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(Haiku And Tanka)
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(Haiku And Tanka)
K. Ramesh
Worldwide Circulation through Authorspress Global NetworkFirst Published in 2014
byAuthorspress
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Copyright © 2014 K. Ramesh
from pebble to pebble: (Haiku And Tanka)ISBN 978-81-7273-
DisclaimerAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may bereproduced in any form without the written permission
of K. Ramesh the author.
Printed in India at Salasar Imaging Systems, Delhi.
5
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank the editors of the following journalsand anthologies in which these poems have appeared: Presence,Frogpond, The Heron’s Nest, Mainichi Daily Haiku, Mayfly, Acorn,Wednesday Haiku (Lilliput Review), Magnapoets, Modern Haiku,Wisteria and Lynx. Other anthologies include:
1. Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years (W. W. Norton& Co., 2013)
2. The Humours of Haiku in Eagar ag David Cobb (Iron Press)
3. Evolution: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku2010.
4. Voices For The Future (Poetry Society India & The BritishCouncil)
5. Wild Flowers, New Leaves: World Haiku Anthology
6. Pegging The Wind Anthology (Red Moon Press)
7. Montage: The Haiku Foundation
I am grateful to Gabriel Rosenstock, a renowned IrishHaijin, for translating some of my haiku which appeared in myfirst collection, Soap Bubbles, published by the Red Moon Press,Virginia in 2007.
I thank Gauri of Therefore Design, Pune for helping mewith the page layout and design and Michael O hAodaha forediting my second collection of haiku titled Rogha Haiku & Tanka.
Acknowledgements are due, with thanks due to OriginalWriting, Dublin, for publishing my second collection of haiku andtanka titled Rogha Haiku and Tanka as an e-book in which all thesepoems have appeared.
7
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements / 7
Haiku / 9
Haiku in English and Irish / 91(selected from Soap Bubbles)
Tanka in English and Irish / 115
Afterword / 135
About the Translator / 139
HAIKU
11
dim light in the bus...a tiny finger countsthe stars
drift of a leaf…students pray in silencein the courtyard
12
pause in the traffic…small yellow leavescross the road
13
dew drops…a snail too onthe grass blade
14
evening calm…a red balloon driftson the beach road
15
paddy field by the rivervoice of the farmerspeaking to the bulls
16
moonlit hills….I bow to step outof the hut
17
sound of a coin...the gypsy’s monkey looksinto the bowl
dusk…drum beats in the villageon the opposite hill
18
red butterfly…a little girl switches offthe classroom fans
19
dawn moon…a truck full of water melonsenters the market
20
sunset…someone’s tent pegon the cliff
21
shadow of leavesfull moon overthe art gallery
on the terrace…my clothespin holdsthe neighbour’s shirt
22
morning rain…the long gap betweentwo sips of tea
23
cormorants….one bird watches mewatching them fly
24
long corridora red leaf stillon the red floor
25
a view of terraces…clothes sway inthe breeze
a bat…through the lit roominto the night
26
twilight sky…the fisherman castshis net
27
spring eveninga vendor goes homewith an empty basket
writing on the porchmoth’s wings touchmy hand
28
camera beside me…watching a cloudchanging shape
29
trek over…I remember the shapesof trees
30
forest walk…yellow leaves fallin different ways
kindergartenall in a rowsmall sandals
31
city museumthe emptiness ofa palanquin
32
lightning…a snail holds on tothe rim of a tub
33
skipping stones…hills in hazebeyond the lake
walking to the next villagecall of lapwings risingfrom the fields
34
her crayons…the red one smallerthan the others
35
camera in my hands…the shoulder bagso light
36
New year’s dawna praying mantis stillas I open the door
37
sound of waves ...sparks drift over the beachfrom corn vendor’s stove
38
country road...tall grass in the lightof fireflies
39
silence in the ashram...a squirrel eats each grain of ricewithout hurry
40
Gregorian chant...moonlight onthe tiled domes
monsoon rain...the sound of capsicum fryingin the oil
41
hill station...moonshine on the geometryof cottages
42
purple dawn...a little boy chantson the river bank
country road...chirp of cricketsas I wait alone for the bus
43
the glide of herons...I remove a wordfrom the haiku
44
blue sea...the shade of a dry coconuton the yellow sand
shadow of a fish ...from pebbleto pebble
45
twilit skya kestrel hovers overthe paddy field
46
sound of waves...a jogger stops to seethe fishermen leave
47
meditation over...the full moonbetween the branches
48
scent of a pain balmin the railway station...memories of my father
duskswallows fly back intothe hill temple
49
a path through the fieldsthe slow bicycle rideof a farmer
50
night show over...torch lights movetowards the dorm
51
hometown...a bull’s slow responseto a bicycle bell
52
a twitter brings meto the window …full moon
call of a rooster...I feel sleepy aftera long train journey
53
vacation over...lit windows of the dormin the distance
54
moonlit roomI wake up to the call ofa distant jackal
55
crescent moonsilhouette of a wild buffaloon the hill slope
thinking ofthe universe...between two sips
56
daybreak...mayfly wingson the cat
57
winter morning...the stray cat returnswith a wound
58
rural school...the shy smiles of childrenwaiting for the bus
Vedic chants...a heron glides to a rockin the misty lake
59
long day...the lizard’s hind legstretched too far
60
winter night. . .I pick the last grainof rice from the plate
hut in the woods..small teeth markson the toilet soap
61
evening traffic...rubber lizards for salestill on the pavement
62
emptying my bag...the pebble makes methink of the hill again
small town hospital...sound of thetypewriter
63
from the secret place...the mother dogwith her litter
64
long afternoon...here and therea butterfly’s shadow
65
morning yoga-the curve of a lizardon the wall
66
spring morning...balloons coverthe vendor’s face
67
paddy fields...a heron glides pastbent backs of women
68
rural school...a flock of duckswalk past the classroom
69
boy’s dormthe glow of a fireflyin a bottle
70
teashop table...I watch rain dropspop on the road
71
village road . . .the jingle of bullock cartsin the mist
72
sound of rainthe faded ‘e’ onthe internet cafe keyboard
73
chanting over . . .the rustle of peepal leavesin the temple
74
village in the mountains . . .a stray dog becomesour trek guide
75
village fair…insects fly round and rounda tube light
76
rustle of palm leaves...fishermen play cardsin the boat’s shade
77
clouds drift...the trail of a rain dropon a dirt covered leaf
78
carnival over...a little girl’s sandalamong footprints
crescent moon...silhouette of a wild buffaloon the hill slope
79
September morning . . .more than my thoughts,butterflies
80
lunch time...a rice grain stuck onthe crow’s beak
slight breeze...the silent spin ofwooden wind chimes
81
dawn in the city . . .in the crow’s beak a pieceof carton packing tape
82
evening calm...the sound of pencilssketching on the cliff
83
smile of the Buddha...the sculptor’sfinal touches
thin moon...the pilgrim’s belongingsin a small bag
84
lamp festival...as a witnessthe full moon
morning mist...a bird watcher changesthe lens in his camera
85
morning calm...a heron glides in the lightover the river
86
twitter…I lowerthe newspaper
87
boy’s mouth open...watching the fisheat the puffed rice
88
muezzin’s call…the touch of an evening breezeon leaves of the banyan
eating noodles on the cliff...steam mingleswith the mist
89
mountain path...raindrops drip froma wooden signpost
91
Haiku in English and Irish(Selected from Soap Bubbles)
93
curve of the water jug. . .the whole familyeating dinner
cuar an chrúsca uisce . . .an teaghlach go léirag ithe dinnéir
94
power failure…closing the bookI listen to the rain
cliseadh cumhachta –dúnaim an leabhartugaim cluas don bháisteach
95
summer evening -the red fire extinguishergets wet in the rain
tráthnóna samhraidh –an múchtóir tine deargag éirí fliuch faoin mbáisteach
96
rainy night-a tortoise eatsfrom the dog’s plate
oíche bháistí –turtar ag itheó phláta an ghadhair
97
summer morning –a snail crossesthe hopscotch lines
maidin shamhraidh –seilmide ar línte chleasna bacóide
98
sunrise. . .a tiny crab quickly avoidsthe waves
éirí gréine . . .portán bídeachtonnta á seachaint go gasta aige
99
leafless trees. . . the seavisible again
crainn loma. . . an mhuirle feiceáil arís
100
dawn breaking-between the calls oftwo cuckoos
dhá chuach ag glaoch –fáinne gegeal an lae
101
breezy afternoon—making a kite againafter many years
lá gaoithe –eitleog á déanamh arís agamt’réis mórán bliain
102
a yellow leaftouching the green oneson its way down
teagmhaíonn duilleog bhuíleis na duilleoga glasaar a slí síos
103
abandoned dog ...looking at the face ofevery pedestrian
madra tréigtheféachann san aghaidhar gach coisí
104
stars appear…the flower vendorstrings jasmine
nochtann réaltaí . . .cuireann an díoltóir bláthanna seasmainíar sreang
105
cloudy sky -a little boy imitatesthe cuckoo
spéir scamallach – buachaillínag déanamh aithrisear an gcuach
106
turning the page,I turn it back again –a little ant
casaim an leathanachcasaim ar ais arís é –seangán beag
107
dusk…chatter of frogs outsidethe teacher’s house
cróntráth –giob geab na bhfrogannaos comhair theach an mhúinteora
108
winter eveningthe newborn calfeyes everybody
tráthnóna geimhridhiniúchann an lao nuabheirthegach éinne
109
dinner time –a grain of ricefor the praying mantis
am dinnéir -gráinnín rísedon mhantais chrábhaidh
110
leaves falling...some on the boulder,some in the stream
duilleoga ag titim ...cuid acu ar an mbollán cuideile sa sruthán
111
pause in the traffic…small yellow leavescross the road
moill ar an trácht ...duilleoga beaga buí agtrasnú an bhóthair
112
paddy field by the riverthe voice of the farmerspeaking to the bulls
gort ríse cois abhannguth an fheirmeoraag labhairt leis na tairbh
113
sound of a cointhe gypsy’s monkeylooks into the bowl
cling an bhoinnféachann moncaí na giofóigeisteach sa bhabhla
Tanka in English and Irish
117
cycling onthe ring roadaround the island –company ofthe sea
ag rothaíocht liomar an gcuarbhóthartimpeall an oileáin –i gcuideachtana mara
118
dawnshares its pinkwith a winding path –I am on a traingoing to my hometown
bándeirgena maidineá roinnt le cosán camtáim ar bord traenachis m’aghaidh ar mobhaile dúchais
119
listening toa song in a languageunfamiliar to me –I only know thatit is sad
ag éisteachtle hamhrán i dteanganach eol dom –ní heol dom achgur amhrán brónach é
120
summer evening-no train to catchtwo old men chatsitting on the benchof this small station
tráthnóna samhraidh –gan súil acu le traeinbeirt sheanfhear ag cabaireachtina suí ar bhinsean stáisiúinbhig seo
121
September night –correcting papersI notice an upside downbeetle turning overon its own
oíche i mí Mheán Fómhairpáipéar scrúdaithe agam á cheartútugaim ciaróg faoi dearais í bunoscionn –á hathiompú féin arís
122
you ask me,why do you smilewhenever you see me?I smile toowhen I come upon roses
fiafraíonn tú díom,cén fáth an meangadh gáiregach uair dá bhfeiceann tú mé?bíonn meangadh gáire ormsa leisnuair a thagaimse ar rósanna
123
searching for coinsin my pocket –red seedscollected bymy little daughter
boinn airgid á lorg agami mo phóca –síolta deargaa chnuasaighm’iníon bheag
124
evening of crickets...i stand before a pictureof a swan flyingtowards mountainsin silence
tráthnóna na gcriogar ...i mo sheasamh os comhair pictiúrd’eala ag eitiltgo ciúini dtreo na sléibhte
125
walking awayafter saying byeto every one,suddenly i remember the treenow out of my sight
ag siúl liomtar éis slán a rále gach éinne,go tobann smaoiním ar an gcrannnach bhfuil radharc agam níos mó air
126
sunlight on trees –convalescing,my elderly friendasks me to put his chairby the window
solas na gréine i measc na gcrannmo sheancharaag téarnamhiarrann sé orm a chathaoir a churtaobh leis an bhfuinneog
127
town square-a little girlenters the frameas i take a snapof the pigeons
cearnóg an bhaile –tagann cailín beagisteach sa bhfrámaagus grianghraf á ghlacadh agamde na colúir
128
with a camerai walk around the laketo the other sidewhere the swans areoutside the water
siúlaim timpeall an lochaleis an gceamarago dtí an bruach thallan áit a bhfuil na healaíar an bport
129
spring afternoon-from the streamI walk back tomy camera and jacketon the meadow
tráthnóna earraigh –siúlaim liomón sruthánar ais go dtí mo cheamara is mo sheaicéadsa mhóinéar
130
the kitten and Istand silentlyat the doorwatching the darknesssettle among the trees.
mé féin is an piscíninár seasamh go ciúinsa dorasag breathnú ar an dorchadasag socrú síos i measc na gcrann
131
Mozart’s symphonyat thirty thousand feetfrom the groundi float with white cloudsaround me
siansa de chuid Mozarttriocha míle troighos cionn talúnmé ar snámh is néalta bánafaram
132
summer twilight –a girl steps outof the house wherebirds keep chirpingin a cage
cróntráth samhraidh –gabhann cailín amachas an teach ina bhfuiléiníní ag giolcadhi gcás
133
listening tothe morning news onthe radio –I keep aside twosprouted beans
135
Afterword
Gabriel Rosenstock introduces us to the work of an Indian masterof haiku and tanka, K. Ramesh, whom he has translated into Irish.
A Gentle Master
K. Ramesh works in a school in Chennai which promulgates theteachings of Jiddu Krishnamurti, the sage who taught us toquestion everything that moulds our identity, our nationality, faith,ego, all our prejudices, desires and so on. These teachings aregood grounding for haiku which has the same aim, namely tosee things anew, to see with the heart, to see clearly and, of course,in seeing the world in all its glory and in all its fragility, to developinsight and compassion:
dim light in the bus …a tiny fingercounts the stars
This is what haiku is about? Of course! Many people areunaware of the spiritual potential of haiku, the power of haikuas demonstrated by masters of the form to penetrate the mysteriesof life, indeed to engage in an interpenetration which echoesBasho’s advice to ‘go to the pine’ - to go outside of ourselvesand our dusty habitual ways of seeing and doing and reacting,and to experience pine-ness, bamboo-ness, emptiness, shorn ofall distractions. The haiku moment is a moment of peacefulcontemplation, or penetrating meditation:
136
rainy night –a tortoise eatsfrom the dog’s plate
It has often been noted that the haiku is a witness to the birthand the death of a moment and, in this regard, it is a meditativeart, if we understand meditation to mean the following, in thewords of J. Krishnamurti,
‘When thought and feeling flourish and die, meditation isthe movement beyond time. In this movement there isecstasy; in complete emptiness there is love, and with lovethere is destruction and creation’.
Do not be afraid of ecstasy. If you are open to ecstasy, you willfind this quality in many of the haiku and tanka that adorn thesepages.
Basho himself tells us that if you write half a dozen goodhaiku you are a master and I salute K. Ramesh as an Indianmaster. His work is unalloyed delight, bringing sounds, colours,atmospheric scenes and delightful, myterious moments to ourattention. Attention is the word, as Krishnamurti reminds us, asremind us he must because our attention wavers.
K. Ramesh’s pupils are, indeed, lucky to have such anattentive teacher and one who undoubtedly transmits the gift ofattentiveness to others. I love the image of the glowing firefly ina bottle in the boys’ dormitory, the luminescence and the curiosityand the joy of youth – and of haiku itself. A power break plungesthe world into darkness, causing him to close the book and listento the rain. I love the gentleness of the mood, the happyresignation and, of course, the attentiveness.
137
Basho said that these natural phenomena are our teachers,the rain, the butterflies, the moon. I love the two cuckoosannouncing the dawn. Two,yes. The ears and the eyes and all thesenses are awakened and washed by haiku as all senses are invitedto participate in the leela, the divine game of existence. Haikustarted off as a playful activity, it achieved great poetic depth andsolemnity at its height and Basho ended up where he began, withairy lightness.
It was a delight to translate these haiku into Irish, one ofthe oldest literary languages in Europe. Let haikuists talk to eachother the world over and translate each other. I look forward tothe day when haiku is properly understood and appreciated inIndia and I long to see it flourishing not only in English but inall of the rich languages of the sub-continent. Old nativelanguages that have not abandoned tradition and folklore havean intimate relationship with flora and fauna and the whole ofthe natural world, visible and invisible, which English, as theintrusive stranger, can never fully have on foreign soil.
I love the yellow leaf that brushes against green leaves inits slow descent, the farmer’s voice talking to a bull, the shadowof a fish from pebble to pebble. K. Ramesh’s world is very mucha real world but it is so shot through with gentleness that thefaraway jackal in the moonlit night does not make the flesh creep.What a gift his work is, to India and to the world!
turning the page,I turn it back again –a little ant
139
About the Translator
Gabriel Rosenstock, Poet, novelist, playwright, author/translatorof over 170 books, mostly in Irish. He taught haiku at the Schulefür Dichtung (Poetry Academy) in Vienna and Hyderabad LiteraryFestival, India. Also writes for children. Among the anthologiesin which he is represented is Best European Fiction 2012 (DalkeyArchive Press) and Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years(W. W. Norton & Co. 2013). Where Light Begins is a selectionof his haiku and The Invisible Light features haiku in Irish,English, Spanish and Japanese with work by American masterphotographer Ron Rosenstock.
