Classic Haiku: A New Zealand Perspective by Nola Borrell They broke our rules all the time, those haijin. We like a glimpse of eternity but philosophical statements are not for us. We’re cagey about imagery: our dew seldom sparkles like diamonds,[1] our butterflies are never spirits.[2] Bashō’s skylark may be free and disengaged from all things;[3] our skylarks go about their business. Issa can encourage a lean frog[4] and invite a sparrow to play[5] but we stay out of it. And when our hearts teem with cares and anxieties[6] we never actually say. As for go to the pine,[7] look at Ernie who can write forty haiku without leaving his desk and wins all the competitions. + We’ve had enough of cherry trees, we’d like a flash of rata or pohutakawa. We censor wild imagination; our bathing women are never coveted by crows.[8] Life may be brief as morning glory[9] —some things we don’t want to hear, but some: Coolness! The sound of the bell Leaving the bell.[10] we can’t forget. From Waking Echoes, Aotearoa, New Zealand: Korimako Press, 2013, pages 71–74. First published in Kokako #1 in 2003. [1]
“A drop of dew / Sits on a rock / Like a diamond.” —Bosha Footnote poems quoted from Classic Haiku, selected and translated by Yuzuru Miura (Rutland, Vermont and Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle, 1991). |