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FLORENCE
VILEN
Stockholm, Sweden |
Two sides of the
same petal
Florence
Vilén
An aspect of the art of haiku is to say again the same thing that has already
been said before, so many times. Cherries blossom, leaves fall, the moon shines,
the wind is cold, snow hides the landscape ever and again. Some themes may
become so hackneyed that an experienced reader is tempted to sigh about
clichés. Yet, handling them well is the essence of haiku. A comparison of
different haiku on the same theme can be highly rewarding.
Of
course, there are many ways of reading a given text. To some readers, the
personal associations aroused by a certain theme is the most important thing.
Their own emotion and experience will complement whatever is written.
Readers like me, however, will expect the poet to present a scene which is
complete in itself. I think that the more attention we give to the way a haiku
is written, the deeper our understanding will grow.
Let
us look at versions of the theme "white flower and moon". It is a very
poetical subject, which means that there is always an inherent risk of losing
truth to an expectation of how this experience should feel. One haiku on this
theme is by Lenard D. Moore (I quote it from the anthology, Haiku Moment,
p 141, but the index tells us it was first published in 1986):
i..in
the moonlit breeze
........slowly falling one by one:
..............white dogwood petals |
Another is by O. Mabson Southard (I quote from the 3rd edition of The Haiku
Anthology, edited by Cor van den Heuvel, the most comprehensive collection
of North American haiku; this haiku, the index informs us, was first
published in 1971:
....Down
to dark leaf-mold
..........the falling dogwood-petal
................carries its moonlight |
Both haiku describe the same scene. They use the same external form: three
lines, each one containing the standard amount of syllables in haiku, 5 in the
first and the third line, 7 in the second line. (This is falling out of favour
because English has so many short words; it is more popular in other European
languages.) Also both poets have used the same visual effect of indentation: the
lines begin at a different distance from the left-hand margin. This draws
attention to the fact that this is a shaped text, not just jotted-down prose.
Thus, the same external form.
What
about the contents? Several words are used by both poets, although not always in
the same form: moonlight, falling, dogwood and petals. Any reader would have an
idea of moon and falling petals. Some (like me) may never have seen an American
dogwood (not a very pleasant name, by the way, for a plant, is it?) which means
looking it up, on the Internet or in some reference book. A good reference where
Western haiku is concerned is Haiku World, by William Higginson.
The author wants to make the Japanese tradition of kigo - season words -
as alive in the West as it is in Japan, and so he has created long lists with
discussions of the included items. There is quite a lot of useful information in
his book about various types of dogwood, their botanical names, times of
blossoming etc.
Now,
looking at the two haiku, what is the difference between them? And what is the
effect on the reader? In the first poem there is a breeze. We are also told the
colour of the flower and how the petals fall, viz. slowly. This is a fine
sketch, good for keeping a memory of the scene alive.
The
second poem reworks the impression by means of language. We are not told that
the flowers are white or that there is a moon. We are given the opportunity to
deduce this from the expression that the petal "carries its
moonlight". This is less obvious. Also it is more interesting, isn't it?
There
is a contrast in colour, too, between the petal and the darkness of the mould.
The movement is given a goal, as the petal does not simply fall in the breeze.
It falls to its given place, the soil where petals and leaves will eventually
turn into new fertile soil. Thus, we are given a hint of a cycle of life where
death and dissolution have their proper place.
Also,
the flower is active. It does not only fall, passively obeying an outside
influence, as that of the wind in the first poem. It actively carries its white
colour.
There
is a fine use of alliteration, the first letter of a stressed word being
repeated: down, dark, dogwood. In other important words, the "l"-sound
recurs inside the words. The first line has heavy stresses on most syllables.
This tends to emphasize the importance of the movement downwards to the darkness
which is characterized as leaf-mould.
The first haiku is easy to grasp. The second asks for more co-operation from the
reader but, I think, truly rewards the effort (which is certainly not always the
case with convoluted language.)
So,
my subjective conclusion is that Moore's haiku is a pleasant image, while
Southard's haiku is a skilled poem, using language to increase the sense of true
and deep meaning.
In
contemporary English haiku, there is a marked preference for brevity, cutting
out everything that is not absolutely necessary. Sometimes it is called
"minimalism"; personally I think of it as "the lean haiku".
It may work well, but there is always the risk that the flow of natural rhythm
will be lost. On the other hand, when well handled this approach may intensify
the subject and emotion.
Now
we will look at the same scene described in different styles. The first one is
by Betty Drevniok (in the anthology, Haiku Moment, p 44, from a
collection 1986-1987):
Full
moon at midnight:
holding between both hands
the white peony blossom |
The second, by Margaret Chula, was printed in the June issue, November 6, 2001, The
Heron's Nest (also online):
carrying
moonlight
into the house -
white peony |
The first haiku contains slightly more than the maximum of syllables generally
accepted in haiku. It describes the scene clearly, with an emphasis on the act
of holding the flower firmly and a mention of the particular time at night. We
are made to see the similarity between the full moon and the white peony. There
is alliteration in the first line: moon and midnight, and in the second: holding
and hands. There is also assonance: the same vowels in stressed syllables, in
holding and in both. Various o-sounds dominate: full, moon, holding, blossom...
The
second poem has no fixed amount of syllables; actually, the second line will be
the briefest in terms of reading. It has a movement: from outdoors to indoors.
Also, by the choice of a single word we are given the essence of the image, viz.
the surprise of the moon taking over the white flower. (By chance, this is the
same phrase as the one that Southard used so well.) We are given no particulars
about the form or size of either. This is a deliberate omission which draws all
our attention to the whiteness of both, and to the way the flower reflects
moonlight in darkness. By skilled use of language, this haiku emphasizes the
association of moon and peony.
I find comfort in the clarity of the first haiku, but I find real aesthetic
pleasure in the intensity of the second. Not only is every word necessary; if
one should omit any word, the haiku would not work. Also, each word is necessary
in its very place. If the words should be shuffled around the result would be a
rather banal verse, which I will not spell out.
Some
readers prefer transparency of language in haiku, which means that nothing in
the way the words are used should draw attention to itself, away from the
presented scene. Should we not be happy, though, to use all the
possibilities of language while keeping in mind that a reader must be given a
fair chance to see what it all is about? One reason for the recent
popularity of haiku in Western languages might be a feeling that modern poetry
has become far too difficult, a set of jigsaw puzzles in words. A good haiku
should be accessible to anybody who is interested enough to read it. Clarity,
however, does not equal banality. Where the water is clear one can see far into
its depth. If it is muddled, not even the water can be seen.
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