Autumn
Autumn is prime moon-viewing time in Japan. The yearning summoned up by the combination of chill, moaning winds and a cloud-wreathed moon is one of the major clichés of Japanese aesthetics, known by now throughout the world. But like most clichés, it still seems stark and real in its original formulations. The following are from the Shin-Kokin Waka Shu:
Kamo no Chōmei is most famous as the writer of the Houjouki, but quite a bit of his poetry shows up in the third of the great court anthologies. Dew in classical poetry usually represents tears of longing. Though Chōmei knows that the autumn wind blows equitably--it literally and symbolically scatters dew everywhere--he feels isolated in his yearning, as if he were the only one weeping into his sleeve with stirred memories.
Izumi Shikibu is the daughter of Murasaki Shikibu, the writer of the famous (and massive) Tale of Genji. She's no Princess Shokushi, but she often turns images very well. In this poem, she slyly underscores her melancholy by pointing out that not only is the beauty of the moon keeping her from getting any rest, but she also has no lover to refocus her attention.
The Japanese have a worldwide reputation for loving nature, and that's not unjustifiable; they've written about it for over a millennium. However, one of the reasons that many Western attempts at waka or haiku fail is that they just describe beautiful scenes...and that's it. They sound merely quaint. Japanese poetry--the good stuff--doesn't just document the existence of a stand of pine trees that were sitting there being pretty. It describes nature to convey a moment of keen feeling on the part of the writer, when inner thought and external environment had a spark of connection.
秋風のいたりいたらぬ袖はあらじただわれからの露の夕暮
鴨長明
aki kaze no/itari itaranu/sode ha araji/tada ware kara no/tuyu no yuugure
kamo no chōmei
Though the autumn wind
does not leave as it passes
sleeves here touched, there untouched,
on my sleeve alone settles
the dew of this eventide
Kamo no Chōmei
*******
たのめたる人はなけれど秋の夜は月見て寝べき心地こそせね
和泉式部
tanometaru/hito ha nakeredo/aki no yo ha/tsuki mite nebeki/kokochi koso sene
izumi shikibu
I am not waiting
for a suitor to arrive,
but this autumn night
I sit gazing at the moon
without any thought of sleep
Izumi Shikibu
Kamo no Chōmei is most famous as the writer of the Houjouki, but quite a bit of his poetry shows up in the third of the great court anthologies. Dew in classical poetry usually represents tears of longing. Though Chōmei knows that the autumn wind blows equitably--it literally and symbolically scatters dew everywhere--he feels isolated in his yearning, as if he were the only one weeping into his sleeve with stirred memories.
Izumi Shikibu is the daughter of Murasaki Shikibu, the writer of the famous (and massive) Tale of Genji. She's no Princess Shokushi, but she often turns images very well. In this poem, she slyly underscores her melancholy by pointing out that not only is the beauty of the moon keeping her from getting any rest, but she also has no lover to refocus her attention.
The Japanese have a worldwide reputation for loving nature, and that's not unjustifiable; they've written about it for over a millennium. However, one of the reasons that many Western attempts at waka or haiku fail is that they just describe beautiful scenes...and that's it. They sound merely quaint. Japanese poetry--the good stuff--doesn't just document the existence of a stand of pine trees that were sitting there being pretty. It describes nature to convey a moment of keen feeling on the part of the writer, when inner thought and external environment had a spark of connection.