NaPoMo, April 30

Darkness
wet with
the sound of the waves

With these lines, Santoka had me hooked. And afterwards, as I found and read more of his poems, I became totally mesmerised with his poetry.

Twilight -  the sound

of a sad letter

being dropped in a postbox

Taneda Santoka has not been accorded a place among the greatest Japanese masters,the quartet of Basho, Buson, Issa and Shiki.Yet who else but this beggar-monk poet could have written this verse?

whiteness of the rice,

red of pickled plum,

these treasures...

Nobody but Santoka could have made us listen to the rain like this:

even the sound of raindrops

has grown older

I was moved by the depth of his anguish when he wrote:

slowly, slowly
falling into ruin
my final autumn

And my seduction was complete, when I read this.

when I'm dead

and gone

rain on weeds