Flowers and Plants
In this series of essay, I will discuss one of the traditional elements of haiku: the kigo. I would like to share the
view of a non-traditionalist. My focus will be on how I use a kigo when I write a haiku in English. Though many of
the samples I use will be the work of Japanese haiku poets, my main purpose is not to compare Japanese-
language haiku with English-language haiku. Also, my intention is not to tell you how you should write a haiku. I
believe in diversity and I trust the voice of a haiku poet. I hope that my approach to kigo will help you deepen your
haiku experiences. This first article is about flowers and plants. I plan to write future installments about animals
and birds, moon and wind, and holidays and observances. Comments are welcome, but I am not planning to seek
haiku submissions for my articles.
In American haiku, the linkage between nature and human has been emphasized. In most published haiku in
the United States, the poet is invisible; one remains only an observer of nature. Many American haiku poets seem
to believe that haiku should be a subdued sumi-e or a quiet still life. But haiku can be as colorful as van Gough’s
paintings or as abstract as the work of Picasso.
The core of my haiku is my emotion as a woman, as a Japanese person, and an immigrant. “Who I am” is the
essential ingredient in my haiku. To convey my feelings, I rely on a kigo. Sometimes finding the right kigo is my first
step to writing a haiku.
watakushi no hone to sakura ga mankai ni
my bones
and cherry blossoms
in full bloom
Yasuyo Ohnishi (1)
The cherry blossom is the national flower of Japan. From ancient times numerous poets have written about
them. Saigyo dreamed of dying under the cherry blossoms. Those short-lived, delicate flowers were the symbols
of Kamikaze fighters during World War II. In April, people all over Japan gather under the trees in full blossom and
have a party.
bara no sono hikikaesaneba deguchi nashi
the rose garden—
unless you retrace your steps
there’s no exit
Kiyoko Tsuda (2)
While cherry blossoms symbolize where I came from, roses represent Western culture and where I am now. I
think roses demand a lot of care. To have a gorgeous, perfect flower, one has to tend them with water, fertilizers
and pesticides. Roses are somewhat the manifestation of my borrowed culture. “Rose” itself is a summer kigo,
but I prefer to use it in a winter setting. I can put contradictory feelings or images together in this way.
winter roses—
I am tired of reading
between the lines
Fay Aoyagi (3)
“Hydrangea” is my favorite summer flower kigo. According to my Japanese saijiki, hydrangeas change their
colors after they bloom because of a substance called flavone. The most common term for “hydrangea” in
Japanese is ajisai, but it is also called shichi henge (seven changes).
ajisai ya nobore to ieru gotoki kai
hydrangeas—
the stairs seem to tell me
to climb up
Tatsuko Hoshino (4)
In Kamakura, where Tatsuko grew up, there is a temple called Hydrangea Temple, famous for its hydrangeas.
There are steep steps up to the temple from the street.
I wish I knew more about botany. Some English flower names sound very interesting and evocative; such as
Blue Witch, Indian Paintbrush, Johnny Jump-up and Solomon’s Seal.
shiragiku to ware gekkou no soko ni sayu
white chrysanthemum
and me, at the bottom of the moonlight
coldly glow
Nobuko Katsura (4)
My association with chrysanthemum is somewhat complicated. It is the flower of the Japanese royal family. A
chrysanthemum is embossed on the front cover of Japanese passports. In a way, the chrysanthemum is a husk of
the things which I left in my native country. Yet, I feel I am a chrysanthemum wherever I go, whatever I do.
One of my favorite quotes about haiku is by Takajo Mitsuhashi. She said, “writing a haiku is an act of stripping
scale from my skin. The scale which is stripped from the skin is evidence of my life.”
tsuta karete isshin ganji garame nari
ivy having died
the entire trunk
inextricably bound
Takajo Mitsuhashi (2)
In Japan, Takajo is one of “4Ts” (famous female haiku poets) along with Teijo Nakamura, Takako Hashimoto
and Tatsuko Hoshino. They were pioneers in the early twentieth century when the haiku world was dominated by
men. If a poet is a mere observer of nature, the gender of the poet may not be very important. However, if you place
yourself at the center of your haiku, who you are and how you see the world will become critical.
karekusa no hito omou toki kiniro ni
withered grass
when I think of him …
burnished gold
Masajo Suzuki (5)
Masajo Suzuki who lived a very interesting and rather dramatic life showed a different aspect of the withered
grass. She saw hope in the withered grass. In the deep winter, we will hear the approaching footsteps of the
spring.
Because I am not a nature lover, I see flowers and plants in a different way from a hiker or a gardener. It may be
a helpful exercise for you to pick four or five flowers which are meaningful to you and compose a haiku based on
why each particular flower appeals to you.
(1) Gendai no Haiku (Modern Haiku Anthology edited by Shobin Hirai, Kadokawa Shoten, 1982.
Tranlation by Fay Aoyagi
(2) Far Beyond the Field edited and translated by Makoto Ueda, Columbia University Press, 2003
(3) Unpublished
(4) Dai Saijiki (Comprehensive Saijiki) edited by Shuoshi Mizuhara, Shuson Kato, Kenkichi Yamamoto,
Kodansha, 1982. Translation by Fay Aoyagi
(5) Love Haiku: Masajo Suzuki’s Lifetime of Love, edited and translated by Emiko Miyashita and
Lee Gurga, Brooks Books, 2000.