One Dozen Insightful Japanese Haiku

Japanese haiku can charm us because of their challenges to dig under the poems’ commonplace descriptions in order to unearth insights. They convey a keen awareness of an emotion, often have a reference to nature or the four seasons, and may hint at a philosophy of life. One theme often repeated is the transitory characteristic of beautiful things.

A haiku’s expected format is 5 syllables for the first line, seven for the second, and five again for the third.

Since haiku forms a framework that allows the readers to imagine the scene and interpret the meaning from their own experiences, I’ve drawn examples of how this happens in my Dragonfly Trilogy‘s historical-fiction novels. Sumi, the daughter of a samurai, stars with John Cardiff, a New York merchant. Sumi appreciates the haiku classics and knows many by heart. Although these stories include cultural clashes, betrayal, dangerous villains, and also a thread of romance along with searches for truth, each of the three books does include two or more haiku woven into the story.

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What causes the sound in an empty place? The character Sumi recalls this haiku by Nozawa Bonchō. (1653–1714) when she suddenly faces the threat of a mismatched betrothal in The Year of the Barbarian, Book One of the Dragonfly Trilogy. She even wonders if a mean spirit could be seeking revenge. The poet leaves us, like Sumi, to ponder the mystery of unexplained experiences.

Yamaguchi Sodō (1642–1716) extols the moon’s splendor by describing how the observer is so awestruck that he seeks a refuge in his home’s familiarity. Sumi chose to quote this haiku at her family’s celebration of the moon god’s festival. She is amazed when an elder wrongly claims the poet praised “domesticity” and that a female should “value her home and hearth more than the expanse above.”

When a young man who is a guest of Sumi’s family subtly criticizes Sumi’s clothing style at the moon god’s festival, she’s disappointed that no elder corrects him. But then she slyly rebuffs the insult with this gentle haiku by the female poet, Chiyo-ni (1703–1775). Can you imagine the silvery luster cloaking Sumi and the guest’s frown?

 

While frustrated, Sumi sees a washbasin, in whose design the dragonflies must fly in circles. She thinks of this enigmatic haiku by Kobayashi Issa (1763–1828). The washbasins could represent life’s first action and the last one before dying, all too repetitive and common. Sumi questions: Must all of life be a riddle as the poem says? Or meaningless, like that of the dragonflies?

Here’s a link to read more on this website about all three books in the Dragonfly Trilogy:

Dragonfly Wings, Book Two of the trilogy, takes its title from this haiku, begun by a student and perfected by his mentor, Matsuo Bashō (1644–1694). Scholars believe the poet was implying a Buddhist belief that everything has a common essence, but Sumi sees the poem as a reflection of her desire to soar above her confines like a brave dragonfly, and not remain like a pepper pod behind garden walls. She longs to learn about the outside world.

This haiku can’t help but make us compare the towering mountain to the tiny snail, inching upward. It might encourage us to tackle a project one step at a time. But that wasn’t the case for Sumi in Dragonfly Wings, who referenced the poem in her thoughts about the mundane: There had to be more to living than flower arrangement, tea ceremony, embroidery, and plucking the koto’s strings, each lesson progressing as slowly as the poet Issa’s snail crawling up Fuji-san, stone by stone by stone. 

When John Cardiff, the other main character in Dragonfly Wings, demonstrates bravery in a dangerous situation, Sumi thinks he is like the dragonfly depicted in this haiku. The dragonfly was admired by all samurai for its courage, its ability to overpower other insects, and its flight’s long-distance range. In fact, some warriors attached a model of a dragonfly to the front of their helmets. Can you sense the creature’s determination to reach its goal?

Bashō reminds us that all flesh is temporary, the body eventually forsaken like the cicada’s shell. Sumi applies her own unique interpretation. While at the May Day Ball at a Western hotel in Nagasaki, she has the unpleasant experience of being snubbed by several society ladies, who are dressed in splendid gowns, but are narrow-minded and shallow. In Sumi’s imagination, the cicada’s shell aptly describes what the women are becoming. 
  

Sumi  strolls through a grassy field  in the Dragonfly Wings story, imagining the samurai warriors who actually fought an ancient battle where she is walking. She wonders why life seems without meaning, not only for those in long-past wars, but also for herself. But much later, she comes across the similar words of Psalm 103: “As for man, his days are as grass.” Then, she reads, “But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting,” and marvels at the message.

Sumi is especially struck by this haiku when she is so disappointed and disillusioned that she almost wants to die. She has descended from a long line of samurai, so she figures she should not be afraid to take her life. However, this poem, claimed by some to be Bashō’s death poem, makes her think twice about dying. Perhaps death is not the end of one’s experience after all.

Two Autumns, One Spring, Book Three in the Dragonfly Trilogy, gets its title from this haiku byYosa Buson (1716–1784). The poem expresses the sadness of two people forced to part from each other. Fall’s withering leaves and the approaching winter can cause a melancholy feeling, matching the sadness of a farewell. (But note there is “one spring” in the book’s title as well.)

Sumi had learned that the river of stars, called the Milky Way in English, was visible beyond the distant Sado Island, all the way to New York and even farther. Tonight her heart was like the turbulent sea. Yet the Milky Way glowed serenely. If only she could step from star to star until she met her loved one on the starry bridge, she could be assured that all was well. But no one is able to reach the stars.

Do you find this taste of Japanese culture inviting? If you do, then you have this in common with my six novels’ American heroes as they meet heroines and the Japanese people in very different environments.

You are invited to join their adventures.