Saturday, April 16, 2005
hanami/haiku evening
Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending a hanami and haiku evening with some friends of mine. Hanami is the Japanese festival of viewing the cherry blossoms, when they first appear in the springtime, and is celebrated by lots of people in Japan. Traditionally people go out and sit under a cherry tree, and eat lunch or maybe drink a little sake (rice wine).
It's also celebrated, as it happens, by my friends. Their road has lots of cherry trees and this inspired them some years back to start the tradition of writing some haiku (japanese poetry) to celebrate hanami. This year I was invited to join them and i'm very glad I did. After the haikus we continued the japanese theme with excellent sushi and warm sake. According to hanami traditions we should have eaten under the cherry trees, but this being Manchester the weather was against us.
Below are some of the haikus we came up with. Most of them were inspired by what we could see and feel while sat out on the front porch looking out at the cherry trees in the street:
Pink blossoms reach down,
Green Willow reaches up shoots,
Entwines dark branches.
The Manchester spring sky,
Is no longer so sooty,
But still pink on grey.
Grey cold evening,
Trees ablaze with pink blossoms,
Warms heart, but not hands.
A pair of magpies,
House hunting in cherry trees;
Let’s hope they’re lucky.
One earlier one by Suzanne was a particularly imaginative take on a similar scene:
Landlord to tenant:
Looking at blotchy grey sky,
‘That needs repainting’
Giordano got off to a good start by composing a haiku before the evening even began. In fact he wrote it on the bus, inspired by the coincidence of passing the cherry trees along Wilmslow road about a minute after first hearing about the hanami evening. It was written in Italian originally:
Per Wilmslow Road,
I ciliegi,
Poco dopo Mark ne parle.
Which translates roughly as:
Along Wilmslow Road,
The cherry trees;
Soon after Mark talks about them.
I must admit, not having had the practice that the others had, I found it tricky at first. Somewhat paradoxically, I managed to break my writers block by writing about it:
Writer writes slowly,
Stifling his own words with fear;
Self as enemy.
It has to be said, it was a cold evening:
Cold creeps into toes,
Anticipation of warmth,
Is good to savour.
But a very warm occasion in the other sense:
A taste of good wine,
A feeling of warm friendship,
Peace and happiness.
It's also celebrated, as it happens, by my friends. Their road has lots of cherry trees and this inspired them some years back to start the tradition of writing some haiku (japanese poetry) to celebrate hanami. This year I was invited to join them and i'm very glad I did. After the haikus we continued the japanese theme with excellent sushi and warm sake. According to hanami traditions we should have eaten under the cherry trees, but this being Manchester the weather was against us.
Below are some of the haikus we came up with. Most of them were inspired by what we could see and feel while sat out on the front porch looking out at the cherry trees in the street:
Pink blossoms reach down,
Green Willow reaches up shoots,
Entwines dark branches.
The Manchester spring sky,
Is no longer so sooty,
But still pink on grey.
Grey cold evening,
Trees ablaze with pink blossoms,
Warms heart, but not hands.
A pair of magpies,
House hunting in cherry trees;
Let’s hope they’re lucky.
One earlier one by Suzanne was a particularly imaginative take on a similar scene:
Landlord to tenant:
Looking at blotchy grey sky,
‘That needs repainting’
Giordano got off to a good start by composing a haiku before the evening even began. In fact he wrote it on the bus, inspired by the coincidence of passing the cherry trees along Wilmslow road about a minute after first hearing about the hanami evening. It was written in Italian originally:
Per Wilmslow Road,
I ciliegi,
Poco dopo Mark ne parle.
Which translates roughly as:
Along Wilmslow Road,
The cherry trees;
Soon after Mark talks about them.
I must admit, not having had the practice that the others had, I found it tricky at first. Somewhat paradoxically, I managed to break my writers block by writing about it:
Writer writes slowly,
Stifling his own words with fear;
Self as enemy.
It has to be said, it was a cold evening:
Cold creeps into toes,
Anticipation of warmth,
Is good to savour.
But a very warm occasion in the other sense:
A taste of good wine,
A feeling of warm friendship,
Peace and happiness.
