This
is the third time that I have had the pleasure of reviewing
a collection by Yoshiko Yoshino, the guiding spirit of Japan's
Matsuyama poets (Haiku Sakura: MH summer 1995; Budding
Sakura: MH fall 2000). When I received a copy of her
latest book, Tsuru ("Crane"), it was like
meeting and catching up with an old friend.
This
collection follows a refreshingly natural seasonal arrangement
of New Year's, winter, spring, summer, autumn, winter, New
Year's eve. The inclusion of two winter sections, pre- and
post-New Year's, makes for a more natural feel than the
traditional saijiki method of lumping all winter poems into
one section. The haiku appear one to a page: original Japanese
texts, rômaji versions, and elegant, well-formed English
translations by Lee Gurga and Emiko Miyashita. The introductory
essay by Lee Gurga is informative and insightful. Noting
that her father was Shiki's friend, Gurga writes, aptly,
"If we look carefully we might even be able to make
out Shiki's ghost between her lines!"
Shiki's
ghost notwithstanding, "Mother Yoshiko," as her
friends know her, has forged her own distinct poetic style.
With attentiveness to everyday, domestic reality, she discovers
the deeper textures of the ordinary:
My
shampooed hair
I comb and comb it
till my breast is cold |
Snow-shaded
kitchen
I boil the crabs
bright red |
A
consummate sense of artistic restraint is evident throughout
the collection, as what she leaves out becomes just as significant
as what she puts into each haiku. Her deft, gentle touch
is just right:
Pomegranate
in bloom
so beautiful from a distance
I don't draw near |
And
the inner reality of heart and mind are evoked and honored
in the poems just as poignantly as things external:
Huge
fireplace
I boil down my words
for the reply |
In
places, Yoshiko makes wry reference to the status of women
in maledominated society. One such example alludes to a
temple's kekkai, which a footnote describes as "an
area into which impurities (i.e., women) are not allowed
to enter:"
Monk's
inner sanctuary
I'm kept outside with
double cherry blossoms |
Though
she's not allowed inside, the poet enjoys a quiet victory,
drinking in the beauty of the blossoms.
In
one haiku, Yoshiko alludes to a haiku master near and dear
to me:
Issa's
Memorial Day
I let the gray starling feed on
a persimmon |
Born
of peasant farmers in mountainous Shinano Province, Issa
went to the great city of Edo (today's Tokyo) at a young
age, where he learned that migrant outsiders like himself
were referred to, derisively, as "gray starlings,"
a fact that the mature Issa would acknowledge and pun with
in several haiku. In Yoshiko's tender poem, the gray starling
nibbling on the persimmon is Issa.
There
are so many memorable haiku in Tsuru, I wish that there
were space to go on and on, citing them all, but then there
would be no need for you to purchase this handsome, hard-cover
book that is sure to become a treasure in your personal
library. Therefore, I'll follow Yoshiko's example and exercise
self-restraint, quoting just one more, my favorite of the
volume:
Without
makeup
within the snowscape
I am |
|