Haiku Shape-Shifts into Sijo
Photo of Himeji Castle Moat by Diana Ewell Engel
Asian Verse, Part 2
Haiku: Himeji Moat dream—/ petal snow, a hushed greeting./ My weary mind rests./ -Diana Ewell Engel Sijo: Himeji Garden moss glows, deepens my quiet passage./ Petals multiply like koi in lake rivulets. A hush descends./ From the castle, a faint echo: Samurai share strategy./ -Diana Ewell Engel
My springtime haiku is from my Himeji Castle and Gardens experience. Haiku are miniature paintings of nature reflective of a particular season. As you count the syllables of each of my lines, note that I have stayed true to the original 5-7-5 syllable three-line haiku structure.
What has been your experience with crafting haiku? Share your haiku in the Comments section.
Turning to Sijo
Today we travel from Japan to medieval Korea, the birthplace of sijo. Sijo is another three-line form of poetry. Unlike haiku, sijo lines extend to fourteen to sixteen syllables. The focus remains on creating a poem of nature imagery. However, the sijo provides room for the metaphysical and cosmological, sometimes stretching the described scene into the infinite universe. Sijo were originally composed as music to be sung with accompanying drums.
The Texas State Museum of Asian Cultures & Education Center website offers this example of a visually beautiful sijo by the 17th century Korean poet, Yun Seon Do:
You ask how many friends I have? Water and stone, bamboo and pine,/ The moon rising over the eastern hill is a joyful comrade./ Besides these five companions, what other pleasure should I ask?/ -Yun Seon Do (1587–1671)
We were stunned by the Arashiyama bamboo forest. Photo by Diana Ewell Engel
Yun Seon Do personifies water, stone, bamboo, pine, and the moon as friends who bring a sense of delight to his solitude. Additionally, we hear a satisfying symmetry in the pairings of “water and stone” and “bamboo and pine.”
Modern sijo poems as they are translated or written in English can include up to six lines with each line typically having 10 syllables at most. According to he Academy of American Poets’ glossary, there are three thematic parts to a sijo: “1) introduction to the theme, story, or idea of the poem; 2) a ‘turn’ in the poem; and 3) the ‘twist’ as the closure of the poem.”
As we consider Yun Seon Do’s sijo once more, we see this thematic pattern. He introduces his subject of friendship with nature by using the clever hook of a question to pique our curiosity: “You ask how many friends I have?” in his first line. The turn comes with the surprising personification of the moon as a “comrade” we see coming toward the poet as it rises “over the eastern hill.” His twist in the ending line is the way he questions, “what other pleasure should I ask?” which is astonishingly direct, including the surprise that he considers nature’s objects as “companions” in his human solitude. The humble, quiet, and intimate nature of this conversational sijo make it a standout example of this poetic form.
Photo by Paul Lehmanon on Unsplash
Utak’s Sijo
UTak, a Korean philosopher and poet living during the 13th and 14th centuries, used self-deprecating humor to express his frustration with aging in several sijo. Here is a witty one about spring:
2060 The spring breeze melted away the snow/ on the hills and was quickly gone without a trace/ Would that I borrowed it briefly/ to blow through my hair;/ I wish to blow away the ageing frost/ thickening behind my ears./ -UTak (1263 –1343) From The Academy of American Poets website. Also in Classical Korean Poetry: More Than 600 Verses since the 12th Century (1994).
Should life’s troubles weigh you down, read UTak! We can imagine the “ageing frost” in the final twist of his poem to be his white hair. UTak is the medieval equivalent of our modern tongue-in-cheek poet-humorist, Billy Collins. It is a joy to read verse that brings a smile and endearing when writers can cleverly make fun of themselves.
Photo by David Griffiths on Unsplash
Using One Poetic Form As A Writing Springboard For Another
Should you enjoy writing haiku, choose one of your own to morph into a sijo.
Here again is my haiku and my related sijo:
Himeji Haiku: Himeji Moat dream—/ 5 petal snow, a hushed greeting./ 7 My weary mind rests./ 5 -Diana Ewell Engel Himeji Sijo: Himeji Garden moss glows, deepens my quiet passage./ 14 Petals multiply like koi in lake rivulets. A hush descends./ 16 From the castle, a faint echo: Samurai share strategy./ 15 -Diana Ewell Engel
The differences between my haiku and my sijo go beyond the number of syllables and words: These are unique poetic forms with differing qualities.
Haiku presents a moment in nature. Think of haiku as a picture caught in one camera frame. I focused on the lovely Sakura and a particular place my family enjoyed. The choice of Himeji Castle and Gardens is a strategic one: I needed five syllables in my first line. “Himeji” provided three syllables, and it is an interesting alternately soft and short vowel-ed word “huh-meh-je” that I knew could capture the reader’s attention. This first line sets the scene and the mood. I wished to impart the softness of the cherry blossoms, a kind of pastel “dream.”
As a poet, I’ve trained my mind to think in images. The blossoms in the moat and on the moss are “snow,” a central image in my haiku and my sijo.
Photo of Himeji Castle Garden by Diana Ewell Engel
And … there is a “hush” delivered to the landscape by the snowing petals.
Finally, I needed a line of five syllables for my ending. The quiet setting became a balm to my tired mind. Our fast-paced tour of Japan was marvelous but wearing.
Poetry becomes meaningful to our readers when we include our humanity.
My simple human reaction creates the conclusion, “My wea-ry mind rests.” Note that the only two syllable word in this line is “weary.” Say aloud and listen to the words “my” “mind” “rests.” Hear how solid and satisfying one syllable words are. Similarly, with Yuon Seon Do’s “stone,” “pine,” “moon” in his sijo.
Monosyllabic words grab our readers’ attention.
Photo of Himeji Garden Waterfalls by Diana Ewell Engel
Morphing Haiku Into Sijo
Sijo, also traditionally a three-line poem, requires more from us as poets: While, like haiku, sijo paints a picture, there is also an evolution occurring. As the moment unfolds, action happens. Additionally, sijo needs a turn or twist: Most sijo present such a twist in the concluding line.
In using my haiku as a basis for my sijo, I kept the location of the Himeji Castle grounds and the quiet mood intact. I simply added more to my scene—the glowing moss, the koi in the lake. Moss in Japan represents the passing of time, thus my allusion: “deepens my quiet passage.” And so, the action of my poem begins. Not only am I passing through time, but also, in my second line, cherry petals are falling into the lake, “multiply”ing, and the orange image of koi enters the scene. Again, a “hush”ed atmosphere is present. I’m drawing upon the natural beauty I witnessed while in Japan—the cherry trees, the moss, the koi, and in my concluding line, the medieval castle comes into focus.
Brainstorm images from your experiences in nature to help you write haiku and sijo.
Photo of Himeji Castle by Diana Ewell Engel
The last line is my unexpected turn: “From the castle, a faint echo: Samurai share strategy.”
I’m transporting my reader back in time, to the Warring States Period in Japan when the castle was in use, imagining the local samurai sharing strategy about how to defend castle battlements from enemies. Here, I’m quietly passing into history, the allusion in my beginning line.
Writing a sijo provides poets with elbow room, the space for more words, pauses, sentences. Natural pauses within the middle of a line are expected. Notice that each line of my sijo incorporates pauses signaled by a comma in the first line, two sentences in the second, and a comma and colon in the final line. Stick to the traditional sijo syllable requirements of 14 to 16 syllables per line.
Take pleasure in the opportunity to expand the poetic picture you are painting!
Photo by Carli Jeen on Unsplash