on Japanese poets.

[Rick Jackofsky · Rating 4 out of 5]

A nice collection of essays containing many interesting insights into Japanese history and culture that will help English speaking readers interpret classic as well as modern Japanese haiku. This book once again shows that translating haiku, from Japanese to English, is a slippery slope. The translator often comes very close to becoming a co-author of a new poem.

While I've written plenty of one line haiku, I’m not sure I agree with Sato’s proclivity to translate all haiku using only one line. I know Japanese haiku is written in a single line of characters, but from what I understand about Japanese language, and poetry, the sequences of 5 and 7 (or not) syllables (on) are easily discernible to a Japanese reader or listener, so why not write them in three lines to make the phrasing more apparent to an English reader? All in all an interesting book for the serious student of haiku.

[Micah Horton hallett · Rating 4 out of 5]

An incredible, chaotic and meandering ramble through the world, characters and history of Haiku. Eminently enjoyable, Hiroaki Sato goes far beyond Basho and is moderately evenhanded in his treatment of avant Garde and traditional Haiku- except for the single line versus three line translation models:

Gone from translation lines like the straight edge of blades bee in his bonnet

[Andrew · Rating 4 out of 5]

In 2019, I emailed Hiroaki Sato, the man justly described as 'the pre-eminent translator of Japanese poetry in our time', to seek permission to include his translation of one of Bashō's haiku in my book Islands. This one (found in Faubion Bowers' The Classic Tradition of Haiku)...

shimajima ya / chiji ni kudakete / natsu no umi
Islands: shattered into thousands of pieces in the summer sea

His reply to me, this unknown author, and my little publication, had the subject line 'By all means' and in it he said, 'I am happy and honored that you were drawn to that translation.' We had a short email communication about this and that, and by the end he was simply signing his emails, Hiro.

I was very moved by that response. His wasn't the only haiku I included in the book, and as I went about seeking permissions, I found the haiku community to be unfailingly generous, helpful and pleased to share their work.

The positivity of this experience was so universal that I was tempted to make the romantic postulation that there was something inherent in the haiku form that meant its practitioners were likely to be humble and generous individuals, glowing with goodness. Something Zen. I still think there might be something in that. And I wouldn't be the first westerner to romanticise about haiku.

---

Dawn mist
Cobweb captures sunlight
In drops of dew.

In the morning I awoke and wrote a slightly different version:

Dawn mist
Cobweb captures droplets
Of morning light.

---

But along comes Hiro Sato again - this time in his book On Haiku - and immediately sets about doing a wonderful job of dispelling romanticism. It's fascinating and dynamic, with a cast of colourful and unique characters from history, across the gathered collection of essays.

We discover it's entirely possible for haiku to be caught up in ego, controversy and criticism, and for a haiku gathering to literally end in fisticuffs. Yeah sure, maybe haiku is Zen, but maybe not quite as Zen and pure as you might imagine.

On a darker but fascinating note, during our short communication, because I'm from New Zealand Hiro sent me an article he had written about Max Bickerton - a New Zealander who lived in Japan in the 1930s and ended up being tortured by the Japanese police for his haiku translation work.

That story also arises in this book, and we see haiku and haiku writers becoming both the target of the 'thought police' and also vehicles of nationalistic propaganda as Imperialist Japan conducted its horrific war in the 1930s and 40s - first in China and then across the Pacific. Dark days culminating in the hellish cataclysm of America's atomic bombs.

All this and more finds voice in the culture and history, stretching back many hundreds of years, of Japanese poetry.

So Sato's book is about realism; but/and it is full of beauty. Apart from the prose explorations, it is a wonderful repository for haiku in translation. All is expostulated with an unrivalled knowledge of the function of history, language and culture, and the technicalities of haiku. Traditional haiku: kigo (seasonal word) plus 5-7-5 syllables. Non-traditional: go for broke (but get your atmosphere right, I reckon). You don't have to do the three-line thing. Sato likes a haiku to be formatted in a single line.

And for me the discovery of two gems... that there is a Japanese literary form called haibun that incorporates prose interspersed and/or ending with original haiku. And that the Japanese word, fūryū, translated as 'a poetic turn of mind' or perhaps 'a poetic sensibility' - referring to 'a liking for things somewhat unworldly or transcendental' - is literally translated as 'wind flow'. Which is haikuesque in itself, and staggeringly beautiful and perhaps not a little profound.

I feel quite fond of Hiro's book as I return it to the shelf.

---

Haiku book
Faded spine
Subject of the sun's bright gaze.

[Richard Tice · Rating 5 out of 5]

The book's title really should be On Haikai and Haiku. Though rambling in its composition, put together from miscellaneous articles and presentations, Sato's work has a chronological framework of Japanese haikai and haiku history. This has a wealth of interesting information and abundant examples of hokku, haikai [linked verse], haiku, and tanka, written in Sato's engaging style. Some highlights: a complete (and explicated) kasen by Basho and friends, composed on a scenic boat trip, abundant selections highlighting Issa's exaggerated perspective, a critique of Shiki as a haikai reformer and a poet, wartime haiku, including a "war" between poets who imagined wartime scenes and poets who wrote from direct observation and the imprisonment of many of the former, and some musings about "gendai [modern] haiku" and the misdirections that term has taken in English. Hiroaki Sato is a prolific translator, and he translates the Japanese haiku and tanka, all printed in one line in the original, as one-line English poems. Although the pattern and phrasing are obvious in the Japanese one-line poems, they are often not evident or even obliterated in the one-line translations, and without the Japanese, sometimes hard to figure out. I will continue in my own translations to use a three-line format, which indicates the pattern and breaks in the original one-line format. Sadly there are a number of errors in the romanized Japanese and even a few dropped characters in the Japanese scripts of poems, probably the result of not having an editor conversant in Japanese. Who will notice them, though, who doesn't read the Japanese closely? Sadly, there are also a number of disconcerting errors in English, too: dropped text, repeated words, and the like--editorial mistakes--though Sato's use of English itself is masterful. I kept finding all sorts of insights into the form, context, and history of haiku, and there is so much here readers cannot find elsewhere in English.

[Mary · Rating 3 out of 5]

(I must start with the disclaimer that I am a beginner at studying haiku. Also, a score above 3 stars indicates to myself a book I would enjoy re-reading. ) This book is for scholars of haiku and I do not wish to try and work through it again, hence the 3 stars.

The first ~ 50 pages of this book are intolerable. It’s like asking a genius hacker to explain an everyday computer question, and instead of getting a clarifying answer, being given a smart-aleck sarcastic monologue of obscure terminology designed to point out just how clueless you are.

The next ~50 pages are just uninteresting. The problem with these first ~100 pages is that they are important to the enjoyment of the rest of the book.

At about 100 pages, the haiku begins. It’s obvious that the author really knows his stuff and that the subject of haiku is complicated. If you are already an expert, I suspect this book may be a 5 star book for you. But this is not a book for beginners like me.

My new favorite haiku is by Hatano Soha:

Bamboo leaves falling a puppy too issues solid droppings

[B.C. Dittemore · Rating 5 out of 5]

This April (2024) I started trying my hand at haiku. Partially as a mindfulness exercise and partially as a way to write SOMETHING. As I wrote more, I became aware of how most of what I know about haiku was taught in grade school, or I had picked up through hearsay.

I began to wish for a resource that could help me write haiku respectfully. One that could dispel any misconceptions I had. Typical of me, I kept forgetting to look into available resources.

Then one day at the library as though providence were intervening I came across Sato’s On Haiku. It is literally everything I had wished for.

[Ben Rasmussen · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a really weird read. Some of the essays are great and really helped me have a better understanding of haiku--others, not so much. Several just seemed to end in the middle of a thought.

The last sentence of the entire book is kind of amazing:

"I do not really understand the original of the last part of the last sentence so you better not trust my translation of it."

[Sean Anderson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Exhaustive and meandering, this is the best book I’ve read on the subject as well as a great collection of poems. If you’re serious about understanding or even writing your own Haiku, this is where to start.

[Mike · Rating 5 out of 5]

Coming away from this book, I’m left with two realizations: how little I understood haiku beforehand, and how little I still understand haiku. I think I’m a little closer, though.

[Jeffrey Wheble · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you want to read and understand haiku as an art form, this is a pretty comprehensive study of the topic. Hard to go wrong and it’s even helpful if you want to write your own.

[Josh Guilar · Rating 4 out of 5]

A good overview of haiku in English and Japanese. I really enjoy it.

[Kelly D. · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book helped deepen my love and understanding of haiku and haiku history

[Drew Cook · Rating 4 out of 5]

“autumn crows fly to devour humans”

[Katrinka]

Really helpful overview of haiku's development over the years.

[Amy · Rating 5 out of 5]

This could have been a giant chore to read, but it wasn't because Sato's voice is so present -- knowledgeable, poetic, clever, and really kinda bitchy sometimes. If he does lectures, I imagine attending one would be entertaining and informative.

I liked that the essays referred back to each other because that really helped me better retain this information overload -- really I have never seriously looked at or thought about haiku before, and so many unheard-of names became confusing. I think in my poetry MFA program we never covered haiku once? Anyway, now I have a bunch of haiku poets to read. Below are some of my favorites from this book. I included dates when I could find them; they are not in chronological order because the essay collection goes back and forth through time sometimes.

Kobayashi Issa, 1819: The world of dew is a world of dew and yet and yet

Shushiki: Awakening from a dream, too, the color the iris

Hashimoto Takako, 1937: Up close to his face near death I said the moon's shining

Hashimoto Takako, 1949: Snow fierce how hugged I was breathless

Hasegawa Sosei: Tomorrow departing my heart picks up a fallen leaf by my hand

Saito Sanki, 1948: The way the snow falls upon the snow so soft

Watanabe Hakusen: This snowy town dammit motherfucker go fuck yourself

Watanabe Hakusen: The war is noisy smoky I want to scream

Onishi Takijiro, 1944: All's done: a catnap for a million years

Kubota Mantaro: All gone nothing left to say in the westerly sun

Suzuki Shizuko, 1952: My hands dancing with a black man cherry blossoms scatter

Suzuki Shizuko: Fog 5,000 nautical miles Kelly Kracke separated dies

Hashimoto Mudo: The Lord Garrison playing war all messed up mah family's sweet-potato patch damn it

Nakamura Kusatao: Bonfire fire sparks: my youth lasted long indeed

Mitsuhashi Takajo: The rainbow banished I'm back to being a wife

Natsume Soseki: Morning cold: I don't move my bones that are alive

[Isak · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the best overview of the haiku form I have read. Essentially a series of focused discursions. Some of the essays are a little too academic or historical to hold much interest for haiku beginners, but some of them are much lighter and accessible. Hiroaki Sato is both a knowledgeable and a personable writer whose expansive work in this volume will open wide the story of haiku to anyone interested in learning more about this divine poetic form.

[Jeff · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of those books that makes you want to read more, and provides plenty of leads on what to read next. Fascinating.

Some of the essays have a meandering, aimless quality. However the essays might meander, the content is superb, and I highly recommend it.

===============================

I just finished rereading «On Haiku». It's even better than I remembered it being.

[Lost Owl · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lots of information not readily available elsewhere.