Haikai & Haiku—A Short Introduction Part 3: Kigo

Issue #3: With Hokku by Bakusui

There are three fundamental aspects of haiku: kana, kireji, and kigo. Last week we discussed kireji (i.e. cut/join words) and the week before that we discussed kana (i.e. syllable counting and form). This week, we are going to discuss the third, and final, aspect: kigo (season words and seasonal references), drawing on the poems and poetic theory of the poet Bakusui (1718-1783), who’s work I find extremely useful in understanding the role of seasonality in haiku.

Bakusui was; “A merchant, poet, and theorist. He studied the haikai traditions of Shikō and Otsuyū [leaders of the ‘rustic’ schools of haikai], but later became a severe critic of their styles. Eventually his interest turned to the style of the Minashiguri collection and the early style of Kikaku [a leader in ‘city’ style haikai]. Bakusui was from Kanazawa, [studied rangaku (Dutch science) in Nagasaki, and then lived in the cities of Edo, Kyōto, and several other places].” (Jonsson, p371) He was a key poet in the Bashō revival movement, and friendly with both Buson and Chiyo, two of the most well-known haiku poets of the 1700s.

     
路かへて庵へもどるや菫草
michi kaete / io e modoru ya / sumiresō
path <change / hut < go-back – / violets-grass-wild

      a different path
      returning to my hut—
      wild violets
    

Bakusui was included in the Yahantei anthology Akegarasu (Dawn Crow, 1773), edited by Kitō and Buson, aligning him with the broader Bashō revivial movement. As a theorist and anthologist, “he wrote a work on poetics, Shōmon Ichiya Kuju, then an anthology of haiku, Shin Minashiguri (New Hollow Chestnut, 1777),” in homage to the early Bashō school anthology Minashigure (“Hollow Chestnut”, 1683); “The style of the poetry in this collection is often exaggerated and wild, even harsh... and shows a free attitude toward the form, often exceeding the number of beats in the verses. This style became associated with Kikaku and 'city-style' haikai,” and Bakusui, having rejected the 'country-style' of his teachers Shikō and Otsuyū, believed that the “study of this collection [was] the most effective way to revitalize the haikai of his age.” (Jonsson, p231) This would lead to him developing a number of innovative approaches to haiku, which can be seen in in action throughout the strikingly vibrant hokku he wrote.

    
己が身に秋を染めぬく蜻蛉かな
ono ga mi ni / aki wo somenuku / tombo kana
one's-own < body on / autumn < dye|colour / dragonfly . . .

      dyeing
      its body with autumn . . .
      dragonfly
    

Herbert Jonsson outlines Bakusui's theory of poetics in relation to the Bashō revival, through the concept of eisha (reflection); “On the surface, a poem may look like a simple description of a scene or a situation, but a full understanding is only reached when one grasps the mood or feeling inside, in the way suggested by the surface. What is important is to appreciate this whole process, from surface to inside. [or depth].” This approach to aesthetics and poetics, “was originally developed by the painter and poet Gion Nankai (1677-1751),” (Jonsson, p70-71) who described 'eisha theory' as the ‘moon on the water’, or ‘flowers in a mirror’: Paint the reflection! Write the shadow!

     
寝た下へ月流れこむすゞみかな
neta shita e / tsuki nagarekomu / suzumi kana
“bed” below < / moon flow-into / cool-onesself . . .

      under the bed
      moonlight streams in . . .
      evening cool
     

“Eisha theory was adopted by the haikai master Chōsui and his followers in Edo, and especially by his disciple Shirao. In their writings... we find many references to Nankai’s terminology, and also a development of it into the terms of shi-jō (shape and feeling), which had already been used in earlier haikai theory... used to designate two levels of meaning in a poem, where the shape was understood in the same way as the objective surface, and the shapeless feeling corresponded to the emotional inside... The common view was that the shape should come first in our understanding and the feeling afterwards, but in Shirao’s later works we find the opinion that these two levels existed simultaneously.” (Jonsson, p71) This also has a relationship to theories of yin (i.e. objective, descriptive, extensive, motive) and yang (subjective, inscriptive, intensive, emotive).

      
春の夜や眠らぬ人は我と誰
haru no yo ya / nemuranu hito wa / ware to tare
spring 's night – / sleep-not person < / me <with who

      spring night—
      who will stay awake
      with me?
       

This then influenced Baskusui's theory of poetry in terms of his emphasis on the importance of “shapeless feeling” in haikai. Bakusui called this aspect of poetry mukei no tama (lit. “shapeless gem”) which “goes beyond the outward shapes and plain scenery” (the said and sayable) to embrace the depth of the “shapeless feeling” (the unsaid and unsayable). (Jonsson, p71)

     
何見ると問ふ人多し春の月
nani miru to / tō hito ōshi / haru no tsuki
what? look-at “” / ask people-many / spring 's moon

      “what are you looking at?"
                everyone asks,
                     spring moon
     

In his first essay on haiku published in 1882 Shiki singles out Bakusui as being a poet worth reading, in terms of his elegance and classical diction. For Shiki contemporary haiku had become too “common” and “personal” in tone, and he saw the classical-style of poets like Bakusui and Bashō, as being useful to the revitalization of the art of haikai, when combined with contemporary imagery of the Meiji era, like “trains, steamships, overcoats, and straw hats.” (Yamagiwa, Japanese Literature of the Shōwa Period)

What does all this have to do with kigo? Kigo, as I said at the beginning, are specialist words (-go) used in haiku which indicate the season (ki-). This can be done in a number of ways: 1) By directly mentioning the season (spring rain, summer moon, etc.); 2) By indirectly mentioning the season, using a reference from the natural world (cherry blossoms and camellias bloom in spring, summer nights are short, etc.); 3) By suggesting the season, through reference to shared cultural practices, events, and celebrations (the doll festival in spring, the airing of clothes in summer, etc.); 4) Through the use of kigo derived from historical poetic conventions, rather than direct experience (bush-warblers sing all year round, however in haiku they traditionally suggest spring).

Haiku have been (mis-) characterised in the West as ‘nature’ poems, often being compared to painting and sketching. This has lead to haiku being thought of as ‘landscape’ poems, and many Western commentators claim that haiku should NOT use symbolism or metaphor, should NOT have emotional content or personal feelings, should avoid subjectivity, and so on. Instead, we are told, they should be ‘objective’ descriptions of the so-called ‘natural-world’.

However, this is a gross misreading of the role of kigo in haiku. As the Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai team write in Haikai and Haiku (imo, the best haikai handbook available in English, originally published in 1958, and unfortunately long out of print and difficult to obtain); “The season word represents a ki-no-mono (lit. a ‘thing of season’) and decides and unifies the mood of the whole poem” produced by the “close association of phenomena from nature or activities in human life with particular seasons.” They continue, stating that kigo “must be understood in particular aesthetic association with people’s feelings.”

Hence, as we can see, kigo reflects the relationship between seasonal changes and emotion, whether through reference to human activities or to ‘nature’ (and, of course, in Japanese philosophy these are the same thing, as humans are merely part of the greater natural world; unlike in Western philosophy which tends to stress the divide between ‘nature’ and so-called ‘culture’). Furthermore, far from being a simple ‘nature sketch’ the kigo is always, on some level at least, symbolic, and full of kokoro (heart). Of course, there are ‘landscape’ haiku, but these tend to be in the minority in Japanese traditions.

At the outset, kigo have three primary functions: 1) The first, of course, is to embed the poem in a particular seasonal movement: an environment, a culture, a planetary cycle (sun, earth, moon, etc.). It links the poem to the motion of the universe: naturally and culturally, celestially and spiritually, practically and poetically. This is what gives haiku its sense of belonging; 2) The second is to imbue the poem with emotion (a feeling, a mood, an atmosphere) through lyrical suggestion; 3) The third is to open up a complex intertextual poetic field, as each kigo has a specific poetic, and cultural, history.

Hence, the skill of haikai typically lies in writing a poem that may look like a quick sketch of ‘nature’, but which resonates emotionally (aided by the use of kireji, as discussed last week). Oftentimes, as a reader, it may be difficult to pinpoint immediately why the poem produced a certain feeling, or emotional response, through suggestive combinations of imagery. And when a haiku is particularly well constructed it can layer meaning in such a way that the poem can be read as a descriptive sketch and as lyrical suggestion and as intertextual meta-poetry (and, and, and…) simultaneously.

For instance, in terms of meta-poetic uses of kigo, Bakusui’s ‘spring moon’ haiku is a wonderful example;

    
      “what are you looking at?
                everyone asks,
                     spring moon
    

In Japanese culture, the full moon of autumn was conventionally considered the most striking of the year. Festivals were held in its honour, and on the night of the full moon people would hold gatherings for moon-viewing (tsukimi). Moon-viewing also became a popular topic for haikai poets, and due to its cultural significance any unmodified mention of the moon came to signify autumn. Hence, when Bakusui is caught admiring the spring moon, he is asked “Why?” Meta-poetically this becomes a subtle critique of the state of orthodox haikai at the time, and the reliance on conventional kigo (i.e. drawn from cliché). Bakusui instead advocates for embodied kigo (drawn from experience). Again, while Bakusui’s poem may appear to be a simple joke about moon-viewing—and make no mistake, it is this too—it is also layered with philosophical, critical ideas around the nature of haikai and poetic imagery. At all times meaning unfolds according to the logic of both/and, rather than either/or. And in this spirit, there are always sections in haikai anthologies for mukigo (i.e. haiku not containing a kigo), but that’s a discussion for another time . . .

Dam - this got long, and I’m almost out of space! So we’ll leave it there. If you’re enjoying the series please consider subscribing, tipping, sharing, or commenting—it all helps! And if you’re feeling inspired please feel welcome to leave a seasonal haiku off your own in the comments! And as always, here’s a a few of my ku to finish things off;

     
        5 Seasonal Ku by Dick Whyte

New Year

      new sky . . .
      involuntarily
      i grunt

Summer

      forged
      in the sun's belly:
      blowfly

Autumn

      making
      a leaf out of words . . .
      new gods

Winter

      dusk—
      water in the sky,
      waiting 

Spring

      blossoms
      and bird shit . . .
      beautiful!


                            xoxo
                            dw

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