(“The lump of clay
He beats with a stick,–
He, the master of the plum-orchard.”)
There might be many people, I believe, who will wonder where in the world poetry will come in from a piece of clay beaten by a stick. But be patient, my friends. This is quite an excellent Hokku poem; here we have a scene of some old retired master of a plum-orchard now in a stroll (“And day’s at the morn; morning’s at seven,” perhaps as in Robert Browning’s song in Pippa Passes), who beats a lump of clay playfully while walking lazily. And go again to the lines of great Browning:
“God’s in His Heaven–
All’s right with the world.”
Do you still call the above Hokku nonsense? Take one more poem by Buson in the following:
“Suzushisa ya
Kanewo hanaruru
Kaneno koye.”
(“Oh, how cool–
The sound of the bell
That leaves the bell itself.”)
Some little amplification would perhaps help in understanding the beauty of the above poem; but if your sensitive ears can differentiate the sounds of a bell in the daytime and during the
