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Golden dew drops on a black flower - sounds like haiku. Handsomely. Conveys the thought of something distant and mysterious. About distant wanderings and romantic pirates. About a dead man's chest and a bottle of rum. About the freshness of the morning and the juiciness of life. About colors of flowers and vast expanses. About the smooth murmur of water and the swaying of a light curtain. So excited are the little three-verses of ancient Japanese poets. In this little post, I've collected individual haiku dedicated to dew and flowers.
Haiku - Japanese verses about dew
***
And I want to live in autumn
To this butterfly: drinks hastily
Dew from the chrysanthemum.
***
white chamomile
Studded with diamonds.
Overflowed…
***
crystal tear
stuck on a branch
Early dawn.
***
Glittering dewdrops.
But they have a taste of sadness.
Don't forget!
***
The dew disappeared so quickly
Like she has nothing to do
In our impure world.
***
The dew has fallen
And on all the thorns
Droplets hang.
***
Dew beads
Scattered in the field
The rays of the sun.
***
The rock breathes poison.
All around the grass turned red.
Even dew on fire.
***
Maybe he once served
Inkstone this stone?
The hole in it is full of dew.
***
Dew on saffron flowers!
She spills on the ground
And become plain water...
… and about flowers
***
Oh, how many of them are in the fields!
But everyone blooms in their own way, -
This is the highest feat of a flower!
***
And I am a simple man!
Only bindweed blooms
I eat my morning rice.
***
Flowers withered.
Seeds are falling, falling
Like tears...
***
Take a close look!
Shepherd's purse flowers
You will see under the fence.
***
They fly to the ground
Going back to old roots...
Separation of flowers!
***
First snow in the morning.
He barely ducked
Narcissus leaves.
***
Get up off the ground again
Fading in the mist, chrysanthemums,
Crushed by heavy rain.
***
Cherries in full bloom!
And the dawn is the same as always
There, over a distant mountain...
***
Still flicker in the eyes
Mountain cherries ... And they draw with fire
Along them are fireflies over the river.
***
Like a fragile young man
O flowers forgotten in the fields,
You wilt in vain.
***
I ran out of rice in the house ...
I'll put it in a pumpkin from under the grain
"Women's beauty" flower.
***
Oh, holy delight!
On green, on young foliage
Sunlight is pouring.
A stupid person has many things to worry about. Those who make art a source of wealth... are unable to keep their art alive. - M a ts u o B a s e
MATSUO BASHO (1644 - 1694) - the most famous Japanese poet and theorist of verse was born into a poor but educated samurai family of Matsuo Yozaemon. Having received a good education at home, the future poet was an official for some time, but dry official service was not for him. I had to live on the modest means delivered by poetry lessons.
That's all I'm rich in!
Light as my life
Pumpkin gourd. (Translated by Vera Markova - V.M. further)
* * *
A fruitful poet - Basho left 7 anthologies: "Winter Days", " spring days”, “Dead Field”, “Gourd Gourd”, “Straw Cape of the Monkey” (books 1 and 2), “A Bag of Coal”, lyrical travel diaries, prefaces, letters about art and the essence of creativity .. Before Basho, in contrast to the highly aesthetic "tanka", "haiku" was closer to everyday epigram containing any emotion (unsigned haiku are given in the translation of the author of this article - S. Sangye):
Porridge alone with water - completely
the red cat was emaciated. ...But love!
Sweet roof song!
* * *
Autumn. Boredom - sighs of rain.
So what? Longing in the rain -
Let's fly to the beauties! (Svetlana Sangye - S.S. further)
* * *
Here it is necessary to make a reservation: x o k k y is the definition of a strophic form, regardless of the genre - on the content of the verse. Landscape lyrical genre x o k k y is called - x a y k y. Japanese poetic satire is collectively defined as - k yo k u. In Basyo, the lyrical philosophical overtones of ha y k y are often combined with the comical nature of the situation, which gives the poems a special charm. But it also makes them very, very difficult to translate.
Different languages have different possibilities of poetic expression. Hence, there are two types of translations tanku: in some, an attempt to observe three lines and a rigid number of syllables: 1st line - 5 syllables; 2nd - 7; 3rd - 5 or less. Moreover, strict adherence to this rule in our language is limited: in general Russian word- longer plus is far from always possible to omit the syntactic connectives necessary in the sentence, which are not in the language of hieroglyphs. The translations of G.O. Monzeller in form - outwardly the most correct and close to the strophic of the original.
Translations of the second type, when breaking the external form of x o k y, tend to convey the elusive philosophical content: the path is tempting and dangerous, hopelessly enticing the author of this article. Is it completely possible - both emotionally, and rhythmically, and figuratively --- adequate a translation from an Eastern language into a European one while preserving all the shades of the original?.. Perhaps that is why many translators left equivalent translations of both types in terms of skill: and even with such a double translation content of three the lineman's x o k k y is not fully expressed.
* * *
The moon laughs out the window - she
fell asleep in my poor hut
gold on all four corners.
* * *
The moon is gone - the gold has taken away.
The table is empty, the four corners are dark.
...Oh, fleeting taste! (S.S.)
I planted a banana
and now they have become disgusting to me
sprouts of weeds ... (V.M.)
* * *
I planted a banana near the house - and weeds
Doesn't give me peace. And that weed was true
Companion of my long wanderings.
* * *
I planted a banana at the house, -
And the weeds became disgusting to me ...
Companion of my wanderings! (S.S.)
Near the modest hut donated to him by one of the students, the poet himself planted a banana. It is believed that it was he who gave the poet a pseudonym: "banana" - Jap. "basho". Since 1884 last decade In his life, Basho travels a lot on foot, alone or with one of his students.
Let's hit the road! I'll show you
How cherries bloom in distant Esino,
My old hat. (V. M.)
* * *
How the autumn wind whistles!
Then only understand my poems,
When you spend the night in the field. (V. M.)
* * *
A wicker hat (as monks usually wore), a simple brown cloak, with a bag around the neck, like all pilgrims and beggars; in his hand was a staff and a Buddhist rosary - such was the simple travel attire. In the bag were two or three books of poetry, a flute, and a tiny wooden gong.
On the way, I fell ill.
And everything is running, circling my dream
across scorched fields. (V. M.)
* * *
Got sick on the way.
Dreaming: a scorched field
I circle endlessly. (G.O. Monzeller)
* * *
I fell ill on the way. It seems -
I'm circling the scorched path
in infinity. (S.S.)
I barely got better
Exhausted for the night...
And suddenly - wisteria flowers! (V. M.)
* * *
Exhausted, I'm up for the night
Barely dobrel ... Oh, the snow of wisteria is here, -
Let's rain flower generously everything is entwined! (S.S.)
* * *
Simple lovers of poetry and aristocrats - everyone wanted to get a visit from the already famous wanderer, who did not stay anywhere for a long time. The source of poetry - travel served to strengthen fame, but were hardly useful for the poet's fragile health. But wandering contributed to the principle of “eternal loneliness” or “sadness of poetic loneliness” (wabi) gleaned from Zen philosophy. Freeing from worldly fuss, impoverished wanderings helped to serve only the highest sacred purpose: “Wabi and poetry (fugue) are far from everyday needs ...” (Basho's afterword to his collection “Empty Chestnuts”).
The sacred meaning must be freed from everyday life in order to transform it, to reveal the radiance of eternity through its prism:
Soaring larks above
I sat down in the sky to rest -
On the crest of the pass. (V.M.)
* * *
Relax crouched
Above the larks I am;
Mountain pass... (G.O. Monzeller)
* * *
In the azure of larks above
I rest. I'm tired. heavenly mountain
Pass. And the last step is even higher. (S.S.)
________________________
Cobwebs in the sky.
I see the image of the Buddha again
At the foot of the empty. (V.M.)
* * *
Cobwebs in the sky - threads
Multicolored miracle. Buddha image -
Everywhere, everywhere: the world is his footstool. (S.S.)
Basho seeks to reflect the world and the person involved in it with minimal means: as shockingly short as possible - unforgettable briefly. And once you read it, hokku basho impossible to forget! Verily, this is the “sad enlightenment of detachment” (sabi):
In autumn twilight
Leisure time stretches for a long time
Transient life. (V.M.)
* * *
Moon or morning snow...
Admiring the beautiful, I lived as I wanted.
This is how I end the year. (V.M.)
Art and aesthetics do not serve as a direct moralization, however, they carry the highest morality - the principle of "instant insight":
On Buddha's birthday
He was born into the world
Little deer. (V.M.)
* * *
You are sad, listening to the cry of the monkeys!
Do you know how a child cries
Abandoned in the autumn wind? (V.M.)
_______________________
The old pond is dead.
A frog jumped ... a moment -
Quiet water splash. (G.O. Monzeller)
* * *
Old pond.
The frog jumped into the water.
A surge in silence. (V.M.)
* * *
The pond is dying... Sleeping
In the water of the year Splash frog -
Ripples - the water closed. (S.S.)
It is surprising that the vision of the world by a Japanese poet of the 17th century is sometimes very close to Russian poets in the 19th century, hardly familiar with Japanese poetry. The consonances with Basho are especially bright in the verses of Afanasy Fet. Of course, concrete realities - flowers, animals, elements of the landscape - in different countries various. But mostly, as if seen with one eye.
Naturally, the Russian translators of Basho, who knew Fet from childhood, could add coincidences: a translator free from influences is from the realm of fantasy (for the translator was born in a certain country and educated in a certain way). And all the same, such coincidences could appear only on the condition that there are consonances in the Japanese and Russian originals. Let's compare Basho's lines with the excerpts from Fet's poems given in the bottom column:
B A S Y
The lark sings
With a ringing blow in the thicket
The pheasant echoes him.
* * *
From the heart of a peony
The bee slowly creeps out...
Oh, with what reluctance!
* * *
How fast the moon flies!
On fixed branches
Drops of rain fell...
* * *
There is a special charm
In these, crumpled by the storm,
Broken chrysanthemums.
* * *
Oh this long way!
The autumn dusk is falling,
And not a soul around.
* * *
Fallen leaves.
The whole world is one color.
Only the wind hums.
* * *
A thin tongue of fire, -
The oil in the lamp has frozen.
Wake up... What sadness! - Per. Vera Markova
__________________________________
A F A N A S I Y F E T
... Here the beetle took off and buzzed angrily,
Here the harrier swam without moving its wing. (Steppe in the evening)
* * *
I will disappear from melancholy and from laziness ...
In every carnation of fragrant lilac,
Singing, a bee crawls in. (Bees)
* * *
The mirror moon floats across the azure desert,
The grasses of the steppe are humiliated by the moisture of the evening...
Long shadows in the distance sank into a hollow.
* * *
He showered the forest on his peaks.
The garden bared its brow.
September died, and dahlias
The breath of the night burned.
* * *
Shaggy pine branches frayed from the storm,
The autumn night burst into icy tears,
No fire on earth...
Nobody! Nothing!...
* * *
What sadness! End of the alley
Disappeared in the dust again in the morning
Silver snakes again
They crawled through the snowdrifts. (Afanasy Fet)
__________________________________
Why translate Basho when there is no shortage of his translations? Why do not only professionals translate? The inexhaustibility of the inner - behind the words - meaning Basho's poetry by itself puts aside the possibility of different, dissimilar views. Pondering - as if "adapting" the lines of a great master to yourself, first of all, you strive to understand yourself - to remember something granted from above, but forgotten.
Translating is an immense pleasure and an equally immense work: the letters are already swimming before your eyes, and you keep rearranging the words! Without a walk, a legal day off passes. Did you have lunch or not? And still do not tear yourself away from the notebook - something akin to light magic! You translate, and you wander with the poet along the roads of medieval Japan or along the roads of your own country?! The main thing: you see everything anew - as on the first day of creation: yourself as on the first day of creation!
I first met Basho in the translation by G. O. Monzeler (2). Although now he is reproached for many things, in my opinion, the translator conveyed the charm - the "smell" of the poetry of the Japanese master. I really like the translations of Vera Markova - she is also vaguely reproached for the "lack of integrity of the composition and smooth intonation of the original." On the other hand, the translator found a balance between European rationality and the “torn” imagery of tanku and haiku, fastened by the traditions of Japanese culture for a European! After all, if the reader is not imbued, what is the translation for? (Those who like to reproach most often do not translate themselves.
“Words should not divert attention to themselves, because truth is beyond words,” Basho assured. Athanasius Fet (by the way, a magnificent and pedantic translator from German, Latin and Greek!) is very similar to this. He used to say that poetry is not things, but only the smell of things, their emotional reflection. What then is the translation: the smell of the smell of poetry? ..
In general, why not approach the problem of translation from a different angle?! The more translations, the richer the reader's choice: comparing shades of meanings aesthetically enriches the reader! Considering myself to be among the unprofessional lovers of translation (touches the soul - does not touch ...), I do not compete and do not argue with anyone here.
I am reprinting the well-known translation by Georgy Oskarovich Monzeler (at the top of the page) as a tribute to my gratitude and respect for this - alas! - a person I have not met in my life; below is your translation. ... Not even a translation in the literal sense, but a rehash of the theme - personal experience involvement in the "instant insight" of the great Japanese poet.
____________________________________________
MATSUO BASHO. V E S N A. - TRANSLATION G. O. MONZELER (1)
Ah, nightingale!
And for the willow you sing
And in front of a bush. (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Nightingale is a singer! And for plums
You sing, and on a willow branch, -
the message of spring is everywhere!
_____________________
I've already cut the drain...
I want a camellia
Put it in your sleeve! (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Waiting for spring! Plum color -
up your sleeve already. And I also want a camellia, -
sorry to pick a flower.
________________________________
Someone will say:
"Children bothered me!" -
Not for those flowers! (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
"How annoying children
Me!" - if someone says, -
Are flowers for him?
______________________
A month of shame
Hidden in the clouds completely -
So beautiful flower! (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
So the flower intoxicates with beauty, -
Don't take your eyes off! A month of shame
gone to the cloud.
_________________________
Summer is coming...
Your mouth should be tied
Wind on flowers! (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
The wind breaks the color - the charm of spring.
Oh wind, wind! You should tie
breath on the lips!
____________________________
A leaf has fallen...
Another leaf has fallen...
This is a breeze. (G.O.M.)
* * *
Dropping flower petals...
Leaf... One more... Ah, the wind -
naughty gentleman!
_______________________________
Well, it's hot!
Even the shells are all
Mouths open, lie ... (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
It's hot - no urine!
In a faint, mouths gaped - mouths
even the shells slammed shut.
________________________
rock azalea
Scarlets from the cuckoos
Coloring tears.* (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
The cuckoo cries and sings,
and her tears scarlet. And cry with tears
azalea flowers and rocks.
*According to Japanese belief, the cuckoo cries red tears
_________________________
Oh camellias!
"Hokku" write me a thought
Came to mind. (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Oh camellias! It's time for you.
The rhyme has blossomed, - "haiku"
I'm writing again!
______________________
The night is very dark...
And, not finding a nest,
The little bird is crying. (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
The night is so dark...
Not finding a nest, the bird cries -
moaning small.
__________________________
How cool is the night!
Clear moon young
Visible from behind the mountains. (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
How cool the night breathes!
A clear month - a handsome young man -
looks out from behind the mountains.
_________________________
Summer night you
Once you hit only in the palm -
And it's already light! (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
So summer night is timid!
Clap your hands - the echo rings.
The moon is turning pale, it's already dawn.
______________________
Constant rain!
How long have I not seen
Face of the month... (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Rain. Rain... So long
the face of the clear moon is no longer visible.
And joy faded. *
*Summer in Japan is a boring rainy season.
_______________________
It didn't rain in May
Probably never here...
This is how the temple shines! (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
How brightly the roof of the temple is gilded!
It didn't rain here at all, or
Buddhist monks are so holy?!
* * *
A leaf fell... Another one
Unbidden. Oh, fading lord -
Oh autumn wind!
________________________
AUTUMN
Autumn has begun...
Here comes the butterfly dew
Drinking from chrysanthemum. (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Beginning of autumn. And a butterfly
forgetting the last dew
from the chrysanthemum drinks so eagerly!
_________________________
O! camellia
Falling shed
Water from a flower... (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Rushed off! Seeing off summer
The camellia is sad, with a tear
dropping dew and petals.
______________________
High water!
And on the way you have to sleep
Stars on the rocks... (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
The sky has fallen to earth,
The water has risen. Today on the rocks
sleep the stars!
_______________________
At night under the moon
Fog at the foot of the mountains
Cloudy fields... (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
The mountains are cloudy. In the milk of the field
at the foot. At night under the moon
fog rolls in...
___________________
How do you speak
In the autumn with the wind you
Cold lips ... (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Hurry to say! autumn
The wind is cold on the lips, -
cold on the heart.
________________
Come back here!
Twilight in autumn
I'm bored too... (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Turn around to me! In gloomy
twilight of old autumn
so sad to me!
_________________
In autumn such
How to live in the clouds
Birds in the cold? (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Autumn, autumn... The cold is multiplying.
How to live in the frozen clouds
birds - how can they?!
_______________________
It seems to me:
Hell is like twilight
Late autumn... (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
It seems - it seems: Hell -
like twilight late autumn…
Worse than ever!
______________________
It's funny how
Will it turn to snow
This winter rain? (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
Ice drizzle: drip, drip, - trembling.
Will you turn into snow
boring winter rain?!
__________________________________
Because they didn't die
Sluggish under the snow
Cane flowers? (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
The flowers of the reeds have withered completely, -
died or about spring in the snow
do they dream?
____________________
Only snow will fall, -
Beams bend in the ceiling
My hut... (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
The snow is falling - the reeds are cracking
on the roof. It's cold in the hut -
fly your thoughts higher!
____________________
Even though it's cold,
But on the way to fall asleep together
Very well! (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
It's so cold! The wind is fierce.
And fall asleep together on the way -
so sweet!
______________________
To see the snow
Until I fall off my feet -
I wander everywhere. (G.O.M.)
* * * * *
1. Snow covered the fields with the first robe.
I'm falling off my feet, but I'm still wandering, wandering
I'm away from the hustle and bustle...
2. I look at the snow. Already frozen, frozen, -
And still I can’t breathe the snow with my breath.
...How to protect the radiance of purity?!
1. Georgy Oskarovich Monzeler (1900 - 1959) - Japanologist and sinologist. In 1930–1931 he was a lecturer at Leningrad State University. In 1934 he was exiled (perhaps he left himself to escape arrest) to the North, where he worked "on an expedition to survey the resources of the Kola Peninsula." Upon his return, he worked at the LVI (until 1938) and other institutions of the Academy of Sciences of the Soviet Socialist Republic. He translated poetry (Li Bo, Basho), more often acted as the author of interlinear translations (for Gitovich, Akhmatova and others).
2. The above translation of Monzeler "From Basho's verse cycles" is published in a collection edited by N. I. Konrad. Japanese literature in samples and essays. Volume 1. S. 463-465. Leningrad. Published by the A. S. Yenukidze Institute of Living Oriental Languages, 1927
Don't imitate me too much!
Look, what's the use of such a resemblance?
Two halves of a melon. For students
I want at least once
Go to the market on holidays
Buy tobacco
"Autumn has already arrived!"
The wind whispered in my ear
Creeping up to my pillow.
One hundred times more noble
Who does not say at the flash of lightning:
"This is our life!"
All the worries, all the sadness
Of my troubled heart
Give it to the flexible willow.
What freshness blows
From this melon in drops of dew,
With sticky wet earth!
In the garden where the irises opened,
Chat with an old friend,
What a reward for a traveler!
Cold mountain spring.
I did not have time to scoop up a handful of water,
How the teeth are already broken
Here's a connoisseur's quirk!
On a flower without fragrance
The moth dropped.
Come on, friends!
Let's go wandering through the first snow,
Until we fall off our feet.
Evening bindweed
I'm captured... Still
I am in oblivion.
Frost hid him
The wind makes his bed...
Abandoned child.
There is such a moon in the sky
Like a tree cut down at the root:
White fresh cut.
The yellow leaf floats.
Which coast, cicada,
Do you suddenly wake up?
How the river overflowed!
The heron wanders on short legs
Knee-deep in water.
Like a banana moaning in the wind,
How drops fall into a tub,
I hear all night long. In a thatched hut
Willow leaned over and sleeps.
And it seems to me, a nightingale on a branch ...
This is her soul.
Top-top is my horse.
I see myself in the picture -
In the expanse of summer meadows.
You hear suddenly "shorch-shorch".
Sadness stirs in my heart...
Bamboo on a frosty night.
Butterflies flying
Wakes up a quiet meadow
In the rays of the sun
How the autumn wind whistles!
Then only understand my poems,
When you spend the night in the field.
And I want to live in autumn
To this butterfly: drinks hastily
Dew from the chrysanthemum.
Flowers withered.
Seeds are falling, falling
Like tears...
gusty sheet
Hid in a bamboo grove
And gradually calmed down.
Take a close look!
Shepherd's purse flowers
You will see under the fence.
Oh, wake up, wake up!
Become my friend
Sleeping moth!
They fly to the ground
Going back to old roots...
Separation of flowers! In memory of a friend
Old pond.
The frog jumped into the water.
A surge in silence.
Autumn Moon Festival.
Around the pond and around again
All night long!
That's all I'm rich in!
Light as my life
Pumpkin gourd. Grain storage jug
First snow in the morning.
He barely covered
Narcissus leaves.
The water is so cold!
Seagull can't sleep
Ride on the wave.
The pitcher burst with a crash:
At night, the water in it froze.
I woke up suddenly.
Moon or morning snow...
Admiring the beautiful, I lived as I wanted.
This is how I end the year.
Clouds of cherry blossoms!
The ringing of the bells floated ... From Ueno
Or Asakusa?
In a flower cup
A bumblebee is napping. Don't touch him
Sparrow friend!
Stork nest in the wind.
And under it - beyond the storm -
Cherries are a calm color.
Long day to fly
Sings - and does not get drunk
Lark in spring.
Over the expanse of fields -
Not tied to the ground
The lark calls.
May rains pour down.
What's this? Has the rim burst on the barrel?
The sound of an obscure night ...
Pure spring!
Up ran down my leg
Little crab.
It's been a clear day.
But where do the drops come from?
A patch of clouds in the sky.
As if taken in hand
Lightning when in the dark
You lit a candle. In praise of the poet Rick
How fast the moon flies!
On fixed branches
Drops of rain hung.
important steps
Heron on fresh stubble.
Autumn in the village.
Dropped for a moment
Threshing rice peasant,
Looks at the moon.
In a glass of wine
Swallows, don't drop
Clay lump.
There used to be a castle here...
Let me be the first to tell about it
A spring flowing in an old well.
How thick the grass is in summer!
And only one-leaf
One single sheet.
Oh no ready
I can't find a comparison for you
Three day month!
hanging motionless
Dark cloud in the sky...
It can be seen that lightning is waiting.
Oh, how many of them are in the fields!
But everyone blooms in their own way -
This is the highest feat of a flower!
Wrapped his life
around the suspension bridge
This wild ivy.
Blanket for one.
And icy black
Winter night... Oh, sadness! Poet Rika mourns his wife
Spring is leaving.
The birds are crying. The eyes of fish
Full of tears.
The distant call of the cuckoo
Sounded right. After all, these days
The poets have moved.
A thin tongue of fire, -
The oil in the lamp has frozen.
Wake up... What sadness! in a foreign land
West East -
Everywhere the same trouble
The wind is still cold. To a friend who went to the West
Even White flower on the fence
Near the house where the mistress was gone,
Cold covered me. Orphaned friend
Broke off a branch
Wind running through the pines?
How cool is the splash of water!
Here in drunkenness
To fall asleep on these river stones,
Overgrown with cloves...
Get up off the ground again
Fading in the mist, chrysanthemums,
Crushed by heavy rain.
Pray for happy days!
On the winter tree plums
Be like your heart.
Visiting cherry blossoms
I have been neither more nor less -
Twenty happy days.
Under the shade of cherry blossoms
I'm like an old drama hero,
At night lay down to sleep.
Garden and mountain in the distance
Trembling, moving, entering
In a summer open house.
Driver! lead the horse
Over there, across the field!
There is a cuckoo singing.
May rains
The waterfall was buried -
Filled with water.
summer herbs
Where the heroes have disappeared
Like a dream. On the old battlefield
Islands... Islands...
And crushed into hundreds of fragments
Summer day sea.
What a blessing!
Cool green rice field...
The murmur of water...
Silence around.
Penetrate into the heart of the rocks
Voices of cicadas.
Gate of the Tide.
Washes the heron up to the chest
Cool sea.
Drying small perches
On the branches of a willow... What a coolness!
Fishing huts on the shore.
Wooden pestle.
Was he ever a willow
Was it a camellia?
Celebration of the meeting of two stars.
Even the night before is so different
For a normal night! On the eve of Tashibam holiday
Raging sea space!
Far away, to the island of Sado,
The Milky Way creeps.
With me under the same roof
Two girls... Hagi branches in bloom
And a lonely month In hotel
What does ripe rice smell like?
I was walking through the field, and suddenly -
To the right is the Gulf of Ariso.
Tremble, oh hill!
Autumn wind in the field -
My lonely moan. In front of the grave mound of the early deceased poet Isse
Red-red sun
In the desert distance ... But it freezes
Ruthless autumn wind.
Pines... Nice name!
Leaning towards the pines in the wind
bushes and autumn grass. A place called Sosenki
Musashi Plain around.
None will touch the cloud
Your travel hat.
Wet, walking in the rain
But this traveler is also worthy of a song,
Not only hagi in bloom.
O merciless rock!
Under this glorious helmet
Now the cricket is ringing.
Whiter than white rocks
On the slopes of the stone mountain
This autumn whirlwind!
Farewell verses
On the fan I wanted to write -
It broke in his hands. Breaking up with a friend
Where are you, moon, now?
Like a sunken bell
Hidden at the bottom of the sea. In Tsuruga Bay, where the bell once sank
Butterfly never
He won't be... Shaking in vain
Worm in the autumn wind.
A house in seclusion.
Moon ... Chrysanthemums ... In addition to them
A piece of a small field.
Cold rain without end.
This is how a chilled monkey looks,
As if asking for a straw cloak.
Winter night in the garden.
With a thin thread - and a month in the sky,
And cicadas barely audible ringing.
Nuns story
About the former service at the court ...
Deep snow all around. In a mountain village
Children, who is faster?
We'll catch up with the balls
Ice cereal. I play with children in the mountains
Tell me what for
Oh raven, to the bustling city
Are you flying from here?
How tender are the young leaves
Even here in the weeds
At the forgotten house.
Camellia petals...
Maybe the nightingale dropped
Flower hat?
Ivy leaves...
For some reason their smoky purple
He talks about the past.
Mossy gravestone.
Under it - is it in reality or in a dream? -
A voice whispers prayers.
Everything is spinning dragonfly ...
Can't get caught
For stalks of flexible grass.
Do not think with contempt:
"What small seeds!"
It's red pepper.
First left the grass...
Then he left the trees...
Lark flight.
The bell is silent in the distance,
But the scent of evening flowers
Its echo floats.
The cobwebs tremble a little.
fine strands of saiko grass
They tremble in the twilight.
dropping petals,
Suddenly spilled a handful of water
Camellia flower.
The stream is slightly visible.
Float through the thicket of bamboo
Camellia petals.
May rain is endless.
Mallows are reaching somewhere
Looking for the path of the sun.
Weak orange flavor.
Where?.. When?.. In what fields, cuckoo,
Did I hear your flying cry?
Falling down with a leaf...
No, look! Halfway
The firefly fluttered.
And who could say
Why do they have such a short life!
The silent sound of cicadas.
Fisherman's hut.
Messed up in a pile of shrimp
Lone cricket.
White hair fell.
Under my headboard
The cricket does not stop.
Ill go down goose
On the field on a cold night.
Sleep lonely on the way.
Even a wild boar
Will swirl, take away with it
This winter whirlwind of the field!
It's the end of autumn
But believe in the future
Green tangerine.
Portable hearth.
So, the heart of wanderings, and for you
There is no rest anywhere. At the road hotel
The cold came along the way.
At the bird's scarecrow, or something,
In debt to ask for sleeves?
Seaweed stalks.
The sand creaked on my teeth...
And I remembered that I was getting old.
Manzai came late
To a mountain village.
The plums are already blooming.
Why all of a sudden such laziness?
They just woke me up today...
Noisy spring rain.
sad me
Drink more sadness
Cuckoos distant call!
I clapped my hands.
And where the echo sounded
The summer moon is blazing.
A friend sent me a gift
Risu, and I invited him
Visit the moon itself. On a full moon night
deep antiquity
A breeze ... Garden near the temple
Covered with dead leaves.
So easy-easy
Came out - and in the cloud
The moon thought.
Quail scream.
It must be evening.
The eye of the hawk faded.
Together with the owner of the house
I listen silently to the evening bells.
Willow leaves are falling.
White fungus in the forest.
Some unfamiliar leaf
Sticking to his hat.
What sadness!
Suspended in a small cage
Captive cricket.
Night silence.
Just behind the picture on the wall
The cricket is ringing.
Glittering dewdrops.
But they have a taste of sadness,
Don't forget!
That's right, this cicada
Is it all out of foam? -
One shell remained.
Fallen leaves.
The whole world is one color.
Only the wind hums.
Rocks among cryptomeria!
How to sharpen their teeth
Winter cold wind!
Planted trees in the garden.
Quiet, quiet, to encourage them,
Whispering autumn rain.
So that a cold whirlwind
To drink the aroma, they opened again
Late autumn flowers.
Everything was covered in snow.
Lonely old woman
In the forest hut.
Ugly raven -
And he's beautiful on the first snow
On a winter morning!
Like soot sweeps away
Cryptomerium tops treplet
A rising storm.
Fish and birds
I don't envy anymore... I'll forget
All the sorrows of the year Under the new year
Nightingales sing everywhere.
There - behind the bamboo grove,
Here - in front of the river willow.
From branch to branch
Quietly running drops ...
Spring rain.
Through the hedge
How many times have they fluttered
Butterfly wings!
Closed her mouth tightly
Sea shell.
Unbearable heat!
Only the breeze dies -
Willow branch to branch
The butterfly will flutter.
The winter hearth is getting along.
How old the familiar stove-maker has aged!
Whitened strands of hair.
Year after year, the same
Monkey amuses the crowd
In a monkey mask.
Didn't take my hands off
Like a spring breeze
Settled in a green sprout. planting rice
Rain follows rain
And the heart is no longer disturbed
Sprouts in the rice fields.
Stayed and left
Bright moon... Remained
Table with four corners. In memory of the poet Tojun
First fungus!
Still, autumn dews,
He didn't count you.
perched a boy
On the saddle, and the horse is waiting.
Collect radish.
The duck crouched down on the ground.
Covered with a dress of wings
Your bare feet...
Sweep the soot.
For myself this time
The carpenter gets along well. Before New Year
O spring rain!
Streams run from the roof
Along wasp nests.
Under an open umbrella
I make my way through the branches.
Willows in the first fluff.
From the sky of their peaks
Only river willows
Still pouring rain.
Hillock next to the road.
To replace the extinguished rainbow -
Azaleas in the sunset light.
Lightning at night in darkness.
Lakes expanse of water
Sparks flared up suddenly.
Waves run across the lake.
Some regret the heat
Sunset clouds.
The ground is slipping from under your feet.
I grab onto a light ear ...
The moment of parting has come. Saying goodbye to friends
My whole life is on the way!
Like I'm digging up a little field
I wander back and forth.
transparent waterfall...
Fell into the light
Pine needle.
Hanging in the sun
Cloud ... Randomly on it -
Migratory birds.
Buckwheat did not ripen
But they treat the field in flowers
A guest in a mountain village.
End of autumn days.
Already raising his hands
Shell chestnut.
What do people eat there?
House stuck to the ground
Under the autumn willows.
Chrysanthemum scent...
In the temples of ancient Nara
Dark buddha statues.
Autumn mist
Broke and drives away
Friends conversation.
Oh this long way!
The autumn dusk is falling,
And not a soul around.
Why am I so strong
Did you smell old age this fall?
Clouds and birds.
Late autumn.
I'm alone thinking
"And how does my neighbor live?"
On the way, I fell ill.
And everything is running, circling my dream
Through the scorched fields. death song
* * *
Poems from travel diaries
Maybe my bones
The wind will whiten - It is in the heart
I breathed cold. Going on the road
You are sad, listening to the cry of the monkeys!
Do you know how a child cries
Abandoned in the autumn wind?
Moonless night. Darkness.
With millennial cryptomeria
Grabbed into an embrace whirlwind.
The ivy leaf is quivering.
In a small bamboo grove
The first storm rumbles.
You stand indestructible, pine tree!
And how many monks have lived here,
How many bindweeds have faded... In the garden of the old monastery
Drops dewdrops - current-current -
Source, as in previous years ...
Wash away the worldly dirt! The source sung by the Saigyo
Twilight over the sea.
Only the cries of wild ducks in the distance
Blurred white.
Spring morning.
Over every nameless hill
Transparent haze.
I am walking along the mountain path.
Suddenly it became easy for me.
Violets in dense grass.
From the heart of a peony
The bee crawls slowly...
Oh, with what reluctance! Leaving a hospitable home
young horse
Chewing merrily ears of corn.
Rest on the way.
To the capital - there, far away -
Only half of the sky remains...
Snow clouds. On the mountain pass
Winter day sun
My shadow is freezing
On the horse's back.
She is only nine days old.
But they know both fields and mountains:
Spring has come again.
Cobwebs in the sky.
I see the image of the Buddha again
At the foot of the empty. Where the statue of Buddha once stood
Let's hit the road! I'll show you
Like cherry blossoms in distant Yoshino,
My old hat.
As soon as I got well,
Exhausted, until the night ...
And suddenly - wisteria flowers!
Soaring larks above
I sat down in the sky to rest -
On the crest of the pass.
Cherries at the waterfall...
For those who love good wine,
I'll take down the branch as a gift. Waterfall "Dragon Gate"
Like spring rain
Runs under a canopy of branches...
The spring softly whispers. Stream near the hut where Saigyo lived
Gone spring
In the distant harbor of Waka
I finally caught up.
On Buddha's birthday
He was born into the world
Little deer.
I saw before
In the rays of dawn the face of a fisherman,
And then - a blooming poppy.
Where it flies
The cry of the dawn cuckoo,
What's there? - A remote island.
Haiku is a waka style of classical Japanese lyric poetry that has been in use since the 16th century.
Features and examples of haiku
In a separate genre, this type of poetry, then called haiku, took shape in the 16th century; This style was given its current name in the 19th century by the poet Masaoka Shiki. Matsuo Basho is recognized as the world's most famous haiku poet.
How enviable is their fate!
North of the busy world
Cherry blossoms in the mountains!
Autumn mist
Broke and drives away
Friends conversation
The structure and stylistic features of the haiku (haiku) genre
A real Japanese haiku consists of 17 syllables that form one column of characters. With special delimiting words kireji (jap. "cutting word") - the haiku verse is broken in a ratio of 12:5 on the 5th syllable, or on the 12th.
Haiku in Japanese (Basho):
かれ朶に烏の とまりけり 秋の暮
Karaeeda nikarasu no tomarikeri aki no kure
On a bare branch
Raven sits alone.
Autumn evening.
When translating haiku poems into languages Western countries kireji are replaced by a line break, so haiku take the form of a three-line. Among haiku, it is very rare to find verses consisting of two lines, composed in a ratio of 2: 1. Today's haiku, which are written in Western languages, usually have less than 17 syllables, while haiku written in Russian can be longer.
In the original haiku, the image associated with nature is of particular importance, which is compared with human life. In the verse, the season is indicated by using the necessary seasonal word kigo. Haiku is composed only in the present tense: the author writes about his personal feelings from the event that just happened. Classical haiku does not have a name and does not use artistic expressive means common in Western poetry (for example, rhyme), but uses some special techniques created by the national poetry of Japan. The art of creating haiku poetry lies in the art of describing your feeling or moment of life in three lines. In the Japanese tercet every word and every image counts, they have great meaning and value. The basic rule of haiku is to express all your feelings using a minimum of words.
In haiku collections, each verse is often placed on an individual page. This is done so that the reader can concentrate, without haste, feel the atmosphere of the haiku.
haiku photography in japanese
Hokku video
Video with examples of Japanese poetry about sakura.
Japan fascinates us Europeans with its traditions, rituals and habits. We are drawn to their poetry, to their rituals, and do not even suspect that it is not at all necessary to study Japanese magic in order to use local traditions and art for divination.
By the way, only men were traditionally allowed to use magic in Japan - they often turned to the spirits and the power of the dead. But with you today, at least we will learn a little Japanese magic, but in divination we will not use the help of the dead, but poems and flower petals. Gracefully, beautifully and quite in Japanese ...
Japanese magic: haiku divination
For this divination, you will need to prepare 30 tablets and write on them the classic Japanese haiku, but without transcripts and names of poets. Then just mix the tablets and ask your question or make a wish. Pull out one card and see the interpretation. But remember, the decoding I have given is only one of many reflections. In Japanese magic, it is customary to correlate the drawn haiku with your question and with the real situation. So let's go!
We are going to distant Fuji.
Suddenly she disappeared into a grove of camellias.
Clearance ... We leave to the village.
Matsuo Basho
Haiku deciphering: soon you will need a break in the planned business. The goal itself will become unimportant, you will want to think.
Rocks among cryptomeria!
How to sharpen their teeth
Winter cold wind.
Matsuo Basho
Deciphering haiku: trials will harden you, and there will be many around who will soften the blow.
Leaving autumn
red maple leaves
It crumbles along the way.
Otsuyu
Haiku decoding: A gift awaits you. If you asked about the person with whom the relationship went wrong, then the gift may turn out to be a farewell gift.
Late fall.
Fallen leaf dress
Scarecrow put on ...
Otsuyu
Haiku decoding: all bad things will turn into good ones. Forget resentment and look at the situation from a different angle.
Dry field -
Only occasionally somewhere suddenly
The frog croaks...
Otsuyu
Haiku Transcription: Good news awaits you. Nothing ended, it just stopped. Wait.
Flower lover!
You became inconspicuous
A slave of chrysanthemums.
Yosa Buson
Haiku transcript: You are too dependent on what you ask. And therein lies the problem.
Butterfly in the garden.
A child crawls - takes off,
Crawls - takes off.
Kobayashi Issa
Haiku decoding: do not rush the fulfillment of your desire. You have a chance, but it's easy to scare him away.
mountain village -
From under the snowdrifts comes
The murmur of water.
Masaoka Shiki
Haiku decoding: your wish will come true in a couple of months. If you didn’t guess at desire, but asked a question, then you will have to work hard to resolve your case, but you will achieve positive results.
Summer river.
There is a bridge, but the horses
They go by water.
Masaoka Shiki
Deciphering haiku: change tactics - then you will succeed.
Doesn't stop
The murmur of a stream.
Blackthorn berries...
Taneda Santoka
Haiku decoding: you will experience disappointment along the chosen path. But life goes on…
The moon shines in the back -
And the glare in the water play
On the crossing...
Taneda Santoka
Haiku deciphering: you will soon leave your goal behind. A new goal awaits you, which will turn out to be ghostly. Don't quit what you started for the sake of illusion.
Where are the fireflies?
From human pursuit
Hidden on the moon.
Oshima Ryota
Haiku deciphering: You are too persistent. Let go of the situation, do not put pressure on those on whom the fulfillment of the plan depends.
Reaching north
A string of geese intermingled
With a string of pilgrims.
Hattori Ransetsu
Deciphering haiku: you have a journey in which you will find a new meaning in life. Perhaps you have to repent of something.
In his hand is a plum branch.
I congratulate people
Happy New Year.
Masaoka Shiki
Deciphering haiku: to get something, you have to give something. Be sincere and do not regret the losses.
Heavy bell.
And on its very edge
A butterfly is drowsing.
Yosa Buson
Deciphering haiku: behind your dreams, you do not see the solidity and reliability of what you have, or the person who is next to you.
Friend spent -
And I wander alone home
Through the swamp...
Taneda Santoka
Deciphering haiku: do not rush to part with what you have. You will not find a new one yet, so you will feel lonely.
The clouds lay
Between friends. geese
Goodbye in the sky.
Matsuo Basho
Deciphering haiku: beware of a quarrel with a friend (girlfriend). This quarrel can lead you to different sides forever and ever.
Fun all around.
Cherries from the mountainside...
You weren't invited?
Matsuo Basho
Deciphering haiku: be more tolerant, otherwise you risk falling out of the communication environment because of your own pride.
Oh! How disbanded
In the spring wind
Your peacock tail!
Masaoka Shiki
Deciphering haiku: what you take for real is empty and superficial. Do not trust a person who exalts his abilities and his own importance too much.
Spring day -
Long, long stretch along the shore
Footprints in the sand...
Masaoka Shiki
Deciphering haiku: remember your past experience. This will help you come to victory and get what you want.
Spring day.
Clouds lie on your knees
Big Buddha.
Masaoka Shiki
Deciphering haiku: nothing depends on you now. There is a person next to you who influences your destiny.
Spring rain.
Umbrellas all around
The boat is covered.
Masaoka Shiki
Deciphering haiku: you are protected. You have a friend and protector. Trust him.
Mountains in spring
Looking from behind the other
From all sides.
Masaoka Shiki
Haiku transcript: Your friends are ready to help you. Be honest with them, they will solve your problem.
Melted and stack
Snow from the roof that covers
Dilapidated housing...
Taneda Santoka
Haiku decoding: you will soon realize your mistake and be able to correct it. Don't be lazy, even if you have to rebuild relationships.
iris flower
Almost withered -
Spring twilight.
Masaoka Shiki
Haiku Transcription: Your case is nearing its logical conclusion. Do not worry. Dawn is coming soon.
A flower... And another flower...
This is how the plum blossoms
That's how the heat comes.
Hattori Ransetsu
Deciphering haiku: soon new opportunities will open before you. Be patient. Prosperity awaits you.
Crane chick!
And you from hundreds of centuries
Day behind.
Kobayashi Issa
Haiku decoding: everything goes on as usual, do not try to change the situation, and then everything will turn out the way you want.
Ipomoea flowers.
Today they are not
What were yesterday.
Masaoka Shiki
Haiku deciphering: change awaits you. Perhaps the person you asked about will change towards you, become more serious. If your question was about business, then soon your efforts will bear good fruit.
six tens
Lived years, but not a single night
Didn't dance.
Kobayashi Issa
Haiku Transcript: It's time for you to rest. Don't take your project too seriously. A little lightness doesn't hurt.
Summer vacation.
Walking, you meet everywhere
Familiar faces.
Masaoka Shiki
Deciphering haiku: you are waiting for meetings with old friends, do not refuse communication, it will help you achieve what you want.
Japanese magic: ritual divination by sakura petals
For this fortune-telling ritual from Japanese magic, you will need a sakura tree, an ordinary cherry tree, or any flowering plant with medium-sized flowers and petals. Ideally, you should go to Japan during cherry blossom and “read” the pattern of crumbling petals, but we will try to do without this long and very expensive trip.
Now the cherry is just in bloom, then the apple trees and lilacs will blossom, so you will have enough time to tell fortunes. To begin with, you have to find “your” tree, that is, the one next to which you will feel the desire to stop, the one to which you will be drawn. Once the tree has been selected, state clearly what you are interested in, and carefully look at how the fallen petals are arranged:
If the petals lie in one heap - you will succeed, your life will soon become prosperous and happy.
If the petals are scattered like a fan - you need to focus on the main thing and not be scattered over trifles. Only persistent movement towards the goal will give a result.
If they evenly surround the tree, everything is fine with you, even if for some reason you think differently. Do not be depressed - your problems are just the result of self-doubt, fear to admit to yourself (for fear of jinxing) that you already have what you are asking about.
If clearly divided into two zones, events will soon await you that will radically change your life. And as a result, you will either get what you ask for, or it will turn out to be unnecessary for you, since you will have new desires, attachments and addictions.
If the petals were blown away from the tree by the wind, your wish will not come true. You missed your chance, and there's nothing to catch up.
If you are satisfied with the answer received, then raise a few petals and save them for good luck - dry or alcoholic.
And finally, not so much a guide to action as information for reflection:
Japanese magic: divination on the shoulder blade
This divination from Japanese magic is for thrill-seekers with a rich imagination. It was practiced by oracles close to the imperial family twice a year and was used to predict the fate of the emperor himself and his relatives. A deer shoulder blade was held over a sacrificial fire made of bark, and predictions were derived from the sounds made by the heating bone (by their number, volume and direction).
You can try to repeat this rite, using not a deer, but a mutton shoulder and asking questions related to the numerical meaning. For example, after how many days (months, years) such and such an event will occur or how many children you will have. The number of clicks will be the answer to your question. If you turn on the imagination, you can determine the details.
