Haiku – Mexican Poetry

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Jose Juan Tablada ( 1871- 1945)

A poet, art critic and journalist, Tablada was one of the most fertile and questioning minds of his generation. A forerunner of modern poetry, he introduced the haiku into the Spanish language.
From Mexican Poetry An Anthology
Compiled by Octavio Paz
Translated by Samuel Beckett

*. *. *. *. *. *. *. *

Haiku of a Day

Tender willow,
almost gold, almost amber,
almost light…..
– – – – –
The garden is thick with dry leaves;
on the trees I never saw
so many green, in spring…
– – – – – – –
Restore to the bare bough,
nocturnal butterfly,
the dry leaves of your wings!
– – – – – – – – –
The brilliant moon
Working through it’s web
Keeps the spider awake.
– – – – – – –
Royal peacock, slowly fulgurant,
through the democratic barnyard
you pass like a procession….
– – – – – – – –
The bat, in the night,
essays the swallow’s flight
so as to fly by day…
– – – – – – – –
The nightingale beneath
the awe of heaven raves
its psalm to the sole star.
– – – – – – – –
Sea the black night
the cloud a shell,
the moon a pearl.
—_——————–_—
Haiku of the flowerpot

The dragon-fly strives patiently
to fasten its transparent cross
to the bare and trembling bough.
.. .. .. .. .. .. ..
Ants on inert cricket crawling.
Memory
of Gulliver in Lilliput.
.. .. .. .. .. .. ..
Mingled, in the quiet evening,
chimes of angelus and bats
and swallows fly.
.. .. .. .. .. ..
Red cold
guffaw of summer,
slice
of watermelon!
Jose Juan Tablada ( 1871- 1945)

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source: sigloxxmexicana.blogspot.com

હાઈકુ- પન્ના નાયક

આપણે કર્યા
કાજળકાળી રાતે
શબ્દના દીવા.
. . .

ઊપડે ટ્રેન-
ફરફરી ના શકે
ભીનો રૂમાલ.
– – – –

કરચલીઓ
ચહેરે ને સ્નેહ પર
પડી તે પડી.
. . . .

ગાડીને કાચ
ઝીણી ઝીણી પગલી
વાદળીઓની.
– – – –

ગોકળગાય
જેમ, વિચાર સરે
મનમાં ધીરે.
. . . . .

સ્પર્શું તમને
પાંપણની કોરથી
ભરમેળામાં.
– – – – –

છાબડીમાંનાં
પારિજાત, વીણેલાં
પરોઢ ગીતો.
. . . .

જોતી’તી ભીનાં
પગલાં ફર્શે, લૂછી
લીધાં તડકે.
– – – – –

ઝળહળતો
સોનલવર્ણો ચંપો.
આંગણું દીપે.
. . . . .

ઝાકળબિંદુ
ગુલાબપાને, કરે
નકશીકામ.
. . . . .

તડકો સૂતો
ડાળી પર, ફૂલનું
ઓશિકું કરી.
– – – – –

દેખાય કશું
ના, આંખમાં ઊભેલા
મીઠાના પ્હાડ.
. . . . .

સૂર્યકિરણ
પ્રવેશ્યું પીંછી લઇ
ભીંતો રંગાઈ.
. . . . .

પીઠી ચોળાવી
બેઠાં છે ડેફોડિલ્સ
ઘાસમંડપે.
– પન્ના નાયક ( ચેરી બ્લૉસમ્સ માંથી )

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The Essential Haiku – Issa

 

issa_the_haiku_poet-by-Hashimoto-Heihachi
Issa by Japanese artist Hashimoto Heihachi

The snow is melting
and the village is flooded
with children.
. . . . . .

Don’t worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.
. . . . . .

In this world
we walk on the roof of hell,
gazing at flowers.
. . . . . .

O owl!
make some other face.
This is spring rain.
– – – – – – –

The toad!It looks like
it could belch
a cloud.
. . . . . .

Cricket
chirping
in a scarecrow’s belly.
– – – – – –

Washing the saucepans-
the moon glows on her hand
in the shallow river.
. . . . . .

The dragonfly,
dressed in red,
off to the festival.
. . . . . . .

Autumn evening-
it’s no light thing
being born a man.
– – – – – –

The holes in the wall
play the flute
this autumn evening.
. . . . . . .

The flies in the temple
imitate the hands
of the people with prayer beads.
– – – – – – –

Mother I never knew,
every time I see the ocean,
every time-
. . . . . . .

Summer night-
even the stars
are whispering to each other.
. . . . . . .

Insects on a bough
floating downriver,
still singing.
. . . . . .

Autumn moon-
a small boat
drifting down the tide.
– – – – – –

His death poem:

A bath when you’re born,
a bath when you die,
how stupid.

Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827)
Edited and with Verse translations by Robert Hass

issa

The Essential Haiku -Buson

 

h-a-i-k-u4-18-728Coolness-
the sound of the bell
as it leaves the bell.

* * * * * * * *

White blossoms of the pear
and a woman in moonlight
reading a letter.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

Coming back-
so many pathways
through the spring grass.

: : : : : : : :

Lighting one candle
with another candle-
spring evening.

* * * * * *
Autumn evening-
there’s joy also
in loneliness.

> > > > >

The short night-
on the hairy caterpillar
beads of dew.

: : : : : : :

They swallow clouds
and spit out blossoms-
the Yoshino Mountains.

< < < < < < <

Misty grasses,
quiet waters,
it’s evening.

* * * * * *

Butterfly
sleeping
on the temple bell.

: : : : : :

Remembering how
he holed up to write all summer-
how fragrant my ink smells!

>< >< >< >< >< ><

By moonlight
the blossoming plum
is a tree in winter.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Morning breeze
riffling
the caterpillar’s hair.

* * * * * * *

Lighting the lantern-
the yellow chrysanthemums
lose their colour.

> > > > > > >

Calligraphy of geese
against the sky-
the moon seals it.

< < < < < < <

My arm for a pillow,
I really like myself
under the hazy moon.

: : : : : : :

On his deathbed:

Early spring:

In the white plum blossoms
night to next day
just turning.

– Yosa Buson (1716-1783)
-Edited with verse translation by Robert Hass

 

white horse and grooms-Yosa Buson

The Essential Haiku – Basho

Deep autumn-
my neighbour,
how does he live, I wonder?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Autumn moonlight-
a worm digs silently
into the chestnut.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

First day of spring-
I keep thinking about
the end of autumn.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Spring!
a nameless hill
in the haze.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The oak tree
not interested
in cherry blossoms

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Harvest moon-
walking around the pond
all night long.

– – – – – – – –

How admirable!
to see lightning and not think
life is fleeting.

* * * * * * * *

Good house:
sparrows out back
feasting in the millet.

. . . . . . . .

Winter solitude-
in a world of one colour
the sound of wind.

– – – – – – – – – –

The clouds
are giving these moon-watchers
a little break.

* * * * * *

The beginning of art-
a rice-planting song
in the backcountry.

– – – – – – –

You could turn this way,
I’m also lonely
this autumn evening.

. . . . . . .

Don’t imitate me;
it’s as boring
as the two halves of a melon.

— — — — — — –

A field of cotton-
as if the moon
had flowered.

–Matsuo Basho (1644-1694)
-Edited with verse translation by Robert Hass