PoBo Form Master Class Series - The Tanka

Equinoxe

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Ki no Tsurayuki said:
Poetry has its seed in the human heart and blossoms forth in innumerable leaves of words … it is poetry which, with only a part of its power, moves heaven and earth, pacifies unseen gods and demons, reconciles men and women, and calms the hearts of savage warriors.

As I may have mentioned at some point in the past, I am inordinately fond of East Asian poetry in general and tanka is one of my absolute favourite forms. So, I was more than happy to agree to participate in this series—and today the week of tanka begins. Tanka is a deceptively simple form, with many complexities beyond its simple structural requirements. The essence of tanka is a complex æsthetic rooted in Japanese culture and this makes the task of translating the form into English an extraordinarily difficult one. It is not an easy form to characterise, because many elements of it are nebulous—it is much easier to say what tanka is not than to say what it is—but I will try to give some impression of the form. This will, no doubt, be quite lengthy, but I hope that you will bear with me and find tanka as wondrous as I do.

Tanka is, of course, a Japanese form of poetry. Indeed, in many respects, it may be said to be the Japanese form of poetry. It is a particular form within the greater framework of waka, which refers to native Japanese poetry as opposed to imported Chinese poetic forms. Waka, in its earliest formal variants, like many aspects of Japanese culture, came to be relatively set in its structure in the Asuka period—this is the time in which the Japanese state had centralised around the Yamato clan (the extended Imperial Family) and contact with China and Korea began to introduce new ideas, such as Buddhism. By the Heian period (794), tanka became the quintessential Japanese poetic form amongst the nobility and Imperial Court; Imperial anthologies were compiled and it was even a custom amongst nobles to write letters to each other in tanka. The Heian period produced many of the greatest poets in Japanese history: Ono no Komachi, Lady Ise, Ariwara no Narihara, Ki no Tsurayuki, and many others. The early Kamakura period poet Fujiwara no Sadaie is traditionally considered the greatest poet of waka.

Tanka is quite simple in structure in Japanese: a line of five on (morae), followed by a line of seven on, then another five, another seven, and a final line of seven. It is, however, a difficult form to import into English in a strict way. The nature of the English and Japanese languages is quite different and, as a result, the formal requirements of Japanese poetry do not make their way into English well. This leaves the would be English tanka poet, like the would be English haiku poet, in the precarious position of having to rely on her intuitions as to how the structure should flow—or to invent various tricks to try to emulate its formal structure in Japanese. Most tanka poets in English, and most translations of tanka into English, do not concern themselves with the five-seven pattern. In fact, most tanka poets in English and most translations of tanka into English don't even really concern themselves with a pattern of long and short lines; in structure, tanka becomes simply a five line poem. There is, however, much more to tanka than that.

Fujiwara no Sadaie said:
No, first the powers of invention must be freed by reciting endless possibilities over and over to oneself. Then, suddenly, and spontaneously, from among all the lines one is composing, may emerge a poem whose treatment of the topic is different from the common run, a verse that is somehow superior to the rest. It is full of poetic feeling, lofty in cadence, skillful, with resonances above and beyond the words themselves. It is dignified in effect, its phrasing original, yet smooth and gentle. It is interesting, suffused with an atmosphere subtle yet clear. It is richly evocative, its emotion not tense and nervous but sensible from the appropriateness of the imagery. Such a poem is not to be composed by conscious effort, but if a man will only persist in unremitting practice, he may produce one spontaneously.

Tanka, as with all Japanese poetry, does not, and moreover should not, rhyme. Rhyme is considered a defect in Japanese poetry, in part because there is nearly a 1 in 5 chance that any two lines will rhyme purely by accident. Thus, rhyme is to be avoided. Much as with a number poetic forms, there is generally a shift or pivot in tanka; this usually occurs in the third line, although sometimes it occurs in the forth line. This pivot is often an element which relates two main themes of the poem—its imagery and concrete elements and the abstract elements of the poet's emotion—and in the best tanka, this pivot is seamless, with the line often working on two levels and possessing two meanings. As mentioned earlier, tanka was a courtly poetic form and not a rustic folk art: it therefore uses elevated and formal language (even by Japanese standards, and I assure you that is saying something). In Japanese, there are a host of specific images and even phrases tanka poets have used which have been cultivated with myriad cultural meanings over centuries of poetic tradition. The ideal was to use traditional thoughts and language in new ways, to internalise the accepted and refined elements of the language used, by reading tanka and practising and reciting the images over and over, so that one could be spontaneous and original within the framework of the traditional—new thoughts and emotions expressed in old language and imagery.

Tanka aims for certain specific æsthetic ideals and embraces certain intellectual concepts, such as mysteriousness (yugen), transience (sabi), and otherworldly beauty (yoen); these same æsthetic ideals are also at the heart of Noh and Japanese architecture and design, amongst many other aspects of Japanese culture and art. Love is a common theme in classical tanka, but it was usually expressed in terms of loss and longing or praise of moments. Anthropomorphism is also quite common in tanka, and it is common for the poet to adopt a façade of naïveté. It is also worth noting that Zen does not traditionally play a role in tanka (many of the art's greatest exponents lived before Zen was even introduced to Japan), although Buddhism and Buddhist ideals such as the Three Marks of Existence can be seen throughout the whole of its history.

Although tanka is a short form, it should be a fluid form, which is emotional, yet subtle, personal and yet universal, original but traditional, imaginative and symbolic, elegant, lyrical, and about humanity and nature. It is traditionally high-minded, about beautiful and noble things, formal in language, embracing of certain philosophical ideas, and aiming for specific æsthetic ideals.

Ono no Komachi said:
This body
grown fragile, floating,
a reed cut from its roots…
If a stream would ask me
to follow, I'd go, I think.
 
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Here are a number of examples by sundry poets of the past 13 centuries to help illustrate the form in a way that no explanation ever could:
Soon my life will close
When I am beyond this world
And have forgotten it,
Let me remember only this:
One final meeting with you.
– Izumi Shikibu

Even when the gods
Held sway in ancient days,
I have never heard
That water gleamed with autumn red
As it does in Tatta's stream.
– Ariwara no Narihira

Destined to fall soon
The cherry blossom
Is short lived.
Yet it makes one wait
Such a long, long time.
– Lady Ise

At the break of day,
Just as though the morning moon
Lightened the dim scene,
Yoshino's village lay
In a haze of falling snow.
– Sakanoue no Korenori

The depths of the hearts
Of humankind cannot be known.
But in my birthplace
The plum blossoms smell the same
As in the years gone by.
– Ki no Tsurayuki

The wild geese depart
Ignoring the arrival
Of the springtime haze—
Is it because they dwell
In realms were flowers never bloom?
– Lady Ise

The rooster's crowing
In the middle of the night
Deceived the hearers;
But at Osaka's gateway
The guards are never fooled.
– Sei Shonagon [ED. Author of one of my favourite (mostly) prose works.]

Meeting on the path:
But I cannot clearly know
If it was he,
Because the midnight moon
In a cloud had disappeared.
– Murasaki Shikibu [ED. That Murasaki Shikibu.]

Because there was a seed
A pine has grown even here
On these barren rocks:
If we really love our love
What can keep us from meeting?
– Anonymous, from Kokin Wakashu

Like the morning moon,
Cold, unpitying was my love.
And since we parted,
I dislike nothing so much
As the breaking light of day.
– Mibu no Tadamine

In a mountain stream
There is a wattled barrier
Built by the busy wind.
Yet it's only maple leaves
Powerless to flow away.
- Harumichi no Tsuraki

The pine tree by the rock
Must have its memories too:
After a thousand years,
See how its branches
Lean toward the ground.
– Ono no Komachi [ED. Possibly my favourite poet.]

The spring has passed
And the summer come again;
For the silk-white robes.
So they say, are spread to dry
On the "Mount of Heaven's Perfume".
– Empress Jito

Lying all alone,
Through the hours of the night,
Till the daylight comes:
Can you realise at all
The emptiness of that night?
– The Mother of Michitsuna

When the wind blows
Snowdrifting cherry blossom petals
For a while
Come brightly shining
Between my daughter and me.
– Her Imperial Majesty Empress Michiko [ED. My favourite living poet.]

Another year gone by
And still no spring warms my heart,
It's nothing to me
But now I am accustomed
To stare at the sky at dawn.
– Fujiwara no Sadaie

The flowers withered
Their colour faded away
While meaninglessly
I spent my days in the world
And the long rains were falling.
– Ono no Komachi

Unawares
The larch leaves
Have turned yellow.
So softly on them
The rain is falling.
– His Imperial Majesty The Emperor

Awaiting one whose
Path among the foothills
Has vanished, I think;
The cedar by my eaves
Is buried deep in snow.
– Fujiwara no Sadaie

Let the winds of heaven
Blow through the paths among the clouds
And close their gates.
Then for a while I could detain
These messengers in maiden form.
– Henjo (a monk)

Famous are the waves
That break on Takashi beach
In noisy arrogance.
If I should go near that shore
I would only well my sleeves.
– Lady Kii

'Twas well past noon—
The brilliant rays of the sun
Pouring into the woods,
So mottled with sunbeams were
The fallen leaves 'neath the oak trees.
– His Imperial Majesty The Emperor

Closing the window
I stood for a while
In the evening air
Steeped in the soft, tender rays
Of the new moon.
– Her Imperial Majesty Empress Michiko​
 
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Finally, a quick summary of some of the salient elements:
  • Five lines, ideally in a short, long, short, long, long pattern
  • No rhyming
  • Formal and traditional in language
  • Emotional and subjective, but related to the physical and objective
  • Often containing a pivot linking the two ideas of the poem
  • Human in perspective and in many cases relating humanity to nature, or vice versa
  • Imagistic and symbolic, often making use of metaphor (less often simile) and anthropomorphism
  • Æsthetic ideals and philosophical concepts such as mysteriousness and transience

And to help set the mood for writing tanka, may I suggest a little musical accompaniment (I make no promises that anyone will actually like it, but I do and it is wholly appropriate music):
Gakkaen
Somakusha no ha
Etenraku
Kimi ga yo
 
1st attempt...

Tree with raw, stripped bark
suffers the forest shadows.
Shielding its lost leaves,
fragile branches wavering
until wind’s refrain ceases.
 
1st Try

Inevitable
Is the setting of the sun
Upon a day's end
So is the dimly-lit passage
from fertile life to barren death​


And I do like the music...very apropos
 
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Inevitable
Is the setting of the sun
Upon a day's end
So is the dimly-lit passage
from fertile life to barren death​


And I do like the music...very apropos

Excellent (on both counts).

Gagaku is apropos (and I adore it), but it is about as alien to Western musical expectations as anything; I think the only other musical form which rivals it in that respect is Gamelan.
 
The jaguar prowls so black
the moon turns blue in the jungle
the tree wonders at the rare
appearance amidst the vines draped
over its stretching limbs to tie it there.
 
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At some point (Wednesday probably), when people have tried their hands at a few tanka and have more of a feel of the form, I would like to make this a bit more structured and have you all write an occasional poem.

The reason for this being that occasional poems are very common in the history of the form and many tanka have been written in honour of specific events and dates. For instance, the second poem by Empress Michiko that I posted earlier:
Closing the window
I stood for a while
In the evening air
Steeped in the soft, tender rays
Of the new moon.​

This poem was written to commemorate the birthday of her mother-in-law, the late Empress Kojun (who, frankly, despised her).

I have yet to decide the occasion I will ask you to compose a poem upon, but I thought it would be best for the whole idea not to be a surprise.

The jaguar prowls so black
the moon turns blue in the jungle
the tree wonders at the rare
appearance amidst the vines draped
over its stretching limbs to tie it there.

Oh, there is an interesting synthesis here between the traditional Japanese elements and a Western feel.
 
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I took to heart the advice to write a subject over and over in different words so that when the interesting phrase popped up, I grabbed it and wrote the poem. Mine was midnight blue.
 
.

Forbear the silvered grass
Anchored deep in damp, red earth
Its rolling wave.
For I see my dead husband’s hair
Swaying in this same breeze.​



.
 
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Because I am still learning too:
Sparrows flit
Amidst the last green
Summer leaves,
Inviting autumn's feeling
Into my heart and mind.​
 
bartanka







my sweater smells
of beer and smoke
and communal sweat
it went to bar with me
last night







wh
1995-12-16
 
the eternal dance
a choreography of quadrants
water, fire, earth, air
harmonious until rhythm is lost
elements: comrade and rival to man​
 
Because I am still learning too:
Sparrows flit
Amidst the last green
Summer leaves,
Inviting autumn's feeling
Into my heart and mind.​

seamless transition/double meaning. great example. thanks.

eta: i have a question about form. if you wanted to experiment with the lines, and make the order long, short, long, short, short, (keeping the elements the same)would it still be considered a tanka?
 
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seamless transition/double meaning. great example. thanks.

eta: i have a question about form. if you wanted to experiment with the lines, and make the order long, short, long, short, short, (keeping the elements the same)would it still be considered a tanka?

You're welcome (and thank you!). [I also just realised I typoed the word "seamless" in the initial post.]

It is very common in English language tanka for poets to vary the pattern of long and short lines. Considering the differences between English and Japanese and the structure of phrases, this may even make a great deal of sense. Many poets of the form in English don't even really concern themselves with the pattern of long and short lines at all, for that matter. So, I would say that yes, it would still be considered a tanka.
 
For fun

I'm still reading through the first wave of posts, but thought I would share this with the group. It's a playful thread from the AH that prolly is full of poems mistakenly thought to be tanka, but I think we have some winners in there too.*g*


:cool:
 
Failing, the old tree
droops and sags--no longer a
source of shade, quickly
becoming nothing more than
a shadow...a memory.


:cool:
 
Tree with raw, stripped bark
suffers the forest shadows.
Shielding its lost leaves,
fragile branches wavering
until wind’s refrain ceases.

Failing, the old tree
droops and sags--no longer a
source of shade, quickly
becoming nothing more than
a shadow...a memory.


:cool:

Keep your eyes on your own paper! LMAO

Remec, seriously, nice job!
 
Along a dirt path,
stems adorned with spring jewels.
Decayed trunk blocking
safety from being trampled.
Left marred among perfection.​
 
A flower blooms
Thing of wondrous beauty
Yet in dying
Brings forth promise
Of a future yet to be
 
Moon’s child
I am bathed in her beams
The tide and I
At the end of her puppeteer strings
We are magnets drawn, opposite of self

 
Fingertips brush
Like cobwebs softly wafting
Taunting the senses
Every nerve naked and alive
Her back a waiting canvas
 
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