To me leaving
To you who stay
Two autumns.
– <a href="https://www.world-today-news.com/bhagwal-singh-is-an-ardent-fan-of-haiku-poems-bhagaval-singh/” title=”Bhagwal Singh is an ardent fan of Haiku Poems | | Bhagaval singh”>Masaoka Shiki
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Masaoka Shiki (正岡子規, 1867-1902), Japan’s ‘father of modern haiku’, whose short life ended at the age of thirty-five. He established what had previously been called haikai as ‘haiku’ and wrote about 20,000 haiku until his death at age 35, even though he suffered from pulmonary tuberculosis from the age of 23.
In his prime, he wrote many works under the pen name Dugyeonsae (子規, Shiki), which refers to crying and vomiting blood after bleeding for a week. From the age of 29, my illness worsened and I had to stay in bed. The force that helped me endure my short and harsh life was poetry.
He had a friend he had been with since his school days. Among them, his closest friend was novelist Natsume Soseki. The two, who are of the same age, met while attending the University of Tokyo. The beginning of our friendship was when Soseki wrote a critique at the back of Shiki’s collection of works. At this time, Soseki used the pen name ‘Soseki’ for the first time, which was originally one of Shiki’s many pen names. The two were close friends, to the point where Shiki gave him her pen name.
The two shared a boarding room, traveled together, and discussed life and literature. We also provided space to present each other’s works. Shiki published “I Am a Cat,” Soseki’s successful work and Japan’s first modern novel, in the Haiku magazine he founded. The second work, “Young Master,” was also published in that magazine and gained great popularity.
The haiku introduced today, ‘To me who leaves/ To you who stays/ Two autumns’, was written by Shiki when he went to his hometown to recuperate and to soothe his regret when they parted ways with Soseki, who was working as a middle school teacher there. It was a poem that prepared for the ‘two autumns’ between those who leave with a sick body and those who stay there.
In response, Soseki gave his friend hope by replying, ‘In the autumn wind/ Living and seeing each other/ You and I.’ Also, when I received a poem titled ‘Lent me/ I don’t have an umbrella/ A rainy spring day’, I responded with ‘It’s raining spring/ Holding myself close/ One umbrella.’
Last week, I introduced you to Soseki’s haiku, ‘Hongsi, don’t forget / that you too were astringent / in your youth,’ and Shiki also wrote many poems about persimmons. Among them, there is a poem called ‘Three Thousand Numbers / Haiku Research / Two Persimmons.’ This is a picture of a side of life in which one satisfies one’s hunger with only two persimmons while studying non-stop.
Another poem, ‘When you eat a persimmon/ A bell rings/ Horyuji’ is also very good. It was written at Horyuji, a famous ancient temple in Nara. There is a lot of persimmon there. The beauty of this poem is that it combines the persimmons spread across the river and the atmosphere of the ancient capital with the sound of bells. He stopped at a tea shop in front of the temple and ordered tea and persimmons. It is said that the moment he took a bite, a bell rang. It’s exquisite to combine Gam’s popular image and the reputation of a Buddhist temple with auditory elements.
The following poem was written by him towards the end of his life.
How many times
The depth of the fallen snow
I asked.
Heavy snow is falling outside, and the room is quiet. The poet asks how much snow fell. My mother and younger sister looked out the window with wet eyes and answered intermittently. The reason the poet keeps asking is because the illness is so deep that he cannot move his body. The midwinter solitude before death is chilling. His disciple changed the door to glass so he could see the snowy landscape, but he eventually died. The silence of the poem seems to quickly turn into sadness, but it is surprising how it soon sublimates into a view of moon in silence.
The poem ‘First day of the new year/Nothing good or bad/I’m just human’ shows this state. This too was written from a hospital bed.
Writers call him ‘the father of modern haiku.’ However, baseball fans call him ‘the father of Japanese baseball.’ When baseball had just arrived in the United States following the Meiji Restoration, he became as enamored with it as he was with haiku. It was he who translated baseball terms into Japanese kanji.
After dropping out of college due to illness, he joined a Japanese newspaper as a reporter and pursued literary activities. At that time, baseball terms from English were translated into Chinese characters through Japanese newspapers. From the name of the sport of baseball to terms such as batter, runner, and shortstop, all are his works. It is thanks to this that his statue hangs alongside famous players at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Tokyo.
A monument to Shiki is erected in Ueno Park, Tokyo. His haiku is engraved on the monument: ‘In the spring breeze/ I want to throw a ball/ in the grass field (春風やまりを投げたき草の原).’ I feel like I’m picturing before my eyes the past where I used to throw and hit balls in my youth.
He once played as a player and spread baseball to his hometown, Matsuyama, Shikoku. Thanks to this, many Japanese baseball players came out of Shikoku and it became famous as the ‘town of baseball.’ There is even a saying that the term baseball itself was created by combining ‘No’ and ‘Boru’ (Japanese pronunciation of ball) of his other pen name ‘Noboru Masaoka’, so he is truly the ‘father of Japanese baseball’. It’s worth listening to.
■ Poet Go Doo-hyeon: Winner of the JoongAng Ilbo Spring Literary Contest in 1993. Published poetry collections such as 『Late Package』, 『Letter from Mulmi Coast』, 『Seeing the Back Side of the Moon』, and 『When the Old Road Turns and Looks at Me』. Won the Kim Dal-jin Literary Award, the Yushim Award, etc.
