Shiki, Dying & Autumn

[Guest guest]

with advancing autumnI am without godswithout Buddha

~Masaoka Shiki (1869 - 1902)

 

 

"Because of a debilitating disease Masaoka Shiki had to be confined to

his bed for almost 7 years until he passed away. Despite the pain, he

continued writing poems while lying on his back. When Shiki came near

to death, one of his disciples, Hekigoto was at Shiki's bedside.

Hekigoto wrote about how Shiki wrote his final three haiku as

follows.

It was around 10 o'clock on the morning of September 18.

I dipped his old writing brush ,whose stem and brush were both thin,

full of ink and had him hold it in his right hand.

Then quite abruptly in the center of the paper Shiki began to write

readily "sponge gourd has bloomed " , and a little below that phrase,

he again moved his brush in a breath "choked by phlegm"

I was a little curious what he was going to write next and was

watching the paper closely, then at last he wrote "a departed soul",

which bit into my heart.

Hekigoto was very touched when Shiki began to write the poem. Shiki

was so weak, and desperately coughing, but he still had a

determination to write these haiku.

It is said that fluid taken from a sponge gourd stem is effective in

relieving coughing. The night before there was a full-moon The fluid

collected on a full moon night was believed to be the best to clear

phlegm up. Since Shiki was really dying, Shiki's family may have been

too discouraged to collect fluid on the full-moon night. One of his

friends described that Shiki looked like a living mummy. On the next

day of his 35th birthday he fell into a coma and then on the 19th his

life came to end, while sponge gourd blossoms were in bloom in his

garden. We call the anniversary of Shiki's death "anniversary of

sponge gourd."

~Kim

 

~self-portrait by Matsaoka Shiki

 

sponge gourd has bloomed

choked by phlegm

a departed soul

 

gallons of phlegm

even the gourd water

couldn't clear it up

 

the gourd water

of the night before yesterday

they didn't get it either

 

~Masaoka Shiki's last three poems

 

 

 

"When he was twenty-two, he began coughing up blood and adopted the

pen name "Shiki", the name of a bird that, according to legend,

coughs blood as it sings. He decided to devote himself to

literature..."

the bright moon something in my breast I am alone

~Shiki, translation by Kim

~photo by Alan Larus

"Shiki called for the reform of haiku and tanka, very brief forms of

traditional poetry of seventeen and thirty-one syllables,

respectively. Haiku , in particular, focus on nature and or simple

occurrences of daily life, but the condensation required by the form

can result in great expansiveness and depth. The traditional forms ,

however, had grown trite and formulaic over the years. Shiki

recommended composition based on "Shasei" , or sketch from life, and

interjected this principle of describing life just as it is into his

prose writing, as well as his haiku and tanka. Until two days before

his death, Shiki continued writing articles, including a series under

the title "Byo-sho Rokusyaku" (A Sixfeet Sickbed), in spite of intense

suffering from the spinal TB that had afflicted him since 1895. He

died on September 19, 1902. During his brief life, Shiki attracted a

number of followers, who were influenced by and carried on his

sketch-from-life theory of literature. Through them, as well as in

his own right, he left his mark on the history of modern Japanese

literature."

 

photograph of Masaoka Shiki

 

MYSTICAL LOVE - Valerie Sumner, from Oz

 

Like a shard of light

Whispering amongst the dancing leaves

My heart aches for thee

If I could take your hands and kiss your pain

And set it free to fly amidst golden plains

I would, for you

You are the breath of Spring itself

To share your grief and pains

In golden dust of desert sands

Where age old beauty stands in time

Amongst water reeds of crystal

The fire spreads red with hope

To engulf to wrap around and take away

In Summers warm breeze

The dew hangs in webs of spiders

All life on Earth brings hope

In the Glory of Love time heals

Sorrows like mists engulf

Storm coming I hear the winds beating time

Like a huge bird the flapping wings

But also a drifting soothing loving hand

To caress the hurt and ease the pain

A friend is indeed a Gift from God.

 

Written for you- by Valerie in Australia.20.10.03

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie Cheer a special someone with a fun Halloween eCard from American Greetings!