from - The Haiku Foundation · 29 trek over … I remember the ... moonlight on the tiled domes monsoon rain... ... the sculptor’s final touches thin moon... the pilgrim’s belongings

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(Haiku And Tanka)

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(Haiku And Tanka)

K. Ramesh

Worldwide Circulation through Authorspress Global NetworkFirst Published in 2014

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Copyright © 2014 K. Ramesh

from pebble to pebble: (Haiku And Tanka)ISBN 978-81-7273-

DisclaimerAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may bereproduced in any form without the written permission

of K. Ramesh the author.

Printed in India at Salasar Imaging Systems, Delhi.

5

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the editors of the following journalsand anthologies in which these poems have appeared: Presence,Frogpond, The Heron’s Nest, Mainichi Daily Haiku, Mayfly, Acorn,Wednesday Haiku (Lilliput Review), Magnapoets, Modern Haiku,Wisteria and Lynx. Other anthologies include:

1. Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years (W. W. Norton& Co., 2013)

2. The Humours of Haiku in Eagar ag David Cobb (Iron Press)

3. Evolution: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku2010.

4. Voices For The Future (Poetry Society India & The BritishCouncil)

5. Wild Flowers, New Leaves: World Haiku Anthology

6. Pegging The Wind Anthology (Red Moon Press)

7. Montage: The Haiku Foundation

I am grateful to Gabriel Rosenstock, a renowned IrishHaijin, for translating some of my haiku which appeared in myfirst collection, Soap Bubbles, published by the Red Moon Press,Virginia in 2007.

I thank Gauri of Therefore Design, Pune for helping mewith the page layout and design and Michael O hAodaha forediting my second collection of haiku titled Rogha Haiku & Tanka.

Acknowledgements are due, with thanks due to OriginalWriting, Dublin, for publishing my second collection of haiku andtanka titled Rogha Haiku and Tanka as an e-book in which all thesepoems have appeared.

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements / 7

Haiku / 9

Haiku in English and Irish / 91(selected from Soap Bubbles)

Tanka in English and Irish / 115

Afterword / 135

About the Translator / 139

HAIKU

11

dim light in the bus...a tiny finger countsthe stars

drift of a leaf…students pray in silencein the courtyard

12

pause in the traffic…small yellow leavescross the road

13

dew drops…a snail too onthe grass blade

14

evening calm…a red balloon driftson the beach road

15

paddy field by the rivervoice of the farmerspeaking to the bulls

16

moonlit hills….I bow to step outof the hut

17

sound of a coin...the gypsy’s monkey looksinto the bowl

dusk…drum beats in the villageon the opposite hill

18

red butterfly…a little girl switches offthe classroom fans

19

dawn moon…a truck full of water melonsenters the market

20

sunset…someone’s tent pegon the cliff

21

shadow of leavesfull moon overthe art gallery

on the terrace…my clothespin holdsthe neighbour’s shirt

22

morning rain…the long gap betweentwo sips of tea

23

cormorants….one bird watches mewatching them fly

24

long corridora red leaf stillon the red floor

25

a view of terraces…clothes sway inthe breeze

a bat…through the lit roominto the night

26

twilight sky…the fisherman castshis net

27

spring eveninga vendor goes homewith an empty basket

writing on the porchmoth’s wings touchmy hand

28

camera beside me…watching a cloudchanging shape

29

trek over…I remember the shapesof trees

30

forest walk…yellow leaves fallin different ways

kindergartenall in a rowsmall sandals

31

city museumthe emptiness ofa palanquin

32

lightning…a snail holds on tothe rim of a tub

33

skipping stones…hills in hazebeyond the lake

walking to the next villagecall of lapwings risingfrom the fields

34

her crayons…the red one smallerthan the others

35

camera in my hands…the shoulder bagso light

36

New year’s dawna praying mantis stillas I open the door

37

sound of waves ...sparks drift over the beachfrom corn vendor’s stove

38

country road...tall grass in the lightof fireflies

39

silence in the ashram...a squirrel eats each grain of ricewithout hurry

40

Gregorian chant...moonlight onthe tiled domes

monsoon rain...the sound of capsicum fryingin the oil

41

hill station...moonshine on the geometryof cottages

42

purple dawn...a little boy chantson the river bank

country road...chirp of cricketsas I wait alone for the bus

43

the glide of herons...I remove a wordfrom the haiku

44

blue sea...the shade of a dry coconuton the yellow sand

shadow of a fish ...from pebbleto pebble

45

twilit skya kestrel hovers overthe paddy field

46

sound of waves...a jogger stops to seethe fishermen leave

47

meditation over...the full moonbetween the branches

48

scent of a pain balmin the railway station...memories of my father

duskswallows fly back intothe hill temple

49

a path through the fieldsthe slow bicycle rideof a farmer

50

night show over...torch lights movetowards the dorm

51

hometown...a bull’s slow responseto a bicycle bell

52

a twitter brings meto the window …full moon

call of a rooster...I feel sleepy aftera long train journey

53

vacation over...lit windows of the dormin the distance

54

moonlit roomI wake up to the call ofa distant jackal

55

crescent moonsilhouette of a wild buffaloon the hill slope

thinking ofthe universe...between two sips

56

daybreak...mayfly wingson the cat

57

winter morning...the stray cat returnswith a wound

58

rural school...the shy smiles of childrenwaiting for the bus

Vedic chants...a heron glides to a rockin the misty lake

59

long day...the lizard’s hind legstretched too far

60

winter night. . .I pick the last grainof rice from the plate

hut in the woods..small teeth markson the toilet soap

61

evening traffic...rubber lizards for salestill on the pavement

62

emptying my bag...the pebble makes methink of the hill again

small town hospital...sound of thetypewriter

63

from the secret place...the mother dogwith her litter

64

long afternoon...here and therea butterfly’s shadow

65

morning yoga-the curve of a lizardon the wall

66

spring morning...balloons coverthe vendor’s face

67

paddy fields...a heron glides pastbent backs of women

68

rural school...a flock of duckswalk past the classroom

69

boy’s dormthe glow of a fireflyin a bottle

70

teashop table...I watch rain dropspop on the road

71

village road . . .the jingle of bullock cartsin the mist

72

sound of rainthe faded ‘e’ onthe internet cafe keyboard

73

chanting over . . .the rustle of peepal leavesin the temple

74

village in the mountains . . .a stray dog becomesour trek guide

75

village fair…insects fly round and rounda tube light

76

rustle of palm leaves...fishermen play cardsin the boat’s shade

77

clouds drift...the trail of a rain dropon a dirt covered leaf

78

carnival over...a little girl’s sandalamong footprints

crescent moon...silhouette of a wild buffaloon the hill slope

79

September morning . . .more than my thoughts,butterflies

80

lunch time...a rice grain stuck onthe crow’s beak

slight breeze...the silent spin ofwooden wind chimes

81

dawn in the city . . .in the crow’s beak a pieceof carton packing tape

82

evening calm...the sound of pencilssketching on the cliff

83

smile of the Buddha...the sculptor’sfinal touches

thin moon...the pilgrim’s belongingsin a small bag

84

lamp festival...as a witnessthe full moon

morning mist...a bird watcher changesthe lens in his camera

85

morning calm...a heron glides in the lightover the river

86

twitter…I lowerthe newspaper

87

boy’s mouth open...watching the fisheat the puffed rice

88

muezzin’s call…the touch of an evening breezeon leaves of the banyan

eating noodles on the cliff...steam mingleswith the mist

89

mountain path...raindrops drip froma wooden signpost

91

Haiku in English and Irish(Selected from Soap Bubbles)

93

curve of the water jug. . .the whole familyeating dinner

cuar an chrúsca uisce . . .an teaghlach go léirag ithe dinnéir

94

power failure…closing the bookI listen to the rain

cliseadh cumhachta –dúnaim an leabhartugaim cluas don bháisteach

95

summer evening -the red fire extinguishergets wet in the rain

tráthnóna samhraidh –an múchtóir tine deargag éirí fliuch faoin mbáisteach

96

rainy night-a tortoise eatsfrom the dog’s plate

oíche bháistí –turtar ag itheó phláta an ghadhair

97

summer morning –a snail crossesthe hopscotch lines

maidin shamhraidh –seilmide ar línte chleasna bacóide

98

sunrise. . .a tiny crab quickly avoidsthe waves

éirí gréine . . .portán bídeachtonnta á seachaint go gasta aige

99

leafless trees. . . the seavisible again

crainn loma. . . an mhuirle feiceáil arís

100

dawn breaking-between the calls oftwo cuckoos

dhá chuach ag glaoch –fáinne gegeal an lae

101

breezy afternoon—making a kite againafter many years

lá gaoithe –eitleog á déanamh arís agamt’réis mórán bliain

102

a yellow leaftouching the green oneson its way down

teagmhaíonn duilleog bhuíleis na duilleoga glasaar a slí síos

103

abandoned dog ...looking at the face ofevery pedestrian

madra tréigtheféachann san aghaidhar gach coisí

104

stars appear…the flower vendorstrings jasmine

nochtann réaltaí . . .cuireann an díoltóir bláthanna seasmainíar sreang

105

cloudy sky -a little boy imitatesthe cuckoo

spéir scamallach – buachaillínag déanamh aithrisear an gcuach

106

turning the page,I turn it back again –a little ant

casaim an leathanachcasaim ar ais arís é –seangán beag

107

dusk…chatter of frogs outsidethe teacher’s house

cróntráth –giob geab na bhfrogannaos comhair theach an mhúinteora

108

winter eveningthe newborn calfeyes everybody

tráthnóna geimhridhiniúchann an lao nuabheirthegach éinne

109

dinner time –a grain of ricefor the praying mantis

am dinnéir -gráinnín rísedon mhantais chrábhaidh

110

leaves falling...some on the boulder,some in the stream

duilleoga ag titim ...cuid acu ar an mbollán cuideile sa sruthán

111

pause in the traffic…small yellow leavescross the road

moill ar an trácht ...duilleoga beaga buí agtrasnú an bhóthair

112

paddy field by the riverthe voice of the farmerspeaking to the bulls

gort ríse cois abhannguth an fheirmeoraag labhairt leis na tairbh

113

sound of a cointhe gypsy’s monkeylooks into the bowl

cling an bhoinnféachann moncaí na giofóigeisteach sa bhabhla

Tanka in English and Irish

117

cycling onthe ring roadaround the island –company ofthe sea

ag rothaíocht liomar an gcuarbhóthartimpeall an oileáin –i gcuideachtana mara

118

dawnshares its pinkwith a winding path –I am on a traingoing to my hometown

bándeirgena maidineá roinnt le cosán camtáim ar bord traenachis m’aghaidh ar mobhaile dúchais

119

listening toa song in a languageunfamiliar to me –I only know thatit is sad

ag éisteachtle hamhrán i dteanganach eol dom –ní heol dom achgur amhrán brónach é

120

summer evening-no train to catchtwo old men chatsitting on the benchof this small station

tráthnóna samhraidh –gan súil acu le traeinbeirt sheanfhear ag cabaireachtina suí ar bhinsean stáisiúinbhig seo

121

September night –correcting papersI notice an upside downbeetle turning overon its own

oíche i mí Mheán Fómhairpáipéar scrúdaithe agam á cheartútugaim ciaróg faoi dearais í bunoscionn –á hathiompú féin arís

122

you ask me,why do you smilewhenever you see me?I smile toowhen I come upon roses

fiafraíonn tú díom,cén fáth an meangadh gáiregach uair dá bhfeiceann tú mé?bíonn meangadh gáire ormsa leisnuair a thagaimse ar rósanna

123

searching for coinsin my pocket –red seedscollected bymy little daughter

boinn airgid á lorg agami mo phóca –síolta deargaa chnuasaighm’iníon bheag

124

evening of crickets...i stand before a pictureof a swan flyingtowards mountainsin silence

tráthnóna na gcriogar ...i mo sheasamh os comhair pictiúrd’eala ag eitiltgo ciúini dtreo na sléibhte

125

walking awayafter saying byeto every one,suddenly i remember the treenow out of my sight

ag siúl liomtar éis slán a rále gach éinne,go tobann smaoiním ar an gcrannnach bhfuil radharc agam níos mó air

126

sunlight on trees –convalescing,my elderly friendasks me to put his chairby the window

solas na gréine i measc na gcrannmo sheancharaag téarnamhiarrann sé orm a chathaoir a churtaobh leis an bhfuinneog

127

town square-a little girlenters the frameas i take a snapof the pigeons

cearnóg an bhaile –tagann cailín beagisteach sa bhfrámaagus grianghraf á ghlacadh agamde na colúir

128

with a camerai walk around the laketo the other sidewhere the swans areoutside the water

siúlaim timpeall an lochaleis an gceamarago dtí an bruach thallan áit a bhfuil na healaíar an bport

129

spring afternoon-from the streamI walk back tomy camera and jacketon the meadow

tráthnóna earraigh –siúlaim liomón sruthánar ais go dtí mo cheamara is mo sheaicéadsa mhóinéar

130

the kitten and Istand silentlyat the doorwatching the darknesssettle among the trees.

mé féin is an piscíninár seasamh go ciúinsa dorasag breathnú ar an dorchadasag socrú síos i measc na gcrann

131

Mozart’s symphonyat thirty thousand feetfrom the groundi float with white cloudsaround me

siansa de chuid Mozarttriocha míle troighos cionn talúnmé ar snámh is néalta bánafaram

132

summer twilight –a girl steps outof the house wherebirds keep chirpingin a cage

cróntráth samhraidh –gabhann cailín amachas an teach ina bhfuiléiníní ag giolcadhi gcás

133

listening tothe morning news onthe radio –I keep aside twosprouted beans

135

Afterword

Gabriel Rosenstock introduces us to the work of an Indian masterof haiku and tanka, K. Ramesh, whom he has translated into Irish.

A Gentle Master

K. Ramesh works in a school in Chennai which promulgates theteachings of Jiddu Krishnamurti, the sage who taught us toquestion everything that moulds our identity, our nationality, faith,ego, all our prejudices, desires and so on. These teachings aregood grounding for haiku which has the same aim, namely tosee things anew, to see with the heart, to see clearly and, of course,in seeing the world in all its glory and in all its fragility, to developinsight and compassion:

dim light in the bus …a tiny fingercounts the stars

This is what haiku is about? Of course! Many people areunaware of the spiritual potential of haiku, the power of haikuas demonstrated by masters of the form to penetrate the mysteriesof life, indeed to engage in an interpenetration which echoesBasho’s advice to ‘go to the pine’ - to go outside of ourselvesand our dusty habitual ways of seeing and doing and reacting,and to experience pine-ness, bamboo-ness, emptiness, shorn ofall distractions. The haiku moment is a moment of peacefulcontemplation, or penetrating meditation:

136

rainy night –a tortoise eatsfrom the dog’s plate

It has often been noted that the haiku is a witness to the birthand the death of a moment and, in this regard, it is a meditativeart, if we understand meditation to mean the following, in thewords of J. Krishnamurti,

‘When thought and feeling flourish and die, meditation isthe movement beyond time. In this movement there isecstasy; in complete emptiness there is love, and with lovethere is destruction and creation’.

Do not be afraid of ecstasy. If you are open to ecstasy, you willfind this quality in many of the haiku and tanka that adorn thesepages.

Basho himself tells us that if you write half a dozen goodhaiku you are a master and I salute K. Ramesh as an Indianmaster. His work is unalloyed delight, bringing sounds, colours,atmospheric scenes and delightful, myterious moments to ourattention. Attention is the word, as Krishnamurti reminds us, asremind us he must because our attention wavers.

K. Ramesh’s pupils are, indeed, lucky to have such anattentive teacher and one who undoubtedly transmits the gift ofattentiveness to others. I love the image of the glowing firefly ina bottle in the boys’ dormitory, the luminescence and the curiosityand the joy of youth – and of haiku itself. A power break plungesthe world into darkness, causing him to close the book and listento the rain. I love the gentleness of the mood, the happyresignation and, of course, the attentiveness.

137

Basho said that these natural phenomena are our teachers,the rain, the butterflies, the moon. I love the two cuckoosannouncing the dawn. Two,yes. The ears and the eyes and all thesenses are awakened and washed by haiku as all senses are invitedto participate in the leela, the divine game of existence. Haikustarted off as a playful activity, it achieved great poetic depth andsolemnity at its height and Basho ended up where he began, withairy lightness.

It was a delight to translate these haiku into Irish, one ofthe oldest literary languages in Europe. Let haikuists talk to eachother the world over and translate each other. I look forward tothe day when haiku is properly understood and appreciated inIndia and I long to see it flourishing not only in English but inall of the rich languages of the sub-continent. Old nativelanguages that have not abandoned tradition and folklore havean intimate relationship with flora and fauna and the whole ofthe natural world, visible and invisible, which English, as theintrusive stranger, can never fully have on foreign soil.

I love the yellow leaf that brushes against green leaves inits slow descent, the farmer’s voice talking to a bull, the shadowof a fish from pebble to pebble. K. Ramesh’s world is very mucha real world but it is so shot through with gentleness that thefaraway jackal in the moonlit night does not make the flesh creep.What a gift his work is, to India and to the world!

turning the page,I turn it back again –a little ant

139

About the Translator

Gabriel Rosenstock, Poet, novelist, playwright, author/translatorof over 170 books, mostly in Irish. He taught haiku at the Schulefür Dichtung (Poetry Academy) in Vienna and Hyderabad LiteraryFestival, India. Also writes for children. Among the anthologiesin which he is represented is Best European Fiction 2012 (DalkeyArchive Press) and Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years(W. W. Norton & Co. 2013). Where Light Begins is a selectionof his haiku and The Invisible Light features haiku in Irish,English, Spanish and Japanese with work by American masterphotographer Ron Rosenstock.