For the Love of Issa

Issa
First published online in a slightly different version at David Lanoue’s site, Haiku of Kobayashi Issa, on 11 July 2006. For my review of the Issa book by Matthew Gollub, see also Two Books for Children. See also my poem “Flowers on the Roof of Hell.”

 

        来たら蛙になれよ冷し瓜
        hito kitara kawazu to nare yo hiyashi uri
 
        Cool melons—

              turn to frogs!

              If people should come near.

(translation by Matthew Gollub, from Cool Melons—Turn to Frogs! The Life and Poems of Issa. New York: Lee & Low, 1998, p. 35)

 

When describing the great Japanese masters of haiku, the traits that always arise to distinguish Issa are his folksy and empathetic style and a penchant for what Lewis Mackenzie called “a cheerful and endearing interest in the smallest matters of daily life” (The Autumn Wind: A Selection from the Poems of Issa, Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1957, 1984, p. 7). Indeed, the attitude of Issa’s poems on snails, fleas, sparrows, and crickets, as well as his careless way of life, have made him surely the most endearing poet in the history of Japan. Yet he wrote with such cheer despite great hardship and tragedy: His mother died when he was three, his stepmother despised him and made him work in the fields instead of going to school, he was forced to leave home at fourteen, he lived a life of much poverty, and though he later married and found some literary success as a haiku poet, his children died very young, as did one of his wives. Yet he wrote 20,000 haiku in his lifetime (1763–1828), and though they are not without sadness and other emotions, he is best remembered for his indomitable spirit of joy. Issa is easy to love.

        I don’t recall when I first learned of Issa, but I do know I read Lewis Mackenzie’s book on the poet in 1988, and for me Issa has been a poetic touchstone for empathy and an appreciation of the small ever since. Mackenzie admits that “in Issa’s verse there is much that is mediocre and monotonous” (p. 3), but then it is best to judge a poet by his or her finest work, not the poorest, and it is this finest work for which I deeply admire and remember Issa. Perhaps one of his most unforgettable poems is this one:

 

        露の世は露の世ながらさりながら
        tsuyu no yo wa tsuyu no yo nagara sari nagara

 

        The world of dew—

        A world of dew it is indeed,

        And yet, and yet . . .

                (translation by Lewis Mackenzie, p. 5)

 

Listen to the bubbling, tumbling sounds in Japanese. It somehow sounds happy! Yet we know this poem was written after the third death of his very young children, and in it we feel both the lament of loss (that it’s a transient world of dew) and yet the pull of that cheerful spirit. He is still able to find beauty in the world despite—or maybe even because of—its transience.

        Later, Issa wrote the following three poems that relate to dew. Again, notice the frequent repetition of Japanese sounds in these and many other poems he wrote—an aural characteristic that contributes to the appeal of his verses, both for children and adults. (All unattributed translations are by David Lanoue throughout this essay.)

 

        露の玉一ッ一ッに古郷あり
        tsuyu no tama hitotsu hitotsu ni furusato ari

 

        in beads of dew

        one by one my home

        village

 

        只頼め頼めと露のこぼれけり
        tada tanome tanome to tsuyu no kobore keri

 

        simply trust! trust!

        dewdrops spilling

        down

 

        よい世じゃと露がざんぶりざんぶり哉
        yoi yo ja to tsuyu ga zanburi zanburi kana

 

        a good world?

        dewdrop

        dribbling down

 

        Here is another poem that typifies Issa’s identification with small things around him, like the sympathetic “cool melons” poem quoted at the beginning:

 

        痩蛙まけるな一茶是に有り
        yase-gaeru makeru na issa kore ni ari

 

        scrawny frog, hang tough!

        Issa

        is here

 

He sees the vulnerability of the frog, and offers himself as protection and support, yet really Issa himself is that frog. Mackenzie states that “his strength and simplicity had brought something back to poetry lacking almost since Bashō’s death” (p. 39), and we see this unshakable spirit borne out over and over again in his deceptively simple poems.

        The following are four more poems that show Issa’s identification with his surroundings, the first, third, and fourth of which are among his most famous haiku:

 

        やれ打な蝿が手をすり足をする
        yare utsu na hae ga te wo suri ashi wo suru

 

        don’t swat the fly!

        praying hands

        praying feet

 

        前の世のおれがいとこか閑古鳥
        saki no yo no ore ga itoko ka kankodori

 

        In another world

        Was I perhaps your cousin

        Cuckoo?

                (translation by Lewis Mackenzie, p. 79)

 

        寝返りをするぞそこのけきりぎりす
        negaeri wo suru zo soko noke kirigirisu

 

        Look out!

        I’m going to turn now—

        Move over, Cricket!

                (translation by Lewis Mackenzie, p. 91; Lanoue translates kirigirisu as “katydid”)

 

        雀の子そこのけそこのけ御馬が通る
        suzume no ko soko noke soko noke o-uma ga tōru

 

        baby sparrows

        move aside!

        Sir Horse passes

 

        As a new father myself, I now relate more intimately to many of Issa’s poems about his children, such as the following two haiku, the second of which is one of my most favourite of all Japanese haiku for how it captures the joy of childhood wonder:

 

        庭のてふ子が這へばとびはへばとぶ
        niwa no chō ko ga haeba tobi haeba tobu

 

        garden butterfly—

        the child crawls, it flies

        crawls, it flies . . .

 

        雪とけて村一ぱいの子ども哉
        yuki tokete mura ippai no kodomo kana

 

        snow melting

        the village brimming over . . .

        with children!

 

Mackenzie’s translation is as follows (p. 68):

 

        The snow thaws—

        And suddenly the whole village

        Is full of children!

 

        Here are three additional favourites, of many poems I could offer that are easy to appreciate and adore:

 

        雀子も梅に口明く念仏哉
        suzume ko mo ume ni kuchi aku nebutsu kana

 

        The little sparrows

        They open their mouths at the plum tree—

        This too is worship.

                (translation by Lewis Mackenzie, p. 55)

 

        鶯や泥足ぬぐふ梅の花
        uguisu ya doroashi nuguu ume no hana

 

        a nightingale wipes

        his muddy feet . . .

        plum blossoms

 

        世の中は地獄の上の花見哉
        yo no naka wa jigoku no ue no hanami kana

 

        in this world

        over hell . . .                                                                                                                                                           +

        viewing spring blossoms

 

        Perhaps Issa’s hard life and his attitude towards it can be summed up by the preceding poem, a recognition of hell and heaven, of pain and delight. However, let me close this appreciation of Issa and his endearing poems with the following verse that takes, perhaps oddly for him, a more neutral stance:

 

        ゆうぜんとして山を見る蛙哉
        yūzen to shite yama wo miru kawazu kana

 

        Composedly, he sits,

        Contemplating the mountains—

        The worthy frog!

                (translation by Lewis Mackenzie, p. 100)

 

        We have much to learn from Issa, that little frog, composed and worthy as he so often was.