Reading More and Writing Better: Valley of Booze and Regret Kyoka

After Psalm 23:4

even though

I walk through the valley

of booze and regret

I'll fear no one but myself

alone under the bedsheets

Chen-ou Liu

FYI: The joshi (prefatory note), “After Psalm 23:4,” invokes the biblical verse, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me.” The allusion serves as the thematic anchor of this kyoka, establishing a pointed irony: a passage traditionally associated with spiritual comfort, unwavering faith, and divine protection is recast as the gritty, modern, and comically pathetic reality of a severe hangover—or a wave of life regret.

The kyoka opens with “even though,” a phrase that immediately establishes tension. It leaves the reader suspended, anticipating a trial or obstacle worthy of the solemn declaration to follow. This understated opening echoes the gravity of the biblical source while preparing the ground for its irreverent subversion.

Ls 2&3, “I walk through the valley / of booze and regret,” enact the central parody. The sweeping imagery of the biblical valley initially retains its epic resonance, only to be abruptly grounded in the familiar consequences of drinking and poor decisions. The line break prolongs the journey, allowing the reader to anticipate something profound before the descent into “booze and regret” delivers its deflating punch. The grand spiritual landscape becomes a painfully ordinary terrain of self-inflicted misery.

In L 4, “I'll fear no one but myself,” the poem directly inverts the Psalm's declaration, “I will fear no evil.” The source text's external dangers and spiritual adversities give way to an entirely internal antagonist: the speaker. There is no monster to confront, no enemy to overcome. The threat is one's own conduct, and the confidence of the original declaration becomes an admission of self-inflicted trouble. This turn establishes the poem's self-deprecating humor while adding a note of genuine psychological unease.

L 5, “alone under the bedsheets,” brings the poem's grand scale crashing down to earth. The expansive biblical valley gives way to the cramped, intimate space of a bed, where the speaker retreats from the world—and perhaps from the consequences of their own actions. The word “alone” is especially significant. In Psalm 23, the speaker finds comfort in the assurance of God's presence; here, that reassurance has vanished. The speaker is left alone with the one adversary they cannot escape: themselves.

This reversal captures the spirit of kyōka, the Japanese tradition of humorous or satirical poetry that playfully subverts established literary conventions and elevated subjects. By borrowing the solemnity of scripture and bringing it into collision with the indignities of everyday life, the poem transforms spiritual reassurance into comic self-reproach.

The humor lies not merely in the contrast between the sacred and the profane, but in the recognition that the speaker's predicament is entirely self-inflicted. The valley may be metaphorical, the danger largely psychological, and the refuge embarrassingly small. Yet the underlying vulnerability is real.

Ultimately, the poem replaces divine protection with uncomfortable self-awareness. There is no shepherd to guide the speaker through the valley, no promise of deliverance—only booze, regret, and the bedsheets beneath which the speaker hides from both the world and the self.