Jan 26 2018
Buson – Miles of frost
Miles of frost
by Buson
English version by Lucien Stryk and Takashi Ikemoto
Miles of frost —
on the lake
the moon’s my own.
— from Zen Poetry: Let the Spring Breeze Enter, Translated by Lucien Stryk / Translated by Takashi Ikemoto
/ Image by 4k1 /
This haiku doesn’t emphasize that pivot that startles the awareness into new insight. Instead, it offers us a pure moment of winter solitude at dusk.
Miles of frost —
This phrasing suggests not only a chilly evening, but a landscape of silence. No activity. No carts on the road. No animals scurrying in the underbrush. Nothing but untouched frost upon the land.
In the midst of this scene of chill stillness stands the implied observer — us. We stand there alone in the quiet scene, elevated as the solitary presence, wrapped in curling mist of our own breath.
And then we see the moon reflected upon the lake’s surface at twilight.
on the lake
the moon’s my own.
With no one else to witness it, the moon becomes a private gift. The moon and the observer share this moment of intimacy in the silent company of the lake.
We can, if we choose, read this in a more consciously spiritual light: The full moon is often used to suggest enlightened awareness. The lake is mind. When the surface is still, the mind has grown quiet and it reflects the serene light of the moon. The miles of frost can suggest the wider world as perceived by the senses has also been quieted through spiritual practice. In this unified state of stillness, the moon, enlightenment, becomes one’s own.
Or perhaps it is only a lake and the moon on a quiet night. Then again, perhaps the moon’s reflection whispers to us of enlightenment, whether we recognize it or not.
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| Zen Poetry: Let the Spring Breeze Enter | The Poetry of Zen: (Shambhala Library) | The Moon Over Tagoto: Selected Haiku of Buson | ||
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Buson
Japan (1716 – 1784) Timeline |
Taniguchi Buson (or Yosa Buson) was known in his day primarily as an excellent painter, but today he is often grouped with Basho and Issa as among the finest writers of haiku poetry.
He was born outside of Osaka, Japan, but lost both parents while still young. He moved to Edo (Tokyo) to study painting and haiku. He later settled in Kyoto, making a name for himself as a painter.
When we compare Buson with Basho, Buson’s haiku are more crafted than Basho’s, showing the precision of a painter’s eye.
I like very much haiku as well Buson.
Brrrrrrrrrr, just felt the frost on/within my body….:)
Thank you, Ivan.
==
The frost, the lake, the moon-
Witnessing,
Recognise,
Aware,
the unity of their
expression as a
Whole picture,
And
yet,
Every part has it’s
Own
sovereign individuality
Of expression,
Depends of the Focus…
==
Lately have met a text with similar experience.
Enjoy the Beauty in it…
“I was watching one drop form high above me, knowing somehow it would land on me. I watched it curling its energy into enough mass that it would suddenly burst from its leafy post and let gravity have its way with it. It began its descent, and I watched it fall into my eye with great relish. As it hit my eye, I immediately felt my body, such as it was in this world, become like water. It was a very strange experience, I began to dissolve, and I flowed into the river and felt myself merging into the water that flowed downstream.
I rushed by stones and boulders and smooth branches that poked out of the river like bones of trees that had long passed to a new world. I heard the sound of rushing water; I felt the movement, unburdened of any desire or will. It was utterly freeing to flow like this. To feel movement and yet no will. To be separate yet part of a whole. It was ecstasy. It was alignment.”
What a simple, reflective,beautiful haiku as the sun sets (glorious)
on this chill evening . And yes, I see the moon rising over the ice-crusted
trees and rooftops, repeating Buson’s words. Thank you, Ivan
Wow!
Thank you, Ivan
Beautiful!
Reminds me of Robert Frost’s Passing By Woods on a Snowy Evening’…
I keep returning to haiku.:)
Two more lovely haiku from Issa.
No comments.
Just stillness….
stillness–
in the depths of the lake
billowing clouds
Just by being,
I’m here —
In snow-fall.