Shirane, Haiku history and haiku by Basho
While reading the text on Basho, I found it particularly interesting the emphasis placed on juxtaposition when referring to the pairing of two images, and the tension that is derived from such. The example of the Princess Saho image with the added verse shito o su evokes a visceral and gritty discourse that comments on what precedes it. Knowing that the haikai “spirit” has the intention to recontextualise, subvert, and deconstruct to defamiliarise, is valuable in understanding when approaching a translation. I’d be interested in experimenting with harsh and terse shifts in phrasing (much like the Princess Saho) to see how this effect contextualizes the two disparate images. Something I appreciated when reading about Basho’s preferable subjects was his gravitation toward the “mundane, everyday lives of farmers and fisherman” (180). As this is a topic I enjoy writing about, having the opportunity to translate one of Basho’s haikais would be beneficial. I was specifically drawn to the lines labelled “on the road”, and “composed while ill”.
Salad Anniversary
Considering the previous reading on Basho, the notion of contrast within Tawara’s poem is an interesting factor, one that would prove intriguing when dealing with a translation. “The emotions are genuine and deeply felt, but never bitter or overwhelming. The sadness of ending a relationship is balanced by relief…” (139). Upon reflection, maybe contrast isn’t the right word, but balance is more accurate. Applying the intention of balance to a translation is something I am looking forward to experimenting with, treating a piece of work like an ecosystem where if one thing is removed, something else, seemingly distant, may be affected.
Yosano Akiko - Japan's First Feminist Poet
The particular part of the ABC radio conversation that I found intriguing in regard to Akiko and Japanese society was the idea of repression. Pulvers states that, as it is well known, Japan “values decorum and prosperity and civility… but it’s not a prudish society”. The tanka recited from Disheveled Hair was full of longing and yearning, yet felt to have somewhat of a clandestine and hushed tone. It was also interesting to learn that the judgement received from this expression was transferred (with more vitriol) to her anti-war tanka. I found myself wondering how a translation of this type of work can maintain and communicate defiant core.
Keynote: The pleasures of haiku: From Basho to Shiki and beyond
I really appreciated Beichman’s reading of Basho’s haiku, Octopus Pots, and further her description of the calmness and tranquility of realising everyday things, and how the correct recognition and articulation of such provides an ethereal texture to the work. The reading of an excerpt from Shiki’s Drop of Ink was incredibly powerful. Specifically the detail of how a haiku is described as an organically occurring and somewhat unstoppable thing, the need to write it on a lampshade due to not having the appropriate materials at the ready. The urgency applied to such an art form begs the question of how this lore and philosophy may be translated. It seems to be a practice so full of sincerity and stripped of ego. Something else to be considered is Basho’s “mastery of tone of sublimity”, a tone that I associate with the capturing of power and grandeur of a natural place. If a translator working on such a text has not experienced these locations or natural phenomena specific to place, how does the truth transfer?
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