Thursday, April 30, 2015

NaPoMo, April 30

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


Anonymous said...

there/ where the fire was /something blooming


Lovely poems. Thanks, Sanjuktaa.


sanjuktaa said...

Yes, I love this one, too. Santoka's poems are simply breath-taking! Thanks for the visit, Geethanjali :-)