English Original
throbbing headache
blinds drawn against the dawn
I picture
in the rise and fall of notes
birds flitting in the cold light
A Hundred Gourds, 1:4, September 2012
Sonam Chhoki
Chinese Translation (Traditional)
劇烈的頭痛
並把窗簾緊閉以阻擋黎明
我彷彿看到
在聲調的起伏中
鳥兒飛掠冷光
Chinese Translation (Simplified)
剧烈的头痛
并把窗帘紧闭以阻挡黎明
我仿佛看到
在声调的起伏中
鸟儿飞掠冷光
Bio Sketch
Sonam Chhoki finds the Japanese short form poetry resonates with her Tibetan Buddhist upbringing. She is inspired by her father, Sonam Gyamtsho, the architect of Bhutan's non-monastic modern education and by her mother, Chhoden Jangmu, who taught her: “Being a girl doesn’t mean you can’t do anything.” She is the principal editor, and co-editor of haibun for the United Haiku and Tanka Society journal, cattails.
The greatest strength of this tanka lies in its effectively executed transition from physical confinement to imaginative escape.
ReplyDeleteIn Ls 1&2—“throbbing headache / blinds drawn against the dawn”—the poem establishes a claustrophobic, airless interior dominated by sensory pain. Then, L3, “I picture,” acts as a crucial psychological hinge. It shifts the poem's trajectory from passive suffering to active creation, allowing Ls 4&5 to open outward into sound and light: “in the rise and fall of notes / birds flitting in the cold light.”
The phrase “rise and fall of notes” is particularly effective. It deftly bridges the gap between structured music and natural birdsong without explicitly stating the connection. Furthermore, the concluding image of “cold light” introduces a compelling emotional ambiguity. While the imaginative shift offers a release from the dim room, the light remains clinical and unyielding—making the ending deeply evocative rather than neatly comforting.