Japanese and Western Literature. Armando Martins Janeira

in ancient times, preferred a style in which the conception of the poem was clever, the loftiness of tone difficult to achieve, the diction strong, and the effect pleasing and tasteful, but he did not compose in the style of overtones and eternal beauty.

      And about the technique of composition, Fujiwara states concisely: "The art of Japanese poetry appears to be shallow but is deep, appears to be easy but is difficult."²

      More recently, Norinaga Motoori (1730-1801), in his treatment of the nature of poetry in Sekijo Shishuku-gen (Observations from Long Years of Apprenticeship to Poetry), states the source and aim of poetry: Poetry "comes only from emotion. This is because emotion is more sensitive to things." The aim of poetry is to "give expression to an awareness of poignancy of human life." ³

      This "sensibility of things" or "deep feeling in one's heart is expressed in Japanese by the word aware. Aware signifies all deep emotions, melancholy and amusement, sorrow and pleasure, love and regret. Anything which impresses the feelings strongly is aware. To write poetry is to express the feeling of aware. Quoting Tsurayuki, Motoori says, "A verse appears of itself from the aware of things and thus a master-poet is one who has the clearest understanding of aware,"⁴

      LIMITATIONS

      The limitations imposed by an aristocratic tradition brought about an inevitable complexity of technique and perfection in form. It brought also a certain monotony of subject, as the themes which the poets were allowed to treat were also limited. Bound by these two sorts of limitations, in form and in subject, Japanese poetry was condemned never to go beyond a charming simplicity of ideas, and to concentrate on power of suggestion and subtlety of expression.

      About the limitations in subject Donald. Keene writes:

      There are few poems written in burning indignation, like some of the greatest Chinese poetry, few of religious exaltation, few which touch more than vaguely on metaphysics or ethics. This list might be prolonged almost indefinitely until we are left with a very limited variety of subjects considered fit for poetry, and within that limited variety, a limited number of ways of treating them.⁵

      To a Western reader this scarcity of variety and absence of freedom appears still more limiting than it really is, because probably no Westerner will ever be able to grasp the full beauty and depth of a Japanese poem. It requires a cultural heritage of thousands of years to find resonance to certain phrases, to develop an insular inclination towards seeking for meaning, and to prolong the subtlest hint or vaguest suggestion in depth. It requires a state of absolute identity with nature that Westerners are not normally able to attain. R. H. Blyth says that "to understand, to read properly a single haiku requires years of unconscious absorption of all the culture of India, China and Japan that comes to fulfilment in these small verses."

      A Westerner finds it difficult to understand the full meaning of haiku. He probably cannot even understand why great Japanese writers today prefer Eastern to Western poetry. Soseki Natsume, the greatest of Japanese writers from Saikaku until today, says Oriental poetry "appears to me to be more palatable than Faust or Hamlet." For Soseki, the Oriental poet is the true poet; he has to attain a pure state of mind to be able to enter the realm of pure poetry. That is why, in this summit of serenity and simplicity, he can find poetry in the most ordinary things: "Basho found even the sight of a horse urinating near his pillow elegant enough to write a hokku about."

      Be this as it may, the reader from the West can only make a judgement according to his own poetic standards. And according to these, G. B. Sansom sums it up in these words: "The Japanese poetical genius is often described as incapable of sustained flights, and perhaps this is true enough as a general view."

      Lin Yutang thinks Chinese poetry also "lacks grandeur and power and richness. . . . Chinese lyrics are dainty, but never very powerful. By their terseness, narrative and descriptive passages are necessary limited in character."⁶ Still, I find a dramatic greatness in, for instance, Chang Heng's poem "The Bones of Chuang Tzu" and a splendorous grandeur in "The Szechwan Road" by Li Po.

      Japanese poetry is, by its nature, restrained and brief. Foreign readers cannot apprehend the delicate shades, the subtle touches which can be grasped only in the original. Besides, the written characters have, in the skilful choice of a good poet, their own poetic content. But if it is impossible to translate a poem perfectly, what can pass into a foreign language in a poem rich in deep feeling and thought is always enough to show the high quality of its inspiration; otherwise great poets would seldom be known outside their own language.

      The foreign reader, though admiring the noble simplicity of traditional forms, feels unsatisfied with their brevity and short range of subjects. But even the Japanese feel today the effect of these impoverishing limitations, and the proof is that their best poetry by contemporary poets follows the Western forms of expression.

      These considerations, though, should not lessen the prominent role that poetry has played in Japanese culture. As in China, poetry in Japan has taught a view of life and, through union with nature, brought comfort and. elation to the soul. Poetry enhanced that unity of knowledge, that height of wisdom which is the main characteristic of Japanese and Chinese poetry; it tends to create a synthesis and to express and envisage life as a whole.

      In Japan as well as in China, poetry has taken the role of religion: it purifies man's soul, brings him to feel the mystery and beauty of the universe, inspires him with tenderness and compassion for his fellow men and for the humble creatures of life.

      In China and Japan, poetry in classic times was intimately linked with painting, expressing itself through calligraphy, the basis of Far Eastern aesthetics. Poetry gives Oriental painting (which follows predominantly the Chinese pattern) its inner projection and its spirit,

      BASHO: HIS SYMBOLIC POETRY CONFRONTED WITH WESTERN SYMBOLISM

      Basho Matsuo (1644-94), the greatest Japanese haiku poet, has widened the range of poetry, showing a vigorous reaction against the common use made in his time of haikai, which was generally practised by the uncultured merchant class. Haikai means "comic," "lighthearted," or "free," and was used in opposition to the serious form, waka, and the linked verse, renga. Basho widened and deepened the subjects for haiku and enlarged the philosophical aspect. His religious ideas were a combination of both the Tendai philosophy and the quiet naturalism of Taoism and Zen. As is typical of Japanese, Basho put his ideals into practice in his everyday life; born a samurai, he dressed as a Zen priest when he became a haiku master and led a simple, poor life. It was common at the time for a man to adopt the tonsure when he decided to become a writer or an artist; it meant that he had decided to devote his life to art. One of the greatest successors of Basho was Issa, who was also a modest man and led the life of a farmer.

      Basho left a comparatively small poetic production. He wrote about two thousand verses, of which only one hundred, says Blyth, are really good. He wrote the best part of his work after he was forty. He used several pen names; the name Basho, which means banana tree, was taken from the tree in his hermitage at Fukagawa.

      Basho is one of the greatest world poets. The Japanese love him with deep reverence. Japanese people deem the poet and the artist worthy of particular respect, like beings apart from general humanity. Basho was a true poet, a high idealist who devoted his life to the cult of poetry. But for him poetry did not merely mean verses or literature—for him poetry was the voice of the universe; the poet was the man who could, hear in his heart the beautiful harmonies of nature's voices.

      Basho's haiku, being the highest exponent of Japanese poetry, show characteristic refined qualities. The qualities are present not in thought, but in emotion; not in eloquence, but in brief suggestion; not in abstract discourse, but in objective experience; not in detached contemplation of beauty, but in a strong feeling of reality and in the dissolution of self in nature. The attitude of humility necessary for the intimate approach to nature that brings the dissolution of the poet's personality is expressed in the titles of Basho's works: Minashi Guri (Empty Chestnut), published in 1683; Fuyu no Hi (A Winter Day), an anthology of haiku by Basho and his disciples, and the first of seven major anthologies; Kawazu Awase (Frog's Contest), Ham no Hi (Spring Day), Hisago (A Gourd), and Saru Mino (Straw Coat for Monkey).

      For