Showing posts with label Tanka. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tanka. Show all posts

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Eastern Structures -- A Review

Eastern Structures – A Review

For the past maybe three to five years I have noticed that poets who are interested in a syllabic approach to eastern forms, such as haiku, tanka, ghazal, etc., have expressed a need to find locations, spaces, venues, where a formal approach to these forms in English is emphasized instead of undermined.  Almost all poetry journals and poetry societies dedicated to Eastern Forms are controlled by poets who use a free verse approach to lineation.  To pick a good example, English language haiku associations and journals are, without exception, devoted to a free verse approach to haiku in English even though haiku in Japanese is formal verse.

I think the first explicit expression of dissatisfaction with this situation was in the ‘Introduction’ to Ravishing DisUnities by Ali where he criticizes the tendency of contemporary English poets to write free verse versions of the ghazal.  Ali’s criticism is sharp, but it is also one that is knowledgeable of the traditional ghazal form and that this form has potential in English.  Ali was fluent in English and was comfortable writing in it and for that reason he was speaking from personal experience with the form in the English language, even though English was not his native tongue.  Ali was not saying that the ghazal has no place in English language poetry; rather he was suggesting that if English language poets are going to compose ghazal they should map onto English the formal features of that traditional form.

In ELH (English Language Haiku) the dominance of a free verse approach in official haiku organizations and publications is almost total.  The result is that those who take a syllabic approach to ELH find themselves gradually alienated from those official organizations.  Most of them simply move online and find others of like mind there.

The felt need for those taking a formal approach to these types of poetry to find their own spaces and journals has been gathering energy for some time. But exactly how to go about this has not been clear.  With the publication of Eastern Structures this inchoate feeling has finally born fruit in something concrete.  Published by R. W. Watkins, Eastern Structures is dedicated to a formal approach to such Eastern forms as Haiku, Tanka, Ghazal, and Sijo.  The first issue packs a lot of material into its 32 pages of 8-1/2” X 11”.  The ghazal are finely crafted and formally focused.  The haiku are seasonal, syllabic, and rooted in the traditional syllabics of the Japanese.  The article and examples of tanka are similarly focused.  I would say that the only weak section in this first issue is the section on sijo, the Korean form.  Watkins notes that he had difficulty contacting people who have written in this form, so if you are interested, or know others who are interested, forward information about this new poetry publication to them because they now have a place to publish their efforts in the sijo form.

Watkins has done a fine job with the layout and other publication matters.  Watkins has published poetry zines before (particularly for the ghazal) and this experience has served him well for this first issue of Eastern Structures. For example, the cover is of a famous skyscraper in Malaysia, the world’s tallest building; a reference to the name of the magazine, Eastern Structures.  And the back cover is a picture of a farm woman holding a lynx; a clever reference to Lynx, which was published by Jane and Werner Reichhold for 30 years, a poetry journal that emphasized the same forms that Watkins is interested in.  I like the way Watkins gives the Reichholds a bow in this picture.

The poetry is a pleasure to read.  I have some of my own work included in the section on tanka and I hope others feel the same way about my contribution.  The essays are thoughtful, sometimes funny, and in general optimistic about the potential for a syllabic approach to these forms. 

If you are interested in a formal approach to Eastern forms in English, this is a great resource.  If you are a poet who is writing in these forms, Eastern Structures is a great venue for you to publish in.  If you have essays, reviews, or thoughts to share with this focus, this is the place to share them with an appreciative audience.  You can send submissions to:


Watkins has decided to use print-on-demand to publish Eastern Structures.  It is available from Amazon for $5.99 – a great deal.  Buy a copy for yourself, buy copies for friends, and post reviews at Amazon. 

In closing I want to express my appreciation to Watkins for taking the time and effort to bring forth this publication.  As someone who has published poetry magazines in the past, I know how much time and energy goes into such an endeavor.  All of us who are interested in a formal approach to haiku, tanka, sijo, and ghazal can applaud this effort.

Eastern Structures
Editor: R. W. Watkins
Available at Amazon
$5.99
ISBN: 9781530638406


Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Kokinshu Day for 2016

The Kokinshu is the first Imperial collection of waka poetry from Japan.  It was edited about 905 and contains 1111 poems, almost all of them in the waka form; what today we refer to as tanka.  This form has a long history in Japan.  The form is remarkably stable consisting of five lines, or 'ku', in the following pattern: 5-7-5-7-7 syllables.  The stability of the form has lasted for about 1400 years and continues to be a central mode of poetic expression in Japan.

I have set aside a day to pay homage to the Kokinshu, also known as the Waka Kokinshu, primarily because there are two translations into English that replicate the syllabic structure of the original.  The two translations are:

Kokin Wakashu, transalted by Helen McCullough, and
Kokinshu, translated by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius.

Both of them are excellent.  And both of them, remarkably, retain the 5-7-5-7-7 syllabic structure in their translations into English.  What this means for those of us interested in English syllabic verse is that we have two anthologies of syllabic verse, written by competent scholars, excellent translators, who were sensitive to the significance that all of these poems share a common form.  In an era when many free verse poets are form deaf, this is a significant accomplishment.

My feeling is that both of these translations can serve as manuals for how to construct effective syllabic verse, and tanka in particular, in English.  And that is the primary reason I have set aside a day to celebrate this anthology.  

I slightly prefer the McCullough translation.  But price is an obstacle.  At almost $100 the McCullough version is beyond the reach of many.  In contrast, the Rodd translation is priced reasonably; so if price matters (and it almost always does), go with the Rodd translation.

Just to give an idea of the difference between the two, here is tanka 210 from both translations:

Now they call again
above the mists of autumn --
those flocks of wild geese
who took their leave of us
merging into springtime haze.

(McCullough, page 54)

the voices of the
wild geese that were swallowed up
by the mists of spring
have returned   to penetrate
the autumn haze and sound again

(Rodd, page 108)

My feeling is that McCullough has a surer grasp of lineation.  Notice how in the Rodd translation line 1 to line 2 is a runon; ending line 1 with 'the' undermines the basic syllabic shape.  Rodd tends to use this kind of enjambment and it is the main reason why I consider her translation not quite as efficacious as the McCullough translation.  I don't want to exaggerate; the Rodd translation is really fine and well worth reading.  On the other hand, the syllabic shape is more clearly delineated in the McCullough translation.  It's too bad about the price of the McCullough version.  My hope is that Stanford University Press will issue this translation in paperback and make it more accessible to a wider audience.

So take a moment today to look at the Kokinshu in English and, if you feel inspired, you might want to compose a syllabic tanka of your own.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Syllabic Tanka Day for 2016

Greetings:

Today is January 22nd.  I bet you didn't know that this is Syllabic Tanka Day!  Hooray.  It seems fitting that now that I'm plunging into Genji Monogatari, which has hundreds of tanka/waka scattered through the book, that I take a moment to celebrate this form which has been so rewarding for so many poets and readers down through the centuries.  In the anglosphere tanka has not yet taken root; instead what you have are people writing free verse poems (usually five lines) and then labeling them tanka for no clear reason.  That's OK; it's what is happening.  But for those of us who want to really engage with traditional Japanese tanka the syllabic count is essential.  Thankfully a small number of poets are slowly learning the syllabic shape and using it skillfully in English.

Here is a tank from my collection 'Tanka River', a landscape:

The hours before dawn,
Before the sun has risen,
Before the stars fade,
Before the world rushes in,
The hours of the morning calm


And here is one from a sequence on love:

By the ocean's edge
I wait patiently for more
Memories of you,
Riding the incoming waves
Or the last rays of the sun


And here is a tanka from one of the first tanka collections in English, 'Wind Five Folded', edited by Jane Reichhold:

Walking east, I watch
The moon rise, huge, smokey orange,
Almost full, alone.
Walking home, I'm almost used
To you being gone again.

John Gribble, page 65


And another one from 'Wind Five Folded':

Ginkgos are boring
Until autumn golding and
Persimmons taste tart --
The vague words of your language
Often mean less than they seem

Mimi Walter Hinman, page 77


Slowly a cache of syllabic tanka is being written.  My feeling is that the less a poet has taken on the narrow esthetics of official haiku, the more accessible tanka becomes to a poet.  I see tanka as more closely related to the Psalms and to hymnody than to free verse haiku.  There is the same quiet contemplation, the same sense of steady rhythm meant for chanting or singing. 

But to find these tanka you have to look beyond official tanka organizations and magazines because most of them (all?) were started by people committed to free verse and completely allergic to syllabics.  They seem also to have absorbed the nihinjinron based mythos of the specialness of the Japanese language.  But, again, that's OK.  They get to do that.  And we get to connect with the Japanese tradition by counting on our fingers: 5-7-5-7-7.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

On Genji -- Part 1

On Genji – Part 1

I’m rereading The Tale of Genji (Genji Monogatari).  I’m enjoying it immensely.  I first read Genji decades ago; I think it was at least 35 years.  And, if memory serves, I did not read the entire work at that time, finding myself overwhelmed by the immense cast of characters and the huge size of the novel (over 1,000 pages).  I admired the work at first reading, and there were passages of great beauty that spoke to me; but as an overall whole Genji eluded me.

This time I am responding differently.  I love it.  I think this is partly due to simply being older.  The understanding of impermanence permeates Genji at multiple levels.  The world of nature is one way that this expressed, but there is also the impermanence of human relationships both at a personal and political level.  I think it is easier for an older person to resonate with this; in any case it speaks more to me now than when I read Genji before.

The fickleness of human desire is another major theme in Genji and, again, I think this is something that is learned, if it is learned, over time.  All relationships end in parting, either by death or divorce; and though that is a universal truth, it is a truth that takes some experience to really comprehend.

I am also more familiar today than I was when I first approached Genji with the specifically Buddhist references found in the novel in every chapter.  References to past lives and karma, to the Lotus Sutra, and to the Pure Land add dimensions of depth and meaning to Genji that, I suspect, most westerners would miss.  Murasaki assumes that her audience knows these references, but a modern westerner, unless, like myself, he took a lot of time studying the Japanese Buddhist tradition, is unlikely to pick up on most of them.  And the Buddhism of Murasaki’s time differs in significant ways from Japanese Buddhism today.  Modern Japanese Buddhism is the result of the turmoil of the 13th century and ended up with strongly sectarian traditions that view each other with suspicion so that in Japan today you find institutionally separated traditions like Zen, Pure Land, and Nichiren.  In the time of Murasaki (the 11th century), however, the Buddhist tradition had not yet fragmented into these mutually antagonistic sects.  There were divisions, naturally enough, but they were divisions found within an organization rather than divisions between organizations.  For this reason the understanding of Buddhism in Japan at that time was more singular and more pervasive than it is now; either in Japan or in the West.

I am also struck, at times amazed, by Murasaki Shikibu’s ability to comprehend and write about human psychology.  The world of Genji is in many ways strange to us.  It is an insular world, an elite world, a world of mannered gestures and coded complex customs that are no longer part of the world (either the western world or Japan’s).  Yet beneath these striking differences Murasaki uncovers motives and purposes that drive her characters and that we can fully recognize as operative in the world today.  That is how Genji can manage to speak to a modern audience.

In some ways I feel while I am reading Genji like when I am reading some sci-fi novel set in another world.  I am thinking, for example, of the Darkover novels by Marion Zimmer Bradley.  Bradley constructs a world on a distant planet named ‘Darkover’, with groups and factions that differ from what we have on earth today.  Yet Bradley’s novels nevertheless speak to us.  Murasaki is a better author; but my point is that reading Genji  today has a similar, off-worldly, feeling to it; like you are dropping onto a planet (a Star Trek first contact) that is filled with strange customs and has a completely different history.  Yet, in spite of that, they are still humanoids and not only is communication possible, but it is surprisingly enriching.

And I am a more experienced poet now than when I first tried to read Genji.  Murasaki was not only a great novelist and storyteller; she was also a great tanka poet.  The world of tanka poetry is a major theme in Genji.  Numerous tanka from the imperial waka/tanka collections, such as the Kokinwakashu, are quoted.  In addition Murasaki herself composed almost 800 tanka that are scattered like jewels throughout the novel.  This integration of story with poetry has left a lasting impression on Japanese literature.

The English language world is blessed with four excellent translations of Genji.  The earliest one is by Waley and is still admired by many.  I am currently reading the Seidensticker translation which I find lucid with just enough footnotes to assist the reader with customs and references.  There is also a translation by Royall Tyler; it is more recent.  And late last year Dennis Washburn published a brand new translation through Norton.  In addition, there is a translation of all the tanka poetry found in Genji by Edwin A. Cranston found in A Waka Anthology, Volume Two: Grasses of Remembrance.  I don’t know enough Japanese (in fact, I’ve forgotten almost all of it that I used to know) to judge the quality of each translation.  (And Genji  is written in Japanese that is 1,000 years old.  My understanding is that modern Japanese read Genji in translations into contemporary Japanese because the Japanese of Genji is too remote.)  Each translation has its advocates.  If you are inclined to read Genji my recommendation is to go online and read from the translations and find out which one resonates most with you and go for it.

This is the first post about Genji I plan on writing.  In subsequent posts I want to address what Genji offers us in terms of insights into human nature, and the place of Murasaki’s poetry in Genji, which, I believe, hasn’t been fully recognized by her English language translators.  I think this can tell us something about our own poetic culture at this time.

More to come.






Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Books Launch

Books Launch

I have just published two small collections of my poetry.  The first is Shorter Tanka Journeys.  The book contains fourteen short Tanka Sequences.  The tanka were each written as individual poems and can stand alone.  I then gathered them by topic to form sequences.  The topics include love, social commentary, nature, and old age.

Shorter Tanka Journeys
ISBN: 9781508620716
117 pages
$8.00

The second book is Shorter Cinquain Journeys.  It is a small collection of twelve Cinquain Sequences.  Like the tanka in Shorter Tanka Journeys, each cinquain was written as a stand-alone poem and subsequently gathered together on the basis of their shared topic.  The topics are similar to those found in STJ.  This book is also written to express my gratitude for this form of poetry which is now 100 years old.  The cinquain is the first syllabic form that has emerged in an English language context and the form has attracted a lot of poets who have used the form for the full range of poetic expression. 

Shorter Cinquain Journeys
ISBN: 9781508800071
114 pages
$8.00

These two books join my previous collection, Shorter Haiku Journeys.  In each case the ‘shorter journeys’ refers to previous books where I published sequences of these forms that were much longer than those found in the Shorter series of books.  In White Roses the haiku sequences are about 100.  In Tanka River the sequences, again, are about 100 tanka.  And in Lanterne Light there is a 100+ cinquain sequence.  Because the sequences in the Shorter Journeys books are briefer I call them ‘shorter journeys’.

All of these books are available at Amazon or through your local bookstore.



Thursday, January 22, 2015

Syllabic Tanka Day for 2015: The Translations of Edwin A. Cranston

Syllabic Tanka Day for 2015

Tanka is one of the oldest continuously practiced syllabic forms in the world.  It has a written history of about 1400 years; but I suspect its origins go back into the mists of time.  In Japan it is the central poetic form out of which both renga and haiku have emerged.

Over all the centuries that tanka have been written the syllabic shape has remained the same: five lines with a syllable count of 5-7-5-7-7.  This generates a beautiful rhythm which always reminds me of paddling down a stream in a canoe. 

The transmission of tanka to the west has been rough; it has not generated nearly as much interest as haiku.  And interest in specifically syllabic tanka is even smaller.  There are a number of reasons for this; a general tilt among modern poets towards free verse, the lack of a strong poetic voice in ELT who takes a syllabic approach to act as an example for others, and the lack of any organizational support for a syllabic approach to ELT.  There are probably others as well.  Still, there are a small number of poets who have taken a syllabic, traditional, approach to ELT.  And there a number of resources that can assist those interested in a syllabic approach to ELT; primarily these are the superb translations of Japanese tanka into English which adhere to the syllabic shape of the original Japanese.

The translations of Edwin A. Cranston are unsurpassed in this regard.  Cranston has published two volumes containing tanka translations.  The first is A Waka Anthology Volume One: The Gem-Glistening Cup.  This volume contains translations of poems from the earliest sources through the Manyoshu and a little bit beyond.  By far the largest section is devoted to the Manyoshu.  This is a very rich anthology.  I took a full year to read it.  The translations are preceded by the translator’s discussion of the sources.  And individual poets are preceded by remarks about their overall output.  And individual poems are preceded by notes that illuminate references and allusions.  It might seem that all this material from the translator would be burdensome.  Remarkably, it is not.  The notes are informative and are not overburdened with technical terms.  They have a tone that resembles having a learned Uncle by your side, assisting you as you go through the material. 

Volume Two is called A Waka Anthology: Volume Two: Grasses of Remembrance.  This volume is divided into two sections, which are published as separate books; Part A and Part B.  Part A contains translations from the court commissioned anthologies of waka (aka tanka) which have exerted such a huge influence on Japanese poetry.  The translations contain selections from a number of these including Kokinshu, Gosenshu, and Goshuishu.

Part B contains translations of all the waka found in The Tale of GenjiGenji contains 795 waka.  The commentary places the waka into the context of the story.  This is a treasure chest of waka verse.

Cranston takes a basically syllabic approach to his translations.  Cranston allows himself more freedom regarding lineation than Helen McCullough did in her translation of the complete Kokinwakashu (I believe Cranston studied with McCullough).  But the syllabic count of the original has a central place in Cranston’s approach.  Here is an example from Part B:

Dweller by the bay,
To those sleeves that draw the brine
Try comparing this:
A night garment sealed away
From the reach of the road of waves.

(Page 761)

The count is 5-7-5-7-8; a close rendering of the original syllabic shape.  One observation; I have noticed that often when Cranston translates his line count will be a few counts longer than the traditional rather than shorter.  This is important information because it runs counter to the minimalist views held by those who have adopted the nihonjinron view of the Japanese language.  In general, I have observed that translators of Japanese poetry, particularly traditional waka/tanka, into English do not fall into minimalism.

For those who are attracted to the traditional syllabic approach to tanka, I recommended these volumes.  They will help you, guide you, and offer you exemplars.  Structurally they offer many examples of tanka in various configurations; such as the single sentence, the two part type, several sentences, and juxtaposition.  They also show the lushness of the tanka tradition and its commitment to the full range of human emotions.

The one drawback is the price: these are expensive volumes.  If they are beyond your budget, and for many they will be, particularly the second volume, you might want to see if you can borrow them from a library using interlibrary loan.  They are published by Stanford University Press which has an execrable track record for making material like this available to a larger audience.  It appears, like many University Presses, that they are not really interested in granting access to this material by those who might reside outside the University.  That’s too bad.  It is my hope that at some point in the future Stanford will make these specific volumes, and other related volumes, available at a more reasonable price.

Still, I have seen used copies every now and then at Amazon offered at a reasonable price; so if you have an interest you might want to tag them and grab a reasonably priced copy when it appears.  Act fast; I have seen them come and go very quickly.

Overall, I am optimistic about syllabic tanka, meaning traditional tanka, eventually taking root as ELT.  It is a slow process, but it strikes me that the translations have given ELT a rich trove of syllabic tanka upon which ELT can be nourished.

A Waka Anthology: Volume 1
The Gem-Glistening Cup
Translated with a Commentary and Notes by
Edwin A. Cranston

ISBN: 9780804731577
Paperback
$49.95


A Waka Anthology: Volume 2
Grasses of Remembrance
(Part A and Part B sold together)
Translated with a Commentary and Notes by
Edwin A. Cranston

ISBN: 9780804748254
Hardback
$180.00



Monday, November 3, 2014

The Tenth Anniversary of the Death of Father Neal Henry Lawrence


Good Morning:

Today is the tenth anniversary of the death of Father Neal Henry Lawrence.  He passed away on November 3, 2004.

I have a great admiration for Father Lawrence and his books of tanka.  As far as I have been able to determine, Father Lawrence was the first English speaker to compose tanka syllabically.  I think of Father Lawrence as breaking new ground for syllabic verse in English.  And in a way, I think of Father Lawrence as the Patron Saint of those composing syllabic tanka in English.

I believe Father Lawrence published four books.  The first is The Soul’s Inner Sparkle, published in 1978 in Japan by Eichosa Publishing.  This first book was reissued in a bilingual edition, Japanese and English, but I am not sure of the date as I cannot find a publisher’s page for this reissue.  The used copy I was able to purchase has the signature of Father Lawrence; the writing says ‘To Brother Benedict’, and is dated April 8, 1999.  The volume looks to me like it was done for some kind of festival or anniversary, or perhaps as a volume to be made available at Father Lawrence’s Abby in Japan; I’m not sure.  But this reissue contains an additional essay by Father Lawrence, ‘Why I Write English Tanka!’ which gives us insight into the poetic world of Father Lawrence and his motivations for adhering to a syllabic count of 5-7-5-7-7.

The second book of Father Lawrence is Rushing Amid Tears, published in 1983, again by Eichosa.

The third is Shining Moments, published by Jane Reichhold’s Aha Books in 1993.

The fourth is Blossoms in Time, published by Suemori in Japan, in 2000.  Blossoms is an anthology of the tanka of Father Lawrence, containing selections from his three previous books, plus new tanka that he wrote between 1991 and 1998.  The book has an introduction, About the Poet, by Edward G. Seidensticker, the great translator and scholar of Japanese literature.  The book is bilingual; all the tanka, as well as the prefatory material, are translated into Japanese.  I believe that Father Lawrence was the first English language tanka poet to have his tanka translated into Japanese; both in the reissue of Soul’s Inner Sparkle and for Blossoms of Time.

There is a muted, or rather, quiet quality to the tanka of Father Lawrence.  It is rare to find a tanka in his output that uses juxtaposition; most of his tanka follow the single sentence format.  And his observations tend to be unspectacular.  For this reason, it takes awhile to perceive the lucidity and care that Father Lawrence used in shaping his tanka.  We tend to be immediately attracted to the brilliant flash of a surprising metaphor or juxtaposition.  So if you are looking for this kind of flash, you will only rarely find it in the output of Father Lawrence.

I believe that behind the tanka Father Lawrence wrote are, primarily, the steady rhythm of the Psalter, the Book of Psalms, which as a Benedictine, Father Lawrence would have recited daily.  I sense in his phrasing some of the same usages that appear in the Psalms.  Juxtaposition is not a primary tool for the Psalms, but things like parallelism are.  It is this kind of shaping that one finds in his tanka.  Father Lawrence speaks to this point in his essay, ‘Why I Write English Tanka!’, published in the re-issue of Soul’s Inner Sparkle, “I think another reason why I write tanka in English is that members of the Order of St. Benedict, which is over 1,500 years old and worldwide, are often poets and all living in a poetic atmosphere.  Every day, four times a day at prayers, we chant the psalms of the Bible and also hear them at every Mass.”  In other words, the tanka of Father Lawrence are embedded in that most influential collection of western poetry, the Book of Psalms and their esthetic is shaped primarily by that collection.

Over the years my appreciation for the tanka of Father Lawrence has increased.  They have a way of quietly growing in one’s heart and mind.   Seidensticker wrote of these tanka, “His language is graceful and imaginative . . .”  I have found this to be true.  Most of his books are available as used books online.  If you have a chance, and particularly if you are interested in syllabic tanka in English, spend some time with these contemplative gems.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

A Guide for English Language Tanka Poets

I have a great fondness for the Kokin Wakashu, particularly the translation by Helen McCullough.  My feeling is that it has not received the attention it deserves from those interested in composing Tanka in English.  The skill with which McCullough translates the Japanese tanka into English is amazing.  And the fact that she maps the Japanese syllabics of 5-7-5-7-7 onto English is impressive.

More importantly, the translation is itself a demonstration of the efficacy of adopting the syllabic shape of the Japanese onto English.  I feel the work can serve as a kind of textbook for those wishing to follow the traditional syllabic shape of the Japanese.

Hoping, in a minor way, to encourage more interest in this translation, I wrote the following review for Amazon and posted it today:

The Kokin Wakashu, compiled about 905, was the first Imperial Anthology of Tanka poetry.  It has had a huge influence on Japanese poetry in general, and particularly on the Japanese form of Tanka.  What we now call ‘Tanka’ today was, at the time of this anthology, known as ‘Waka’.  Tanka is the most important poetic form in Japanese culture.  It has had a continuous history of about 1400 years, and is still practiced by numerous Japanese poets at this time.

Japanese poetry is syllabic and the contours of Tanka have remained the same for its entire history: a five phrase (ku), or line, poem with the syllables distributed as follows: 5-7-5-7-7.  This gives the Tanka a total of 31 syllables.

One of the remarkable things about this translation by Helen McCullough is that she chose to map the syllabic count of the Japanese onto the English language in her translations.  What this does for the reader is to replicate the formal relationships that the poems have in the anthology.  I mean that in the original anthology all the poems have the same formal characteristics, the same syllabic count.  As you move from one poem to another a rhythm, or pulse, is felt.  This pulse is shared by all the poems no matter how different they may be in topic, image, and style.  McCullough’s translation replicates this relationship among the poems which is a great achievement.  And her translations are themselves superb; they are poems themselves.  I am in awe of how she was able to transform a Japanese poetic masterpiece into an English poetic masterpiece and retain the structural elements as she moved from one language to another.

The Waka Kokinshi consists of 1111 poems, grouped into topical chapters that include the four seasons, felicitations, parting, travel, wordplay, love, grief, and miscellaneous.  Because some topics have more than one chapter, the total number of chapters is twenty.  There are about 130 named poets, as well as numerous anonymous tanka.  The editors skillfully arranged the tanka so that they link to each other and there is a natural flow as one reads the tanka in sequence.  The skill with which the tanka are linked is amazing, considering the large number of poets.  The result is that each chapter is more than the sum of its parts.  In a way, each chapter resembles a beautifully crafted collage where all the parts contribute to an overall effect. 

If you are interested in Japanese poetry, this is an essential read.  The Waka Kokinshu became a textbook for how to craft Tanka.  Its poems are referenced allusively in countless poets down through the centuries.  The careful linking of the poems led to the emergence of renga, and out of renga emerged haiku.  So this collection of Tanka is in many ways the wellspring of Japanese poetry.

If you are an English language poet who has taken an interest in the tanka form, this work serves as an elegant teacher of how to craft a 31-syllable poem into a 5-7-5-7-7 structure in the English language.  Because McCullough’s translations are so elegant and so natively English, this translation serves as a guide for all those interested in English language tanka.

The book also contains two short, additional, works by the primary editor, Ki no Tsurayuki: the Tosa Nikki and the Shinsen Waka.  These two works give us a broader view of the main editor.  There are also excellent appendices that help in locating a specific poem you may be searching for.

This book was published in 1985.  Unfortunately, it has not received, in my opinion, the attention it deserves from English language poets writing in Japanese forms.  Part of the reason, I think, is the price.  My hope is that Stanford will issue this translation in paperback at some point in the near future so that the treasures found in this work can be accessible to a wider audience.

This is a grand work of poetry and one of the finest translations I have ever come across.  Lyrical, poignant, striking in its imagery, and universal in its humanity, it is a work that can nourish a lifetime.

Kokin Wakashu
The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry
Translated and Annotated by Helen Craig McCullough
Stanford University Press
ISBN: 9780804712583
$95.00



Friday, October 4, 2013

Tanka River

Greetings:

My latest book is called "Tanka River" and it is now available for purchase.

Tanka River contains five collections of Tanka:

Landscapes
Sketches from Life
The Gallery at the Gate of Repentance
Still Life
A Sequence on Love

In addition to the five collections of Tanka, the book "Tanka River" contains seven Tanka Melodies.  These are melodies specifically designed for the Tanka form.  The melodies can be used to create songs by combining verses from various sources.  The melodies function well for Tanka in general; they are not specifically for the Tanka I have written.  I have used these melodies on several occasions to create Tanka songs using Tanka from various sources and the audiences enjoyed them.  The melodies are simple, folk-like tunes.

Tanka River
ISBN: 9781490550756
$12.00

Available from Amazon and it can be ordered from your local bookstore.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Awake at Night

Granite cliffs flutter,
A stream's flowing in stasis,
Dream words have uttered
Clues that must be recovered --
Moonlight as an oasis

Thursday, June 13, 2013

The Human Condition

One foot in the stream
Of this world of constant change,
A vanishing dream;
One foot in eternity
A refuge of true safety

Saturday, June 8, 2013

T.V.

What did people do
With all of their evening hours
Before the T.V.?
They told each other stories
As the moon rose in the sky.

Monday, June 3, 2013

The Week Begins

The sound of sweeping
Outside of the bakery
On Monday morning
A pastery and coffee
Wakes me up, gets me going.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Untitled

Sitting quietly
Waiting for the sun to rise,
Waiting for the hour
When ev'rything becomes clear --
Ev'ything passes away

Friday, May 31, 2013

Unexceptional: Part 5 -- Are Japanese Syllables Too Short?

Unexceptional: Part 5 –
Are Japanese Syllables Too Short?

One of the bases for the idea that the Japanese language is uniquely unique is the brevity of the Japanese syllable.  The implication is that the Japanese syllable is so short that in comparison to English the difference results in a qualitative distinction.  This is one of the reasons why some ELH Haijin will refer to Japanese as using ‘morae’ (plural of ‘mora’) as opposed to English which uses ‘syllables’.

For example, in a 1993 paper by Anne Cuttler and Jacques Mehler, Mora or Syllable? Speech Segmentation in Japanese, the authors write in the Introduction:

“When Japanese poetic forms such as the haiku are rendered in other languages, an approximation to the prescribed form is usually achieved by specifying the number of syllables per line . . . But morae do not necessarily correspond to syllables.  Consider the first line of the haiku: shinshin-to.  Although it has the prescribed 5 morae (shi, n, shi, n, to), it has only 3 syllables (shin, shin, to).  The mora is a subsyllabic unit . . .”

To my mind, and not a few linguists, this is simply confused thinking.  As I have noted in previous posts in the Unexceptional series, the concept ‘syllable’ is not defined by the specific acoustic features of any particular language; that is to say the fact that Japanese count acoustic features, such as a concluding ‘n’, that English does not count does not mean that the Japanese are not counting syllables.  What it does mean is that Japanese count sounds that English speakers do not count.  But that is true of many languages, as I have noted in previous posts.

To my way of thinking the idea of ‘mora’ is a distinction without a difference.  If morae are subsyllabic, then what about the English syllable ‘it’; a very brief syllable.  Does the brevity of ‘it’ make it subsyllabic?  If it does not make it subsyllabic, then why would a Japanese ‘n’ be subsyllabic?  And what about other languages that also have shorter syllables than English; languages such as Spanish and Italian?  Does Spanish and Italian use morae or syllables?  Seriously; is this distinction of any help at all?  The idea of ‘mora’ is one of those academic conjurations that is little more than jargon posturing as insight.  It should be noted, though, that there is little agreement among linguists about this topic; if you look up papers on syllabic timing and usage you will find a whole range of differing opinions.  There does not seem to be any consensus.

There is a lot of literature in linguistics on the topic of syllable duration in various languages.  Much of it is highly technical.  But I don’t want to get side-tracked into a technical discussion when I believe that, for the most part, these technical considerations do not clarify; rather, in my opinion, they create a conceptual fog.  However, I think a few non-technical remarks are worth considering.

First, Japanese is not the only language which flows by at a more rapid rate than English.  Spanish and Italian, for example, are also more rapid than English.  When I say ‘more rapid’ I mean that the average syllable duration of Italian and Spanish is briefer than the average syllable duration of English.  In fact there are a great many languages that are more rapid than English.  Japanese, once again, is not unique in this regard; Japanese is unexceptional in its pacing.

There are also languages which are slower than English; tonal languages tend to be slower than English because speakers need time to enunciate the tone.  For this reason Chinese flows by, generally speaking, at a slower rate than English.

In other words, English is roughly in the middle when it comes to how fast the sound units, or syllables, of various languages flow by.  It is neither the slowest nor the fastest.  And speaking of being in the middle range; while Japanese is more rapid than English, from the studies I have read there are languages that are more rapid than Japanese.  Again, from the studies I have read, Thai consistently rates as the most rapid.  In other words, Japanese seems to occupy a speed that is only slightly faster than Spanish and Italian, but is surpassed by other languages such as Thai.

This puts both English and Japanese in the mid-range for speed of syllabic flow.  In other words, English and Japanese share the middle ground; neither of these languages is at the extreme.  Japanese is middle-fast, while English is middle-slow; but neither English nor Japanese is exceptional in its pace.

Before going further, I want to make a few remarks about the studies I have read.  First, many of the studies use a very small sampling; more than a few use a single speaker.  Statistically this leads me to be skeptical of the value of these studies.  I suspect that larger samplings would yield different results.

Further, some of the information about speed that is used by ELH Haijin is completely anecdotal, including some of the most often cited supporting claims.  Anecdotal reporting has its place and should not be dismissed out of hand.  But anecdotal reporting needs to be supported by further investigation if one is going to use these reports to make broad claims about language speed.

In addition, I have found that few studies take into account dialect variation.  Some studies I have read take British English as their standard of the pace of English syllable flow.  British English may differ from other types of English usage in terms of syllable pace.  Anecdotally, I strongly suspect that this is true.  When I was working construction, many years ago, I worked with many men from Texas as well as those from the Louisiana Bayou.  The long, slow-paced drawl of the Bayou dialect, I suspect, is significantly slower than standard British English.  On the other hand, I once had a forewoman on an assembly line who was Scott by birth.  Her English flew by at a rapid clip that took me some time to key into.  Again, I suspect the pace of Scottish English differs from that of standard British English.

The effect of dialect is not a minor consideration.  Millions of Indians speak English either as their primary language, or as a significant second language.  The steady flow of Indian English seems to me to differ, and to be more rapid, than that of standard British English.  Given what appears to me to be the wide variation in the pace of syllabic flow among different English dialects, I am reluctant to accept the generalizations about the pace of English verses the pace of Japanese when they are based on very small samplings of a single type of English.

Dialect further complicates the situation when one takes into account that there are regional dialects in Japan.  The question is, do these regional dialects effect the pace of the flow of the Japanese syllables?  Again, studies that do not take this into account make me inclined to regard their findings as of limited value; not valueless, but limited in terms of what kind of conclusion we can draw from their studies.

And finally, I think it is worth pointing out that context will effect pace.  If a subject knows they are being studied for the purposes of determining the pace of their language, this will inevitably effect their performance.  It will not be an example of a ‘natural’ interaction.  In addition, people change the pace of their output depending on the situation.  Speaking to children people tend to speak more slowly.  Speaking to long-term friends, people might speak very rapidly in comparison to their normal interaction.  When speaking to an audience this will also effect pace.

This last remark about audience is significant because some of the anecdotal stories about how rapidly people speak are derived from poetry readings.  Poetry readings are a highly specialized situation; they are not a normative use of a language and it is unlikely, I feel, that significant generalizations can be drawn from anecdotal reports of how people speak when reading their poetry.

None of this is to dispute the general conclusion that Japanese syllables are, on average, briefer than English syllables.  All the studies I have read support this conclusion.  The reason I bring up the above caveats is that even though it is true that Japanese is more rapid than English, one should not exaggerate the differences in the pacing of the two languages.  English and Japanese both occupy, as mentioned above, a middle ground when it comes to pacing.  They are not really so far apart when one looks at the full spectrum of language pacing.  I think this point needs to be emphasized because when reading some of the claims by ELH haijin one gets the impression that Japanese syllables are super-fast, or extraordinarily brief.  But that simply isn’t the case; rather Japanese occupies the middle ground with some languages just as fast and some faster.  And English also occupies this middle ground with some languages, like French, at roughly the same rate, some, like German or Chinese, slower, and some, like Italian, Spanish, and Japanese, faster.

All of this is very interesting, no doubt, for linguists.  But I would like to suggest for the readers’ consideration that all of this discussion about syllable duration is, quite simply, colossally irrelevant.  Consider the transmission of poetic forms from one culture to another, from one linguistic context to another.  When Latin poets in Rome began to write in hexameters they were imitating Greek; no one worried about the relative duration of Latin and Greek syllables.  When the Sonnet moved from Italy to England and France and Spain, no one felt that syllable duration was a factor of concern; it is never mentioned.  And perhaps most telling, when Japanese poets wrote in Chinese forms, using Chinese characters, what are called Kanshi, the Japanese were unconcerned with the fact that Chinese syllables are longer than Japanese syllables (and Chinese syllables are longer than English syllables as well).  Only in the case of the transmission of Japanese forms such as Haiku and Tanka has this issue been raised.

I find this revealing; and it only makes sense if one views the Japanese language as uniquely unique, as so completely different from other languages, from any other language, that one is compelled to treat it differently.  In other words, the foundation for the idea that the Japanese don’t count syllables, that they count something else, is, once again, nihonjinron, the highly problematic, and highly suspect, idea that the Japanese people and culture are estranged and distinct from the rest of humanity.

But there is another reason why the relative pacing of syllable duration is irrelevant: my view is simply that this idea that English (or other languages) should match the duration of Japanese poetic forms is a misunderstanding of how we should comprehend duration.  I would suggest for the readers’ consideration, especially for readers that have bought into the idea of the significance of Japanese syllable duration, that what we should be looking at is the relative duration within each linguistic context, not the absolute duration of the Japanese as a measure for non-Japanese languages. 

If Haiku in Japanese are written in 17 Japanese syllables and Haiku in English are written in 17 English syllables, the relative duration within each linguistic context is the same.  It is not that English and Japanese Haiku have the same absolute duration; in this they differ.  Rather it is that within each linguistic context their relative duration within their respective contexts is the same.  And, I would suggest, it is this relative duration that matters.  Notice, though, that if one approaches the issue this way, then all the discussions about syllable duration, syllable versus mora (or onji, or jion, or sound unit, or whatever term is currently in fashion) simply fall away.  Things become much simpler, much less cloudy, much more direct.

This is why I regard all these studies on duration to be a kind of huge mistake: it is completely unnecessary and does nothing to clarify the relationship between Japanese and non-Japanese using Japanese poetic forms.  In fact, there is a great advantage to the relative duration view: it is that for each language the same count will apply.  It will apply equally to German, Russian, Spanish, Hindi, Zuni, and Bantu.  The Haiku in all these languages would simply be constructed using the count of 5-7-5 syllables however each language counts, whatever sounds they count as a syllable.  Very simple.

In other words, and in conclusion – it doesn’t matter if Japanese syllables are shorter, longer, or the same as English syllables.  It is an irrelevant consideration.  It is time to simply put this line of reasoning aside. 





Saturday, April 6, 2013

Helen Craig McCullough Day for 2013

Just a quick note as I arrived at work early:  Today is Helen Craig McCullough Day.  She is the eminent translator of the Waka Kokinshu, an ancient collection of over 1000 Tanka/Waka.  Waka Kokinshu is the most influential collection of Tanka in Japan.  McCullough, however, didn't just provide us with a wonderful translation; which would be an accomplishment in itself.  McCullough has also demonstrated the efficacy of using the 5-7-5-7-7 syllabics in English because McCullough followed the traditional syllabic shape in her translations into English.  The result is an astonishingly vivid collection of English poetry which, I believe, will form the basis for the emergence of Tanka in the English speaking world.

Best wishes,

Jim

Monday, March 18, 2013

Unexceptional: Part 1


Unexceptional: Part 1

I’m going to take a few posts to talk about the Japanese language.  My comments in this post, Part 1, are going to be preliminary.

I hesitate to get into this subject.  It has been my experience on other online forums that the nature of the Japanese language, how it is viewed, and its relationship to other languages, particularly English, give rise to a lot of less than considerate interaction.  Perhaps I should forget about it; perhaps that would be wiser.  But here I go.

My main reason for posting these remarks is that there is a line of argument that asserts that Japanese and English are so different that one cannot really compare the two.  Therefore it is wrong to mimic the Japanese counting in English because what the Japanese count, when they are counting in order to compose Haiku and Tanka, is quite different from what English speakers are counting when English speakers count English syllables to compose English Language Haiku or Tanka.  The consequence of this kind of analysis is that the conclusion is drawn that mapping the counting procedure which is foundational for Japanese poetry forms, such as Haiku and Tanka, onto English is at best a misunderstanding, and shouldn’t be adopted by those with a deeper insight into the Japanese language.

The therefore is crucial here.  The argument is that because English and Japanese are so different, that therefore one should not compose syllabic Haiku or Tanka.  The argument is that a syllabic approach to Haiku is based on a misunderstanding of the Japanese language.  In other words, the view that Japanese is essentially different and unique is used as a foundation for a critique of a syllabic approach to English Language Haiku and Tanka.

This idea has a lot of traction; it appears in a significant number of Haiku manuals.  In addition, one runs into it on the web here and there, and not infrequently at poetry forums where someone, commenting on an English Haiku, written syllabically, will say something like, “You cannot compare the two languages.”

Let me be upfront: I have a different view.  My view is that the Japanese language is unexceptional.  My view is that Japanese count syllables just like English speakers count syllables.  My view is that the Japanese language is an ordinary language spoken by ordinary people in an ordinary culture.  My view is that not only can you compare the two languages, but also it is easy to do so.  I do it all the time.  A lot of people do.

However, and I want to emphasize this, I do not conclude from my view, I do not construct a therefore, that people should not compose free verse Haiku.  In other words, these comments I am making are not meant to undermine a free verse approach to Haiku.  There are excellent reasons to take a free verse approach to Haiku; there are examples of Japanese who take such an approach (not many, but there are some).  For example, free verse Haiku gives a poet the option of a more concise, focused, presentation.  At its best, free verse Haiku has a snap and energy that can be amazing. Free verse haiku also allows for flexibility of expression in response to what is being written about.  These virtues, when used by a good poet, do not depend on the nature of the Japanese language; they are sufficient unto themselves. 

In other words, I am not saying that because I believe that it is easy to compare Japanese and English, and because I believe that both languages count syllables, that therefore people should not compose free verse haiku.  That’s not my purpose.

My purpose is apologetic.  My purpose is to argue that it is legitimate to adopt a syllabic approach to English Language Haiku (ELH), that a syllabic approach is not based on a misunderstanding of the Japanese language, that it is not misguided and/or naïve.

My overall view is that the idea that the Japanese language is somehow deeply alien to English is rooted in the view that Japanese culture is unique.  Now, every culture is unique.  But when Japanese assert the uniqueness of their culture, and when westerners buy into this assertion, they are asserting that Japanese culture, and its language, is uniquely unique, that Japanese culture is incomparable.  In the case of language this view means that the Japanese language is literally not comparable to other languages such as English.

There is a large body of literature which discusses this view.  It is referred to in Japanese as nihonjinron; and, again, there is a large body of literature both in Japan and in the U.S. that discusses the widely held Japanese view that as a people they are utterly unique, or uniquely unique.  The most entertaining book I have read on this subject is by Robin D. Gill, an American who speaks fluent Japanese and lived and taught in Japan for many years.  He has also done a lot of translation; both from English into Japanese and from Japanese into English, including numerous translations of Japanese poetry.  His book on this topic is Orientalism and Occidentalism; and it is written with good humor and, at the same time, deep insight.  If you are interested in this topic I highly recommend it.

Let me say at once that this view of one’s own culture as uniquely unique is, paradoxically, unexceptional; it is not unique to Japan.  As an American I am well aware of how my own culture configures itself as uniquely superlative.  In the U.S. this doctrine is known as American Exceptionalism; it is the view that the U.S. is the best, most advanced, greatest nation that has ever existed on earth.  President Obama has publicly stated that he is in agreement with the view of American Exceptionalism.  It is a very widely held view in the U.S. with deep roots in doctrines such as Manifest Destiny.  So I am able to sympathize with the Japanese culture when it makes assertions about its culture being superlative and incomparable.  I get it. 

However, I don’t think either view is true.  From my perspective both Japan and the U.S. are just ordinary.  Both countries have done some wonderful things and some horrific things; just what you would expect of any culture that you are not identified with or defensive about.

My first experience with the linguistic aspects of nihonjinron go back about forty years.  In the seventies I was the Abbot of a Buddhist Temple in New York City.  My teacher was Korean.  At that time a Japanese Zen Master had set up a Zen Temple in New York.  At the morning and evening services they chanted a short Buddhist work known as The Heart Sutra; in Japanese.  The Zen Master’s American students wanted to chant in English.  I was drawn into these discussions because of my role as Abbot, because I was a white guy, and because my teacher was Korean and therefore not part of the Japanese Zen hierarchy.  The Zen Master was adamant about sticking with the Japanese.  When his students pointed out that Chinese chant in Chinese, Tibetans in Tibetan, etc., this did not persuade him.  The Zen Master was quite blunt; his view was that English was ‘primitive’, ‘combative’, and ‘incapable’ of communicating the subtleties of something like the Heart Sutra.  It happened that I knew that the Zen Master was fond of Shakespeare (many Japanese are).  So during the discussions I mentioned Shakespeare in passing, and that Shakespeare wrote in English.  Interestingly, this seemed to have an effect.  I am not sure, but I like to think that my little contribution softened the Zen Master’s stance and allowed for the chanting of the Heart Sutra in English, which eventually happened.

I tell this story because I believe that when Americans take a stance on the idea of Japanese linguistic uniqueness, they have absorbed some of the linguistic views of Japanese nihonjinron.  I believe this has been done unknowingly.  I say ‘unknowingly’ because I suspect that most Americans studying Japanese arts are not aware of how widespread the negative stereotypes of foreigners in general and Americans in particular found in nihonjinron are.  It resembles someone studying in the U.S. who is unaware of how pervasive the idea of American Exceptionalism is and how deeply embedded the history of this idea is in aspects such as manifest destiny.  A foreigner resident in the U.S. who might be studying aspects of U.S. business and finance, might uncritically absorb some aspects of American Exceptionalism; like the idea that American Democracy is the purest and most advanced form of Democracy that has ever appeared in the world.  In an analogous way, I think some Americans who have studied Japanese poetry have uncritically absorbed the idea of Japanese linguistic uniqueness.

In a strange way, Americans are primed for such misunderstanding because the idea of American Exceptionalism creates a psychology that is sympathetic to the world view of nihonjinron.  Particularly if an American has not critically examined Exceptionalism, then the idea of Japanese being uniquely unique will seem oddly familiar.  And the linguistic aspects of nihonjinron do not threaten an American’s view of American Exceptionalism because American Exceptionalism is not linguistically based.  That is to say the English language is not a specific cultural artifact of America; it came from England and is used by millions of non-Americans throughout the world.  In contrast, Japanese language usage maps almost perfectly onto the Japanese nation.  In a way, Japanese linguistic exceptionalism actually re-enforces American Exceptionalism by encouraging the view that different peoples are essentially different and estranged from each other.

In future posts I want to discuss specific aspects of this idea of Japanese linguistic uniqueness.  Part of this will be an open-ended inquiry into the idea of ‘syllable’.  And another part will be centered on the speed of Japanese and how that measures up to other languages.

In closing these introductory remarks, I want to restate that my purpose is not prescriptive.  I mean that I am not arguing for a particular approach to English Language Haiku or Tanka.  But what has happened is that a particular view of the Japanese language has been consistently used, and is still being used, to marginalize a syllabic approach to Haiku and Tanka in English.  I believe that this argument, this line of reasoning, is misguided.  Putting aside uniqueness, putting aside exceptionalism, I believe we have much more in common than is often acknowledged.


Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Tanka Day: 2013


Tanka Day: 2013

Today is the day set aside to celebrate the Tanka form of poetry.  It is one of the great traditions of formal syllabic verse.  It is a Japanese form that has a written history of about 1400 years.  During all these centuries the formal structure has remained the same: a five line (or ‘ku’) form of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables, a total of 31 syllables.   (A free verse 5-line poem in Japanese is called ‘Gogyoshi’, or sometimes, ‘Gogyohka’.)

Tanka is the seed form for all Japanese poetry.  Both Renga and Haiku ultimately have their origin in Tanka and the form remains central to Japanese poetry today.

The transmission of Tanka has been slow, much slower than Haiku.  Whereas Haiku is widely practiced in the U.S., Tanka has a much more muted presence.  Yet there are poets who compose in the Tanka form.  And through the new technologies they publish their work through print-on-demand outlets.  I thought this would be an appropriate day to review two new collections of Tanka, both published in 2012.

The first is simply titled ‘Tanka’, it is by Steve Townsend.  Townsend’s collection is a set of introspections, thoughts, and landscapes.  In tone Townsend reminds me somewhat of James Hackett, though perhaps not as explicitly philosophical.  The two poets also have a similar relationship to lineation: I mean that both of these poets are as likely to go beyond the traditional line count as they are to write under the traditional line count.  Here’s an example of a long-lined Tanka:

Past the darkest sky
into that infinite universe of stars
I launch my thoughts tonight,
and they fall back heavily to earth
I must go to sleep once again.

It’s a nice portrait of how mental activity can generate sleeplessness.  Notice the long count: Line 2 has 11 syllables, Line 4 has 9, and Line 5 has 8.  Yet the overall shape of classic Tanka is retained.  For Townsend the 5-7-5-7-7 is the center of gravity for the form, but it’s clear to me that he is treating the form as a recipe with variations.  I think he does an effective job.  Townsend has a sure grasp of lineation.  Almost always a line is a secure grammatical unit with run-ons practically nonexistent.  In a few of the Tanka the lines are rhyme defined.  Here is an example:

Cicadas no longer sing
and the tall trees begin to change
to bright red and gold,
the air has begun to chill
as the sun falls below the hills.

Again, notice the long Line 1 of 7 syllables, followed by Line 2 of 8.  Lines 4 and 5 end- rhyme effectively.  I think this is well done.  I like Townsend’s efforts.  The tendency to compose in longer lines gives his Tanka a sense of expansiveness and lyricism that I think you will enjoy.

The second collection is “River of Time” by Robert W. Barker.  It is subtitled ‘Six Seasons of Tanka’.  The six seasons are achieved by dividing winter into three separate periods such as ‘Early Winter’.  This is a Tanka diary.  The fact that it is a diary shapes the presentation.  What you are going to read are the thoughts and observations one would normally find in a diary, but in Tanka form.  It covers one year.

Barker is more committed to the 5-7-5-7-7 and doesn’t deviate from the classic syllable count.  One advantage of this is that as you read from one Tanka to another a steady rhythm is generated and they flow easily into each other.  These Tanka are, at times, very personal.  Here is one called ‘Alzheimers’:

Patiently she sits,
And holds their worlds together,
As he loses his;
Leaving, she turns, touches me,
“Pray you do not die this way.”

Like Townsend, Barker’s lineation is securely centered on grammatical phrasing.  As far as I was able to note, run-ons are non-existent.  This adds to the sense of rightness and shapes the Tanka well.  It is also a good demonstration of how naturally English can be shaped into phrases of 5 and 7 syllables.

Both of these books are short.  ‘Tanka’ by Townsend is 63 pages, and ‘River of Time’ is 63 pages as well.  ‘Tanka’ has two Tanka per page, while ‘River of Time’ has less than one Tanka per page, with some pages blank.  This makes ‘River of Time’ a small collection.

Interestingly, neither of these poets tell us what drew them to the Tanka form.  There are no ‘Introductions’ that let us know if they have a history with Tanka and/or Japanese poetry.  I suspect that they were introduced to the Tanka form in a class, perhaps a book of forms, or by a friend.  And the form resonated with them. 

If you are interested in syllabic Tanka in English both of these collections are worthy of one’s attention. 

Tanka
By Steven Townsend
ISBN: 9781475022179
Available at Amazon

River of Time:
Six Seasons of Tanka
By Robert W. Barker
9781475937541
Published by iUniverse
$8.95
Available also at Amazon