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(Originally posted September 9th, 2008)
Butterfly
asleep
folded soft on
temple bell ... Then bronze gong rang!
This wonderful little poem is by Buson (1715 - 1783), one of the greatest masters of the peculiarly Japanese poetic form, the haiku. On the elaborately sophisticated poetic form, see Haiku at Jane Reichhold's wonderful Web site devoted to poetry in many forms and (as you might expect) the article Haiku - Wikipedia.
But
perhaps my point here is not the excellence
or humor of Buson's poetry. I know the
poem from a little anthology, Japanese Haiku,
Mount Vernon, New York, 1956 (Peter Pauper
Press). I remember quite well buying the book
when I was about fifteen. I was so excited by
it that I immediately - well, as soon as I
could, given the limitation of funds - bought
its three companion volumes of haiku;
the four books have survived various
misfortunes and remain among my most dearly
held treasures.
For the sake of illustration, I give here a scan of the page from which Buson's poem comes.
These four volumes, which
meant a great deal to me
(and they still do) cost a
dollar each. Each book is,
despite the low price,
beautifully designed and printed, though not
expensively so. Regrettably,
no credit is given for the
translations; I have no idea who did them.
The publisher, Peter Pauper
Press, is still in business,
and, to judge from its Web
pages, still produces
attractive books and similar
things at reasonable prices.
But when I searched, I found no trace of Japanese
Haiku or its companion volumes.
Even a search of Amazon.com turned up only a few
used copies. The little book
is out of print. In today's
"ownership society," where
"free enterprise" flourishes,
we discard whatever
doesn't sell, laughing on our
way to the bank. And in the
process, we trample on beauty.
If you can't make a haiku out of that, you don't deserve to speak your own language.
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