Showing posts with label Ishikawa Takuboku. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ishikawa Takuboku. Show all posts

Saturday, May 11, 2013

One Man’s Maple Moon: Mother Tanka by Ishikawa Takuboku

English Original

kidding around
carried my mother
piggyback
I stopped dead, and cried,
she's so light...

Takuboku: Poems to Eat translated by Carl Sesar

Ishikawa Takuboku


Chinese Translation (Traditional)

為了好玩
將母親背在
我的背上 ...
我停止走動,並哭泣
因為她是如此地輕

Chinese Translation (Simplified)

为了好玩
将母亲背在
我的背上...
我停止走动,并哭泣
因为她是如此地轻


Bio Sketch

One of the most popular tanka poets of all time, Ishikawa Takuboku (1886-1912) began as a member of  the Myōjō ("Morning Star") group, the organ of a poetry circle called New Poetry Society which was founded by Yosano Tekkan in 1899. His major works were A Handful of Sand and Sad Toys. Takuboku was especially known for his advocacy of new poetry called “poems to eat.” For more information, see my "To the Lighthouse" post, titled "Poems to Eat."

Thursday, April 11, 2013

To the Lighthouse: Revision, Revision, and Revision


                                                                              this evening
                                                                              I took a comma out
                                                                              of the poem
                                                                              summer stars reflected
                                                                              on the lake of my mind


Read in the context of the Japanese poetic tradition, the night of June 23, 1908, was the beginning of one of those unique creative interludes experienced by the gifted few. The poverty-stricken poet Takuboku Ishikawa wrote at least 246 tanka in fifty hours. Most importantly, 100 of these tanka written in those three days were published in the July 1908 issue of Myojo, edited by tanka reformer Tekkan Yosano (Akiko Yosano's husband). Written at this Muse-inspired time were such famous tanka (Goldstein and Shinoda, p. 18)


on a white strip of sand
on a tiny island
in the eastern sea
drowned in tears
I play with a crab

kidding around
carried my mother
piggy-back
I stopped dead, and cried,
she's so light...

no way back
to 14 --
when
whispering my name
I wept
(Note: The translations above are from Carl Sesar, pp. 27, 33, 61)


For Takuboku, the creative process often didn't end when he finished the work. Although most of his tanka constantly give the impression of having been composed spontaneously, he was actually a painstaking revisionist. He often revised his tanka on republication (Ueda, pp. 117-8). For example, 


Version A, composed on the night of June 25, 1908

For no reason
I left my home
and for no reason
I returned: this I have done
five times already.

Version B, the July issue of Morning Star

For no reason
I left my native province
and for no reason
I returned: this I have done
five times already.

Version C, A Handful of Sand, 1910

For no reason I left my home
and for no reason I returned -- though
my friend laughs at this habit of mine!


For a struggling poet like me (and maybe including some of you), the only way to get a work published is to revise, revise, and revise. As you know, much has been written about revision. But I would like to share with you the following passage from Edward Weeks's book, entitled This Trade of Writing:

A. Edward Newton tells a story of Oscar Wilde at an English house party. Pleading the necessity of working while the humor was on, he begged to be excused from joining the other guests. In the evening his hostess asked him what he had accomplished, “This morning,” he said, “I put a comma in one of my poems.” Surprised, the lady inquired whether the afternoon’s work had been equally exhausting. “Yes,” said Wilde, passing his hand wearily over his brow, “this afternoon I took it out again.” Every writer worth rereading has suffered from this backing-and-filling process.… When the ideas begin to run smoothly they can so easily run away with us, leaving behind pages which in a colder mood seem full of extravagance. In the heat of composition it is not wise to halt for precision; that must come later, the search for the exact word, the smooth transition, the terse phrase that will save half a page…. Revision is the worst possible drudgery; yet no book has been made full and rich without it.


References:

1 Ishikawa, Takuboku, translated by Sanford Goldstein Seishi Shinoda, Romaji Diary and Sad Toys
2 Sesar, Carl, Takuboku: Poems to Eat  
3 Ueda, Makoto, Modern Japanese Poets and the Nature of Literature 
4 Weeks, Edward, This Trade of Writing

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

To the Lighthouse: Ishikawa Takuboku's Conception of "Poems to Eat"

                                                                 pulsating saliva
                                                                 stands at the corners
                                                                 of my mouth --
                                                                 no happiness like mine
                                                                 I have been eating poems
                                                                 (for Ishikawa Takuboku)

…

Since arriving in Canada, I was frustrated by my learning experience in terms of the depth and scope of the classroom discussions as well as stressed by the financial burden. So, I quit my studies and wrote essays in my adopted language, English. After two years of endeavor, I published three essays (“Disrupting Imperial Linear Time: Virginia Woolf’s Temporal Perception in ‘To the Lighthouse’”, “On Gibsonian Cyberspace in ‘Neuromancer’”, and “Cops: Packing and Policing the Real”) in Cultural Studies, but got almost no attention from the scholars in the related fields. Furthermore, I was frustrated by my incapacity to mastering English quickly, and also struggled with my newly-racialized identities. My pent-up emotions began spilling over onto pieces of scrap paper in the form of free verse, later of tanka and haiku, and the more I wrote, the more I thought about becoming a poet...

…

After almost a year of striving to write so-called free verse poetry without much success, I came across a book of tanka poetry, Sad Toys, written by Ishikawa Takuboku and translated by Sanford Goldstein and Seishi Shinoda. In the introduction, Takuboku emphasized that

My mind, which was yearning after some indescribable thing from morning to night, could find an outlet to some extent only by making poems. And I had absolutely nothing except that mind… I want to say this: a very complicated process was needed to turn actual feelings into poetry… Poetry must not be what is usually called poetry. It must be an exact report, an honest diary, of the changes in a man’s emotional life. Accordingly, it must be fragmentary; it must not have organization… Each second is one which never comes back in our life. I hold it dear. I don’t want to let it pass without doing anything for it. To express that moment, tanka, which is short and takes not much time to compose, is most convenient…

Sad Toys is full of simple, plain, detailed description of Takuboku’s social and inner life. The emotional power, socio-political sensibilities and colloquial language of his tanka, a kind of poetry in the moment and for the moment, appealed to me, and I came to view tanka as a poetic diary that recorded the changes in the emotional life of the poet. I went on to read Carl Sesar’s Takuboku: Poems to Eat, and got a deeper understanding of Takuboku’s conception of a new kind of poetry, “poems to eat:”
 
The name means poems made with both feet upon the ground. It means poems written without putting any distance from actual life. They are not delicacies, or dainty dishes, but food indispensable for us in our daily meal. To define poetry in this way may be to pull it down from its established position, but to me it means to make poetry, which has added nothing or detracted nothing from actual life, into something which cannot be dispensed with.

In some aspects, Takuboku’s view on poetry is similar to that of Dionne Brand: “Poetry is here, just here. Something wrestling with how we live… something dangerous, something honest (Bread Out of Stone, p. 183).” (an excerpt from my Simply Haiku Interview with Robert D. Wilson) As Donald Keene emphasizes in Dawn to the West: Japanese Literature of the Modern Era : Poetry, Drama, Criticism, “Takuboku's tanka share little with the traditional tanka in diction, mood, or subject. When they succeed it is not because of their evocative charm but they hit us with both fists (p. 45).


Selected Tanka Translated by Carl Sesar

never forget
that man, tears
running down his face
a handful of sand
held out to show me

wrote GREAT
in the sand
a hundred times
forgot about dying
and went on home

like being
stoned out of town
I left --
the hurt of that
won't go away

give me
the creeps
some memories
like putting on
dirty socks

just staring
at that
cloudy sky
I feel like
killing someone

got five blocks
that's all –
tried walking
like someone
with something to do


Note:

The following is Makoto Ueda's review of  Takuboku’s most celebrated writing, "Poems to Eat," a short autobiographical essay published in 1090 that traces his growth as a poet (Modern Japanese Poets and the Nature of Literature, pp. 104-5)

Its opening section is filled with negative rhetoric, vehemently rejecting the stance of Takuboku’s younger days… the latter part of the essay is an exposition of his newly discovered poetic, whose essence can be seen in the excerpts below:

At this stage in his life, Takuboku defined the poet as follows:

A true poet must be as resolute as a statesman in reforming himself and in putting his philosophy into practice. He must be as singleminded as a businessman in giving a focus to his life. He must be as clearheaded as a scientist, and as straightforward as a primitive. He must have all these qualities and thereby make a clam, honest report on the changes of his psyche as they happen from one moment to the next, describing them without a word of adornment or falsehood.

In a corollary to the first definition, he defined poetry:

Poetry must not be the so-called poetry. It must be a detailed report of changes that take place in a man’s emotional life (I cannot think of a better word); it must be an honest diary. Hence, it must be fragmentary – it must not have unity (Poetry with unity, namely philosophical literature, will turn into prose fiction when it takes an inductive form; into drama when it takes a deductive form. True poetry is related to fiction and drama in the same way daily reports of receipts and disbursements are related to a monthly or yearly balance sheet of accounts). Furthermore, unlike a minister gathering material for his sermon or a streetwalker looking for a certain  kind of man , a poet must never have a preconceived purpose.

…

In a sense, “Poems to Eat,” expresses an idea of poetry to which Takuboku had unconsciously subscribed from the beginning, for if the essay’s central thesis is an equation of poem and diary, he had been a diarist all along…