Haiku Thursdays: Bonen (1658-1727)
Notes for an Unfinished Miscellany #2: Kireji, Cutting, & Joining
Bonen 牡年 (1658-1727)
Family Name: [Mukai 向井]
{Nagasaki} <Shōmon school>
Family: Shinken (b), Kyorai (b), Rochō (b), Chine (s), Ukō (s?), Tagami (?), Ushichi (?), Teacher: Kyorai, Bashō
P: ^Sarumino (Monkey Straw Raincoat, 1691), ^Arisoumi (Rough Seashore, 1695), ^Infutagi (1697), ^Zoku Sarumino (Sequel to Monkey Straw Raincoat, 1698), ^Wataridorishū (Migrating Birds Collection, 1704), etc.
樫の木にたよる山路の時雨哉 kashi no ki ni | tayoru yamaji no | shigure kana oak 's tree <on | rely mountain-path 's | winter rain . . . mountain path sheltered by oak trees . . . winter rain on oak trees the mountain path relies . . . winter shower
Born in Nagasaki, Bonen came from the well-known Mukai family, and held the offce of machidoshiyori (lit. town elder). He learned haikai from his older brother Kyorai, a prominent Shōmon poet, close with Bashō. Bonen's other older brother, Rochō, and younger sister Chine, as well as extended family like Tagami and her nephew Ishichi, were also involved in the Nagasaki branch of the Shōmon, centered around Kyorai's understanding of Bashō's teachings. Bonen was also skilled in kanshi (Chinese-style poetry).
からじりの蒲團ばかりや冬の旅
karajiri no / futon bakari ya / fuyu no tabi
light-load 's / blanket <only — / winter 's journey
(on a horse)
traveling light
with only a blanket—
winter journey
A slightly freer translation;
unburdened
just me and my futon—
winter journey
Welcome to another Haiku Thursday. This week, two winter hokku from Bonen, which feels pretty fitting here in New Zealand, where the rainy season is just getting started. I can hear the wind outside, roaring. It’s late, almost 2am, and I have about a third of a mug of Genmaicha left, cold but still pleasant. . .
Bonen’s brother was Kyorai, one of Bashō’s closest students. Kyorai was also responsible for compiling Kyoraishō after Bashō’s death, one of the main sources of information on Bashō’s poetic thoughts and theories today. As I mentioned last week, haiku—descended from the standalone hokku—are poems with 17 kana (i.e. a Japanese ‘syllable’), typically in a 5-7-5 rhythm (but not always), and containing 1 kire’ji (i.e. joining-word), and 1 ki’go (i.e. season-word). This Thursday, let’s talk about the kireji—
Kireji are punctive words, which serve to “cut” the poem, often into two (or more) fragments. They are voiced words, but basically serve the function of punctuation, which has lead to English-language haiku using un-voiced punctuation marks as an equivalent. The two most common English-language “kireji” are the ellipses (...) and the em-dash (—), used either at the end of the 1st or 2nd line. They have the benefit of not being “everyday” punctuation, so retain some of the impact that kireji have in Japanese.
The use of the ellipsis and em-dash in English haiku was derived, in part, from the two most popular kireji in Japanese: kana and ya. “Kana” is used in the first ku above, and is always placed at the end of the verse.
“Ya” is used in the second ku, at the end of the 2nd phrase (sometimes it is also used after the 1st phrase). “Ya” is a kind of hard “cut” or “join” which has been most commonly translated as an em-dash, for somewhat self-evident reasons.
The effect of “kana” on the other hand, is a kind of soft exclamation, which cuts or separates out the final phrase from the rest of the verse in a gentler fashion. As Gabi Greve explains; “By using kana at the end, it might look like one scene/theme/line, but it in fact expresses a juxtaposition/combination of a second scene/theme in the last line.” Greve recommends using the ellipses at the end of the second phrase to achieve a similar effect in English.
While kireji is traditionally translated as “cut word” (kire = cut, ji = word), and this is certainly valid, I have always preferred the term ‘pause word’, as used by Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai team in the handbook, Haikai & Haiku (1958), or ‘joining word’. The term ‘cut’ in English carries with it a certain expectation of shock: a jolt, a fissure, a rupture, and so on. However, the term ‘kire’ in Japanese refers not only to sharpness and cutting, from the verb kiru (to cut), but also means ‘pieces’, ‘fragments’, or ‘strips’, particularly in reference to the ‘scraps’ of cloth left over from embroidery and sewing (and can simply mean ‘cloth’ in some contexts). In sewing, “cutting” is transitionary, an action rather than a result—a “cut” is made only so the resulting ‘fragments’ might be sewn back together again—transforming the ‘cut’ into “folds” and “pleats” (etc.).
Focussing on the term “cut” in English discussions has also tended to limit the potential of haiku discursively: cutting it off at the feet, so to speak. Bashō used the term toriawase to describe the essence of kireji, meaning an ‘assortment’ or ‘assemblage’ (lit. “to take together and join”), containing a vast range of possible effects and affects, including but not limited to: linkages, likenesses, combinations, comparisons, contrasts, joinings, juxtapositions, and so on. However, in English “cutting” is overwhelmingly understood in terms of ‘contrast’ and ‘juxtaposition’ alone . . .
Okay, that’s it for this Haiku Thursday. We’ll pick up next week with some discussion around kigo. As always feel free to leave comments in poetic form—especially haiku. And if you’re doing NaPoWriMo, Bonen’s poems would make great prompts. ;-) And finally, here’s an old rain haiku of my own, from a few years back, just for good measure . . .
like a poem swollen with rain . . . earthworm
xoxo
dw
I like your haiku best!