Status Updates From The Poetry of Chiyo-ni: The...

On kireji, from the glossary:

Ya indicates an emphatic pause and divides the haiku into two parts (usually indicated in English by a colon, dash or exclamation point). Keri adds emotion to the preceding verb and marks a pause. Kana gives emphasis to the word preceding it, with an emotional effect like a soft sigh, usually marking the end of a haiku.

A renga link from Shisenjo:

a writing table
paper and the moon—
such richness

Patricia Donegan's essay on renga actually comes out and says that the rules were meant to ensure no continuity in the poem as a whole, that it was closer to an exercise in Buddhist meditation—of all times and seasons at once—than a cohesive piece of work. I don't enjoy renga as an art form, but I can appreciate it as a social activity, a kind of literary game, and Donegan's description makes me see that appeal more.

This is one of Chiyo-ni's best known Buddhist haiku and is supposedly expressing the peace of detachment, but I just love how dismissive it is:

anyway
leave it to the wind—
dry pampas grass

Got this back from the library just in time to finish up the winter section:

falling down laughing
at others falling down—
snow viewing

Managed to squeeze in a few more poems before my loan expired. Now on page 189.

This book is about to self-destruct, so for future reference, I'm on page 184.

but for their voices
the herons would disappear—
this morning's snow

I feel like many of Chiyo-ni's haiku depend on their zen exhibitionism and don't offer much to the non-enlightened reader. But occasionally I find one that is enjoyable or meaningful even without the zen background, like the previous gourd poem, and this one:

autumn field—
some grasses flower
some don't

Chiyo-ni's other famous haiku:

a hundred gourds
from the heart
of one vine

Chiyo-ni's most famous haiku:

morning glory–
the well-bucket entangled
I ask for water

the mosquito net
with a corner untied—
ah, the moon

I don't care what this poem is really about, something zen, I'm sure, or that there's some question of whether Chiyo-ni even wrote it, I just love how it sounds like the moon's snuck inside the netting.

change of kimono:
showing only her back
to the blossom's fragrance

cool breeze–
enclosed in my kimono sleeves
till falling asleep

the coolness–
of the bottom of her kimono
in the bamboo grove

keeping cool–
in the deep night
strangers on the bridge

touching
the fishing line–
the summer moon

butterfly–
you also get mad
some days

among a field
of horsetail weeds–
temple ruins

I like the way this is structured, that by putting the horsetails first it suggests they were there first and the ruins are just incidental. Happily I can confirm that this feeling is even stronger in the original:

tsukutsukushi
kokora ni tera no
ato mo ari

And my own quick and dirty literal translation:

horsetail plants
around here temple's
ruins also here

Libby remembered where I was, but not my highlights. :(

Hey, this came back to me early! The other borrower must have given up on it.

This went back to the library and since they only have one copy and two people are ahead of me, it'll be a while before I see it again.

woman's desire
deeply rooted–
the wild violets

even falling down
it still smiles--
the festival doll