Tag: Poetry

Shinto poetry

One of the leading arbiters of poetry in early times was Fujiwara no Teika (1162-1241), a giant of Japanese verse who also compiled Hyakunin Isshu – 100 Poems by !00 Poets. Like others of his time, he saw divine purpose in poetry and was careful to distinguish between Buddhist and Shinto verse.

For Teika and his contemporaries, Japanese poetry had its origins in the Age of the Gods, with the first waka (Japanese poem) being composed by Susanoo no Mikoto. Thereafter it was held that poetry had the power to move the kami and it was closely tied to matters of ritual, proper conduct and even affairs of state. The divine power of words became codified in something called kotodana (word spirit). It’s no coincidence that the ancient word for government was matsurigoto, synonymous with religious ritual.

In Robert Huey’s The Making of Shinkokinshu (2002), the author shows that the Poetry Ministry in Heian times, known as Wakadokoro, divided poems into Buddhist and Shinto despite the syncretism of the age. The latter were given a greater sense of awe than their Buddhist equivalent, because the Japanese kami held power over life and death. This is illustrated in an anecdote about Ki no Tsurayuki, whose inspirational preface about the divine nature of poetry is discussed in an earlier Green Shinto posting here.

Once when riding through Izumi province, Tsurayuki passed by the shrine of the god Aridoshi. As it was dark he did not notice the shrine, and while passing by suddenly his horse dropped dead. Only then did he notice a torii and enquired as to which kami lived there. “Aridoshi Myojin” he was told, “who is easily offended. Perhaps you rode past mounted on your horse?”

Tsurayuki was at a loss and summoned the shrine attendant to ask for advice. However, the attendant appeared to speak with the voice of the kami. ‘Since you did not realise there was a shrine, I should forgive you. But you are highly skilled in the way of poetry, so if you can display those skills as you pass in front of me I shall revive your horse. Thus speaks the god Aridoshi Myojin.’

Tsurayuki immediately purified himself with water, composed a poem, wrote it on a slip of paper and attached it to a pillar of the shrine. He then began to pray, at which his horse revived and the attendant told him he had been forgiven. Here is the poem he wrote:

Since it was midnight.                             Amagumo no
With heavy rain clouds                            tatikasanareru
Layered thick,                                          yofa nareba
How was I to know as I passed               kami Aritohoshi
That the kami Aridoshi was there?         omofubeki kafa

In this way it can be seen that poetry in the Shinto tradition could well be a matter of life and death. Pleasing the kami would bring well-being; violating the Way of Poetry could spell death or disaster. Retired Emperor Hanazono, for instance, who became a Zen monk, wrote in the fourteenth century of a poet who had strayed from the ancient path of poetry and therefore died an unfortunate early death.

Not long afterwards Zeami Motokyo, founder of Noh, wrote that ‘All living creatures and even non-sentient beings have poetry residing within them. The sound of trees, the moving grass, the earth and sand, wind, and ever-flowing water – all of these things embody the soul of poetry. In the spring, a wind from the east makes the forest sing. The wind from the north in the fall blends with the call of insects. All of these sounds are poems in and of themselves.’ (from Takasago)

Exactly!

*********************

For more Shinto poems from the Heian period, please see here.

Poetry contests

Heian Verse and Winding-River Parties

Think of Heian-kyo (the old name for Kyoto), and what comes to mind?  Aristocratic villas, perhaps, and The Tale of Genji for sure.  Behind the images this evokes is an aesthetic called miyabi, or courtly refinement.  It affected all areas of life, from clothing to pastimes such as moon-watching.  At a time when much of Europe was mired in feudal struggle, the Heian court produced one of the world’s great cultural flowerings.

To convey their delicate feelings the aristocrats used verse as a means of expression, in particular the short poetry form known as waka.  This was based on a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable pattern (haiku was formed later by dropping the last two lines).  Topics ranged from nature appreciation through the whole gamut of love found and lost.

Of the many anthologies, the most famous are the tenth-century Kokinshu (Collection of Ancient and Modern) and the thirteenth-century Ogura Hyakunin Isshu (One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets).  The former, containing 1,111 poems in all, was the first of twenty-one imperially sanctioned collections.  In a perceptive preface by Ki no Tsurayuki, it identified the characteristics of the genre as sensitivity to nature, awareness of transience, and cultivation of harmony.

The preface built on the creed of Prince Shotoku (573-621), who had begun the country’s first constitution with the following: ‘Respect above all harmony.  Your first duty is to avoid discord.’  It was not coincidental that the Chinese characters for ‘Japan’ and ‘harmony’ had been collided into one and the same ideograph, pronounced ‘wa’.  Japan literally spelt harmony.  Tsurayuki’s genius lay in the articulation of an aesthetic to underlie this.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASince humans resonate in tune with harmony, runs his thesis, the poet can promote unity by capturing the ‘good vibrations’ in words.  These were communicated to others through sound, for waka were not simply written words but meant to be chanted out loud.  (Translated literally, waka means ‘Japanese song’ and the verse are referred to as uta, or songs.)  You could say then that the poems are a form of harmony in more ways than one.

Representative Poets
One noteworthy writer of waka was the ninth–century courtesan, Ono no Komachi.  She is known in Japan as one of the ancient world’s three great beauties (along with Cleopatra and the Chinese, Youkihi).  At her death she left behind some 80 poems, most of which speak of longing and frustration.

Komachi was apparently a lady-in-waiting, who later retired to a hermitage.  The best-known story about her tells of how she once asked a suitor to prove his sincerity by visiting from his distant home for a hundred successive nights.  He completed the journey ninety-nine times, but died on the hundredth occasion when he was caught in a snowstorm.

There is a tragic air to Komachi’s life as she plummets like Greta Garbo from pin-up to recluse, and not surprisingly the transience of beauty forms the theme of her best-known poem:

The flowers withered
Their colour faded away
While meaninglessly
I spent my days in the world
And the long rains were falling

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Another female writer of distinction is Izumi Shikibu (c. 1000), who lived in the Golden Age of Heian-kyo when The Tale of Genji and The Pillow Book were written.  Over 1,500 of her waka remain, from which it is evident she was a woman of passion with a turbulent emotional life.  She was brought up at court and married twice to middle-ranking men, but her great love is described in her Diary where she tells of an affair with Prince Atsumichi.  He installed her in his palace, but not long afterwards died in an epidemic.  Izumi was plunged into grief, and the intensity of her poems echoes down the centuries:

Yearning for you
My heart has shattered
Into a thousand pieces
But never will one particle
Of my love be lost.

A third poet of note is Saigyo (1118-90), a wandering priest who was a forerunner of Basho.  Born into the warrior class, he had a prestigious job as a bodyguard but dropped out to take orders at Shoji-ji in Katsura, south-west Kyoto.  It was here he first wrote of cherry-blossoms, a topic for which he became famous.

They disturb the peace
The crowds of people who come
To view the blossom:
Who is there to blame except
The blossoming tree itself?

Later Saigyo left the capital to base himself at Mt Koya while wandering around Japan.  He identified himself with the moon, whose passage across the sky mirrored his own solitary journeys.  At the same time its ever-changing shape was a reminder of impermanence, and its ethereal beauty suggestive of life’s pathos.  In one of his poems he movingly combined his two poetic passions by asking to die in cherry-blossom time under a full moon.  According to tradition, he did.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Capturing the Past
Every year in April Kyoto shrines offer two wonderful chances to appreciate ‘Japanese songs’ in recreations of a Heian poetry contest.  These Kyokusui no Utage (Winding–stream Parties) are held at Jonan-gu and Kamigamo Jinja, featuring elegant Heian-era robes Contestants sit by the banks of winding streams penning calligraphic verse to the sound of gagaku. Topics are set in advance, and sake cups placed in the water to float downstream.  Completion of a verse means the writer can take a drink.

Here can be seen the salient traits of the Heian nobility.  The beautiful clothing; the aesthetic care; the sensitivity to nature.  And with the winning waka being performed in song amongst the spring blossoms, one catches a sense of what Tsurayuki meant by cementing harmony between man, kami and nature.

For a brief moment of time one has a sense of having stepped out of the concrete jungle and into a realm of elegance and elevating verse.  As with Alice in Wonderland, you feel you’ve entered another dimension altogether, one where time slows down and the voice of nature can make itself heard.  Try it and who knows: you may start writing waka too.

(The article is adapted from John Dougill’s book on Kyoto: A Cultural History).

A reenactment of Heian-era poetry contests at Hiraizumi in northern Japan

© 2024 Green Shinto

Theme by Anders NorénUp ↑