Through the Torii/Chapter 23
I keep my eyes unswervingly upon poetry (do you ask me what is poetry?)—if I succeed in poetry it is my only secret. It is common enough to say that, but it is least understood even among the so-called poets. To fix my sharp attention is not the only way of perceiving the object (I never think, however, of poetry as my whole object in life); but my attention is most keen when my power of inattention fully sways. You have to learn that most difficult art how to be inattentive; it is perfectly arbitrary to say that one gets his poetry at the unexpected moment. All of my practice is spent in that very inattention. When my inattention is all well developed I can keep my unswerving eye perfectly upon poetry. I say again that when I forget poetry it is the time when I am wholly with poetry. I always fail to write poetry when I think I will write it.
And when I perfectly perceive the real poetry, I never think I am before its presence; because the poetry and I are all one. At that moment, the sensations and impressions (I feel them when the high water mark is not yet attained) at once subside; and only the poetry that is the real ‘I’ remains. Indeed, to gain the true poetry is the question of one’s nerve; and I say also that you cannot have the true poetry with that nerve itself; I mean that you can have the poetry when your nerve becomes non-nerve. And you must let the poetry write itself; I mean that you must get your own true self, That is my secret if I have any.
Poetry is so interesting at least in my case, because it makes me find my own self; it is so important, because it teaches me the real proportion between me and Nature. It is so educative and edifying, because it makes me philosophical; to be philosophical is the very way to build one’s character, because it makes one gain silence, for silence is the real foundation of character.