MY VIEW ON HAIKU - AFTER TWENTY YEARS
Marko Hudnik
About twenty years have passed since I started reading haiku and also
writing them myself. From the first moment I have had doubts about the
success of my attempts. Is what I have written good as a poem, is it a
haiku at all? I have been reading various opinions about what a real haiku
is, theoretical works written by Japanese and western poets. I still think
that the book Japanska haiku poezija (Japanese Haiku Poetry) by Dr. Vladimir
Devidé touched me most. But even this book did not answer all the questions
I was asking myself: Is it possible to tell everything in a haiku, to
sing oneself out like that cricket of Basho´s? If not, I said, is there
any point in devoting myself to haiku? My next question refers to the
problem to what extent is it necessary to consider the original Japanese
patterns. I had several doubts here, for example: can a western poet understand
the Japanese sense of humour correctly? And probably vice versa: the Japanese
may not understand our humour correctly. Here we may find the explanation
for many misunderstandings which we, as westerners feel, rather than clearly
perceive in connection with haiku. The best judgement would probably be
given here by those westerners who have really probed into the heart of
Japanese culture, for example Vladimir Kos. I noticed, however, that even
they are not quite free from doubts. A Japanese by birth, the American
university professor Kenneth Yasuda, who published a book on haiku and
also wrote a great number of American haiku himself, was sure that a western
haiku should be as near to western poetics and literature as possible,
therefore he wrote his English haiku in rhyme. This idea has recently
been taken up again by Dimitar Anakiev, who published Basho`s haiku translated
first into Serbian and later into Slovenian (in Primorska srecanja). Together
with his rhymed translations Anakiev published the explanation for his
decision. He refers to the humour and playfulness, characteristic of classical
Japanese haiku. The answer to this is not easy. I am convinced that it
is nearly impossible for us to understand the Japanese sense of humour
because it is essentially different from our own.
It seems to me that the
Japanese see things like this: humour is essential or at least desirable
in a haiku, but because everything is transient a dark feeling of loneliness
and sadness prevails. These feelings, in our European way of thinking,
are not compatible with the playful humour brought into haiku with rhyme.
I wonder whether any of the feeling that we tried to experience when we
imitated Japanese ideals remains in such haiku, which are like children's
rhymes.
Dr. Devidé has always rejected rhyme in haiku, being convinced that it
is too obtrusive. I believe that anyone who has any sense of these things
will agree with him. Even if we want humour and playfulness in haiku,
this cannot be the playfulness of rhyme. This is not the playfulness of
a street organ, of a brass drum, of a children`s two line rhyme. In this
respect undoubtedly Devidé and not Yasuda was right.
Anyway, have we not decided to write haiku like any other poetry, which
means that we should not set too many rules and obstacles to individual
creativity? Even so, I still ask myself again and again: why then should
we write haiku at all? Why shouldn't each of us simply write short poems
in any sort of style and publish them in general literary magazines? But
if we write haiku, does it not make sense to set some limits and decide
what is the minimum which makes a haiku a haiku, which assures us that
it is still worth writing haiku? Inwardly, I have for some time been slowly
taking leave of haiku (at least as a writer), but I am still interested
in this project to such an extent that I decided to find answers to these
questions which would satisfy me. I need them as editor of our magazine
Letni casi (The Seasons). Here I have sketched my answers. I am trying
to be concise and clear, I have never liked theorizing.
What is essential for a haiku – a non-Japanese haiku - today? Three lines?
The season or key word? The haiku moment? Seventeen syllables? Conciseness?
Surprise? Having two parts? My answer is: In my opinion it is most essential
for haiku to proceed from a concrete image, based on sensual impression.
For example a frog, a clarinet, a crane. (In the latter case it must be
clear, of course, whether we mean a bird or a machine). But what about
images like revolution, Christ´s suffering, Agamemnon´s grave? I have
purposely quoted three images from thousands and thousands of similar
ones. Is something like that valid instead of a frog or a crane? It is,
if the poet can convince us that there is something just as concrete and
tangible behind these images. And of course, a haiku can also proceed
from an improper exclamation, like Shit! Or Fuck off! I am less enthusiastic
about using technical, for example medical terms – instead of "improper"
ones. (For example: «"urination" instead of "pissing").
I believe the answer was clear enough to me. The core image of a haiku
must be »concrete«, or such that we can feel it as deeply as a concrete
image. I do not accept haiku proceeding from vague ideological, mythological,
"deep" or "sophisticated" notions, based on meanings
and not on images. Anyone who writes this sort of haiku is actually trying
to write contemporary poetry. I wish him luck.
I do not want to say that haiku should be left at this. There is, however,
another question: Can a good haiku arise from a concrete image alone?
The answer is: no. The image which is no more than an image, is actually
a haiku called a "haiku, so what" by American haiku writers.
Haiku proceeds from a concrete image, but its aim is somewhere beyond.
The image should contain something that makes a poem of it, something
unusual. Combining both requirements, I could say: A haiku is everyday
life containing a mystery. Or: a good haiku must also be a good poem.
Jesenice, June 2004
English translation:
Silva Mizerit, Slovenia
Proof-reader: Norman Darlington, Ireland