"Only one koan matters," Ikkyu writes, "you" (p. 67). "Believe in the man facing you now" (p. 21). While meditating on a boat when he was 27, Ikkyu Sojun--also known as "Crazy Cloud" (1394-1482), was enlightened when he heard a crow call (p. 9). As a Zen Master, he was considered sort of an eccentric rake (p. 13), and he never pretended to be much else. He loved sake. He loved women. "The crow's caw was ok," he writes (p. 58), but "a woman is enlightenment" (p. 64). Ikkyu scandalized his Zen community, and his poetry will offend many readers today as well. "Look me up if you want to," he writes, "in the bar whorehouse fish market" (p. 40).

These poems are "frank, naked, sincere" (p. 15), and full of vivid imagery of "erotic renewal" (p. 13). It's enough to say for purposes of this review, Ikkyu lives "in a shack on the edge of whorehouse row" (p. 40). These are the poems of a poet who is "all there" (p. 15), and fully present on his "long pure beautiful road of pain/ and the beauty of death and no pain" (p. 24), whether he is watching his four-year-old daughter dance--"I can't break free of her" (p. 60), watching the "snow moon tangled among black flowers" (p. 39), or "shuttling between whorehouse and bar" (p. 47). Question "flattery success money," he writes (p. 22). "This city these people where I live still are impossible" (p. 30). "Sing until you have no throat then words come by themselves" (p. 55).

I'm not qualified to comment on Stephen Berg's translation of Ikkyu's poems, but I can tell you this book is certainly something to crow about!

G. Merritt

Ikkyu wrote his verses in a four line form which has been reworked into couplets by Stephen Berg. It is important to remember that these are version by Stephen Berg not careful translations from the original - as reworkings often are the most accessible translations.

Ikkyu was not a typical Zen master - the monkish disciplines of celebacy and sobriety were not in his repetoire. While this makes him an oddity, it reinforces the ideal that one who is enlightened is one who is free. This freedom (often seen as indifference or non-clinging) is voiced in this poem "Ikkyu this body isn't yours I say to myself / wherever I am I'm there". His freedom from the disciplines is shown in poems that are explicitly sexual not merely erotic. A very tame example: "don't hesitate get laid thaat's wisdom / sitting around chanting what crap".

Ikkyu is definately a poet that students or would-be students of Zen should read ... in fact, we all should read it for the sheer fun and beauty of it.

This is classic haiku from the 15th century zen master Ikkyu. Ikkyu was a headmaster at Daitokuji before renouncing the hipocritical attitudes of the monks. Ikkyu was far too hearty and robust to endure that fate. He was not afraid to toss a few obscenities into his writing. This is not your Mothers haiku. Ikkyu cussed and swore and ignored the authorities. This collection gives one a generous sampling of his haiku. This is a neglected genius that often is overlooked in favor of Basho and Ryokan. Those two are also brilliant but Ikkyu is the wild man of the group. He is Rimbaud blaspheming, Whitman yowling a barbaric yawp and Bukowksi drunk on the floor in one package. Its a great introductory collection to haiku and japanese poetry in general.

THE CRANE'S BILL : Zen Poems of China and Japan. Translated by Lucien Stryk and Takashi Ikemoto with the assistance of Taigan Takayama, Zen Master. 143 pp. New York : Grove Press, 1973 and Reprinted.

Zen poetry is one of the glories of Zen, and yet few in the West seem to care or even know about it. Though undoubtedly sincere in their efforts to understand Zen, most readers seem drawn to prose treatises or explications or analyses of one sort or another, while overlooking the fact that, as Taigan Takayama expresses it : "Zen detests conceptualization" (page xi). Tenzan Yasuda has expressed the same idea this way : "What expresses cosmic truth in the most direct and concise way - that is the heart of Zen art" (page xxxvii).

The poetry of Zen ranges all the way from the tiny seventeen-syllable haiku of a stupendous poet such as Santoka, which have been beautifully translated by John Stevens (in 'Mountain Tasting : Zen Haiku by Santoka Taneda'), through to the Zen verse treatise, of which the finest example is the Third Patriarch Seng-ts'an's 'Hsin-hsin-ming.' This poem brilliantly captures the essence of Zen in its thirty-one verses, and is a text that deserves to be far better known. Although the present book is devoted to shorter poems, an easily accessible translation of the 'Hsin-hsin-ming' will be found in D. T. Suzuki's 'Manual of Zen Buddhism' ('On Believing in Mind,' pages 76-82).

'Crane's Bill' is a collaborative effort which falls into three parts. First we are given, in a Foreword, Preface, and Introduction, 42 pages of interesting and informative material in which a very persuasive case is made for the fact that we should be reading these poems. Then follow 151 poems on enlightenment, death, and general subjects, drawn from a wide range of Chinese and Japanese writers. The book is rounded out with 48 pages of notes on the poems, though it unfortunately lacks both an index and a conversion table of the Japanized Chinese names

The translations, as might have been expected from the present team, read very well. Here is Poem 1, with my slash marks to indicate line breaks:

"The mountain slopes crawl with lumberjacks, / Axing everything in sight - / Yet crimson flowers / Burn along the stream" (page 5).

Here to provide a comment on Poem 1 is Poem 14:

"Iron will's demanded of / the student of the Way - / It's always on the mind. / Forget all - good, bad. / Suddenly it's yours" (page 10).

Compare this with first verse of the Hsin-hsin-ming, the original Chinese of which may be read as follows:

"To realize the Way is not difficult / If you'd only stop choosing; / Just let go of all of your hate, and love, / And everything will be brilliantly clear."

Do we really need to know more? If you don't believe me, here is Poem 97 from the great Japanese Zen Master Dogen (1200-1253):

"Four and fifty years / I've hung the sky with stars. / Now I leap through - / What shattering!" (page 63).

'Crane's Bill' is an extremely interesting and highly successful collaborative effort which no-one who is seriously interested in Zen can afford to overlook. Because it really is all in the poems!

This is in my top ten favorites to read and re-read. I was lucky to have actually find this book laying around, now I feel it has actually found me.

This volume, though hard to find, is worth every effort. Not to be missed are the three selections by Thomas James. Stryk's introduction is, as always, illuminating and provocative. There is no better collection on this subject

This is a nice collection of Chinese and Japanese poetry in English translation--not only haiku, but all the works are haiku-esque in their brevity and style. After an excellent introduction explaining the Zen aesthetic of suggestion rather than depiction come four sections of poetry in English translation: Chinese Poems of Enlightenment and Death; Poems of the Japanese Zen Masters; Japanese Haiku; and Shikichi Takahashi, Contemporary Japanese Master. The poems are complemented by 14 black and white reproductions of Eastern paintings also demonstating the Zen influence in which detail is suggested rather than portrayed.

One might quibble about what is missing--apparently nothing from China after the southern Sung dynasty, or about the proportions of Japanese to Chinese work, or the inclusion of so much by a single modern master. But to do so would be to miss the point, and certainly to fail to bring a Zen sensibility to the collection as a whole. And here the introduction is invaluable--not only in explaining the selection made, but more importantly discussing the sensibility required. Certainly, for many Westerners, Zen is at best inscrutable and at worst commonplace; and they may see a haiku like Onitsura's likewise: Autumn wind--/across the fields/faces. Lucien Stryk has a very nifty comparison of this haiku with a short poem of Ezra Pound's which reveals its immediacy, and suggests an approach of thought that is absolutely necessary to the understanding of this poetry. All in all, a very worthwhile product. ...

This beautiful edition gathers writings from Zen spirituality, matches them with color photos reflective of these writings, and blends in poetry for maximum impact. The result is a beautiful title suitable for gift-giving for any with an interest in Zen.

I am a great admirer of Issa's and I had great expectations when I bought "The Dumpling Field". However, I found I was quite disappointed with the translations. As far as I can judge they have great academical merits, but I find them slightly dull. The translations are very matter of fact and I miss the esprit I have come to associate with Issa. The good thing about the translations is that they are kept abstract and as short as possible, and probably they are very close to the Japanese original in content, but they lack some of the tenderness and poetry I have seen in other translations, both Swedish and English.

It shows much about Issa's sufferings, his resilience, his humility and his playfulness which are very inspiring. Issa, indeed is a great Japanese Haiku poet.

MOON ON THE WATER is like a meal with a delicious first course, while the rest is bland and tasteless. The collection starts off with some very good stories: a dying robber thinks of his father during his last moments; a delusional man spends half his waking hours in a fantasy world; a child's jealousy of his newborn brother grows; a man entertains a little girl who may or may not be his own. Most of them are short, and they have a satisfying bite to them.

After these, the book takes a different track. There are a few gems buried in the remainder, but too much of it consists of confused, disconnected ramblings. Many of them, even the straightforward ones, simply left me shaking my head. In addition, a number of stories couldn't be classified as horror even under the broadest definition, though I wouldn't have minded if they'd been better. Overall, a disappointment.

One story in this collection alone is worth the price of admission. "The Running Horse, the High White Sound" is one of the best stories I've come across in years. I won't spoil it for you, so you'll have to trust me. But it really got to me. On the other hand, there are stories that simply left me scratching my head wondering why they were even included in the book. You could skip "With Father, at the Zoo, then Home" and "FDR: A Love Story" and not even feel bad for doint it. But don't you dare skip "A Someday Movie". Buy it. I don't think you'll be sorry.

These aren't really "horror stories" per se, but tales laced with dark humor and subtle psychological horror. Castle is indeed a master of the short story; this being my first time having read him. He is adept at describing real life in everytown USA.

"If you take my Hand, My son" is one of the better stories about a son thinking about his dead father in a coma and a terrifying conclusion. Kind of like G'n'R's hit song, "Coma."

"Buckeye Jim in Egypt" is another tale that is awesome. It talks of our society, racism, and the story about a wandering man with supernatural powers.

"Moon on the Water" is the title story and is an interesting read about jazz musicians who become entwined with a rich girl with an adrenaline rush-attitude. A good story.

"Altenmoor, Where the Dogs Dance" is also an interesting read about a boy and his grandfather who know about the afterlife.

A solid collection from a great writer!!!

Shinkichi Takahashi's stormy life and spiritual journey are documented in his poetry without a single reference to "I." In early life, he was infected with the spirit of the european dada movement, and his poems reflect that wild spontaneity with surprising images and anti-linear leaps. Some poems also reflect a self-conscious Zen, trying to hit with a Rinzai Zen Master's directness but ringing almost a little preachy. Fascinating poetry thanks to Lucien Stryk, his first translator.

If you get ahold of this book, and if it doesn't elude you like a slippery fish, and if the stars are aligned in your favor, and if you are ready to cross the line and fall happily into the abyss, read it. Then throw it back so that some other poor soul can take a look (like me--I lost my out of print copy).

This book has affected my life in the most profound yet subtle way-however cheesy that sounds, I don't care. Es muy verdad. Besides, what else do you have to do...play on the computer?

Travel," says the book to the reader, "travel your mind with me. I'll be your companion finding a new way to appreciate the reading of short poetry adequate to the spiritual challenges of our time." From the early western translations of what was once imported from China and Japan, to the attempt of blending it with our own poetry 
traditions, this anthology is a step one likes to give a lot of attention. And, with the intense help of introductions by co-authors Lucien Stryk and Kevin Bailey, the acorn book of contemporary haiku seems to ask the reader some pressing questions. After telling us the historical developments of the Asian influences in Europe since the 1880s, Kevin Bailey goes on to point to Art Nouveau and Jugendstil art styles, to explain how the messages worked their roads deep into the different arts of Europe and later over to North America. It was long over-due to see a British and an American editor together to take their chance to enlarge the picture and influence of contemporary haiku. Kevin Bailey wrote, chapter 4:
" A Strange and Happy Meeting
There will always be the haiku purists. The haiku is a traditional poetic form native to Japan, and there it should and will be preserved. But when haiku and other Japanese verse forms have been mauled, digested, and regurgitated by their own poets, and cast out of polite and innocent national isolation to be preyed upon by Imagism, Symbolism, Minimalism, and hundred and one other cultural influences, the beast we're left with has had to adapt to survive. It is notable that many non-Japanese haiku magazines try to protect the haiku like some endangered animal, by giving it only a little literary space in which to roam free of the predatory attentions of mainstream poetry. This is done quite appropriately in its native land, fused as it is with Zen philosophy and culture, but it is an insult to the nature of literary evolution not to allow the form to mutate and hybridize within whatever cultural habitat it has become established."
As one strolls slowly along with all of the hundred and forty poets from twenty-five countries presented here, aren't there many of the short lines in this anthology clearly pointing in a new direction, leaving much of the dependency to the former term haiku behind them? Why don't we consider joining the bigger literary scene, which for long has integrated the form without using a Japanese term for it? This new anthology shows that western writers know how to blend the old haiku techniques with the 
poetical spirits of our short and longer western poetry forms. Our language, and here English language poetry, is by no means a toy in the hands of foreign rulers. In fact, it is one of our cultural forms of survival. The authors and the publishers of the acorn book of contemporary haiku paved the way and moved the poetry of this short form closer to mainstream poetry. With a twinkle in one eye I would like to add one more thought. Today, physicists, chemists, biologists and other scientists discover structure-building processes of self-organizing biological principles. DNS 
seems especially well working for the development of nano structures. One 
would like to state, that in poetry the writers are also "engineering down" the structures of language. Then, similarly with what we learned from mother nature and of what the scientists with their findings are reminding us, we're "engineering up" letters, syllables, and words building an artistically formed new whole, the poem. There is a bell ringing: Are the energies created by poets are soon going to get
company by scientifically developed processes? If the processes themselves will at least partly become compatible, in which way will the results differ? Are you, the reader of the acorn book of contemporary haiku  tempted to find new criteria for reading and writing short poetry? With a beautiful cover design, layout and typesetting, the publishers of the acorn book company produced a book that is a joy to look at, and they offered it for a price that is very reasonable. The over four hundred poems are neither organized alphabetically nor seasonal. But thanks to Lucien Stryk and Kevin Bailey, there is indeed a spiritual concept for the book that feels very adequate to old and new western thinking. To go ahead with a poetical principle, here are some examples taken from the book, necessarily a selection by the limitations of a reviewer, blended together. Can you imagine what kind of surprises you yourself will find holding the anthology in your hands?
Review first published in LYNX 16:1 at AHApoetry.com

With this book of translations, the importance of the contribution of Takashi Ikemoto's professional knowledge and advice becomes quite evident. The quality of Stryk's translations has obviously suffered without Ikemoto's valuable in-put. The haiku reading public deserves better than another mediocre book of Japanese haiku translations. The book was not published on the merits of the translations, but rather, on the merits of Stryk's past achievements and accomplishments. The book is heavily flawed in nearly every aspect. Lucien Stryk's translations fall far short of the previous accomplishments made in this field by other translators prior to this project and difficult undertaking. There are many technical flaws, actual errors, and omissions in this book of translations. Here are a few examples from his book to back up my accusations:

In my new robe this morning- someone else.

This is the first haiku in the book, so Stryk gets himself into deep trouble from the onset. First of all, someone else is not wearing Basho's robe. Basho has just put on the new silk robe given to him as a gift from his beloved disciple Ransetsu. This should have been footnoted, especially since it ties in with Stryk's main theme. It is the first day of spring (according to the old lunar calendar) which was celebrated as New Year's Day. It is therefore not just any morning as suggested in Stryk's translation, but a special one that haiku poets and the people of Japan have been fond of for many generations. The literal translation of the last line is: Who do I look like? Basho is being both humorous and playful, light-hearted with his disciple. It is a display of affection and Basho is saying that he feels like a new man and does not want nor expect a serious response from his haiku pupil. It is not a question at all; it's a compliment, a way of saying thanks, a way of expressing complete satisfaction and comfort!

Since Stryk decided to name the book On Love And Barley, I feel that he has a responsibility to his readership to emphasize and stress the theme of love whenever appropriate, and like the example given above, he failed to do this. Because of his neglect, there is a conspicuous lack of unity and cohesion in the overall presentation. The order of the haiku as they appear in the book seems arbitrary, as if the haiku were randomly tossed together without much fore-thought. Many of the haiku are taken out of context (haiku that were originally part of a renga or haibun). These should have been footnoted, but weren't. It seems in every possible area where Stryk could have gone wrong, he did go wrong!

Another example from the book:

Parting, straw-clutching support.

All Lucien Stryk says about this haiku in his footnote is that this haiku is another parting poem meant for Basho's friends. This book, unlike many books of Japanese haiku translations, does not include the Japanese (Romanized) versions. But the above haiku is very well known, so I took the time and looked it up. The Japanese word mugi does not mean straw. Guess what, it means barley! The word barley should definitely have been used, especially in view of the fact that the word is part of the title that Stryk assigned to the book, and he didn't use it! Shame on him! The cat/love/barley haiku previously quoted is the ONLY haiku in the book with the word barley in it. This haiku should have included the word too. It is my opinion that the love/barley theme is stronger in this haiku than it is in the cat/barley haiku if it is adequately translated and properly footnoted. The Japanese phrase chikara ni tsukamu (the second line) means more accurately than clutching, clutching convulsively or with great intensity. Basho was departing on what was to be his last journey, from the outskirts of Edo (Tokyo) on the way to his birthplace (near Ueno outside of Kyoto) three months prior to his death. Stryk's translation is ambiguous. To many readers it appears that Basho is doing the clutching and that is simply not true! He was departing from his friends on a dirt path next to a field of barley and out of an involuntary and spontaneous nervous reaction due to the intense grief of parting, his friends (not Basho) were intensely grasping the barley stalks by the pathway as they were saying their final farewells to him. Basho noticed this subtle anxiety of theirs, was deeply moved, and out of mutual love and affection for his friends and disciples, wrote the above haiku for them in their honor, thus immortalizing the tender and deeply felt emotions of their strong and close friendship. Another example:

Orchid - breathing incense into butterfly's wings.

A woman of high society by the name of Miss Butterfly (as in Madame Butterfly) owned a teahouse and requested that Basho compose a haiku for her on his return from Ise shrine. It was the custom in those days for the upper class women to perfume their clothing in the smoke of sandalwood or with other aromatics. The haiku is obviously in praise of her beauty, (not just her physical beauty, but her grace and beauty in natural surroundings or perhaps the tea-house) and once again Lucien Stryk failed to footnote this haiku that so appro-priately ties in with the book's main theme. A better translation might read something like this:

perfuming her wings in the orchid's fragrance oh beautiful butterfly!

There are many more examples that I can give where Stryk made serious omissions and errors, but in 1,000 words I cannot give any more examples. I do suggest that readers interested in good Basho haiku translations look elsewhere. At $7.96, this book is no bargain.

At a time when Milton and Dryden were producing their prolix epics, the Japanese Zen monk Basho was paring poetic language down to its very essence, managing to pack as much philosophy and metaphysics, narrative, evocation of place and custom, human behaviour and emotion in 17 syllable haikus as the Englishmen did in endless cantos. Unfortunately, the non-Japanese reader will never be able to appreciate Basho - his poetic art is such an inseparable union of form and content, that an inability to translate the former means an inability to understand the latter; while any attempt to replicate the 17-syllable structure in a completely alien language and mindset would be grotesque.

So, from the start, Lucien Stryk's admirable attempt to evoke the spirit of Basho is doomed. The reader can do other things with his translations, however. The compression of the haiku actually gives the reader a lot of freedom to construct narratives, moods and feelings from the barest hints: of the peasant monk Basho travelling throughout Japan, visiting temples; eating; meeting friends and passers-by; passing mountains, trees, seas, rivers, waterfalls, gardens; sleeping in fields or on the side of the road; looking at the moon or a butterfly; sights transformed by sounds or smells.

It probably helps if you know something about Japan and Buddhism to appreciate the allusions packed in the poetry, and Stryk's introduction (which also briefly posits Basho's aims and technique, and his position in the tradition of the genre) and notes are of some help. The movement of the poems are remarkably fluid and expansive within such narrow limits, with their hierarchies of nature, fusion of the senses and questioning of reality all cohering to create the oneness with nature that was Basho's ideal.

The overwhelming mood is one of serenity, of passive marvelling at the riches of nature, of plays of light or wind, of unexpected, tiny, revelatory details; but there is also an acknowledgement of human folly, poverty, war ('Summer grasses, all that remains of soldiers' dreams'), decay and death - Basho's deathbed poem is truly desolating.

To be honest, I was much more engaged by the sketches by Taige that accompany the text, effortlessly combining the representation of nature with abstract thought that Basho strove for in his poetry (although other reasons for my dissatisfaction seem to be more precisly located in the reader Ty Hadman's very valuable comment below).

Basho book on table-

Cezanne fruit bowl too

It's time to party