We wish to introduce a new feature
to honour and remember our fellow haiku poets who, to our sorrow, have passed
away, under the common title: "Requiem for A Haijin".
In this Issue, we pay respect
to Tomita Tomie (surname followed by given name) who died last year at the age
of eighty-nine. A "chaki chaki no Edokko" (a typical or "born
Edo-person" = Tokyoite), she was vivacious, quick-witted, down-to-earth and
fun. And she will be sorely missed.
Tomie was born on 1 May 1912
(Meiji 45) to an old family of "o-shiruko-ya": a restaurant, serving
red-bean soup, a Japanese delicacy. Called Kinozen, the restaurant dates back to
the Edo period (1603-1867) and is still prosperous to this day in the same
location at Kagura-zaka, Tokyo. After graduation from Kojimachi Women’s High
School, she helped the family business, later becoming its president. She
studied haiku under Ikeuchi Takeshi.
Tomie loved people as much as
haiku and had a wide network of friends, which was extended overseas in her
later years. She loved journeys too, and was often an active member of may long
ginko. On her several visits to England, she made regular pilgrimages to visit
the monument of Takahama Kyoshi at Kew Gardens, London, which commemorates the
great poet’s visit in 1936. Tomie belonged to the Hototogisu School which
Kyoshi created, and was very close to Haruko, a daughter of Kyoshi, and also to
Tsubaki, a grand-daughter of Kyoshi. One of her teachers late in her life was
Takashi, a great-grandson of Kyoshi. She was looking forward to another visit to
England, which sadly, she could not make.
rondon e tabi-datsu kami wo arai-keri
Tomie
washing my hair -
off for another journey
to London
[Versions by ST and hereafter]
Whenever I went back to Japan, I visited her at
her restaurant. Tomie told me tales of her long life and how Japan that had
changed over the years. I can still remember how her face filled with emotion as
she told me about the devastation of Tokyo after the American air raids, and how
she started serving red-bean soup to the population starving in the rubble. She
said that all the happy events and traumatic episodes were threaded by haiku
which kept her going. Haiku was her way of life, and her way of life was haiku.
In her introduction to Tomie’s haiku
anthology, Shobu Fuku (Arranging Irises), Tsubaki writes about the
characteristics of her haiku poems, saying that they are free from laboured
unintelligibility and conceptualisation, and that they use plain language with
elegance and distinct sensibility. One of Tomie's haiku which Tsubaki (tsubaki
means camellia) praises follows:
furimuke-ba tooi tsubaki to natte ishi
turning around to see -
the camellia flowers are now
far in the distance
My humble dedication to Tomie is:
sonokami no warai ni nitari kaze kaoru
summer wind –
fragrance resembles her smile
of olden days
A selection
of Tomie’s haiku from the Shobu Fuku anthology
nanto naku iro aru yona hana no yami
do I see, or not -
cherry blossom in darkness
vaguely coloured?
shoubu haku o-mise no kyaku no te wo karite
arranging irises –
with my restaurant client’s
helping hand
akikaze ni iccho no iro nagare-keri
autumn wind –
the colour of a butterfly
has flown across
kutabire-te kake-taru ishi mo ume no mae
tired from walk
I have sat myself on a stone
in front of a plum tree
ima ichi-do ume no ka hakobu kaze wo matsu
I wait and wait
for another puff of wind, carrying
perfume of plum blossom
mi ni kishi to iu-yori ai ni koshi sakura
I have come to meet
rather than view --
cherry blossom
natsu-giri ni kakure-shi ichi-ji mata
araware-shi
a temple disappeared
in summer fog and now
reappeared
jougo cho shiawase hitori shinshu kumu
I can drink a lot
and I am happy about it –-
drinking new sake
kowai hodo ima shiawase ya ko no ha gami
my hair thinning –
I've never been happier, so much
so, that I feel frightened
na wo toe-ba nanja monja to iu kare-ki
I ask: What’s your name?
the withered tree replies:
gibberish and gibberish
Next
Page: A Tribute to Niji Fuyuno - Haiku of Niji Fuyuno
