ringo no ki ni/kakeshi hashigo ga/sora e nukeru

a ladder
put against an apple tree
goes through toward the sky

This haiku epitomizes Takako's personality. She was not content with conventional wisdom or received ideas. In her own way she sought to realize freedom of poetic expression, and if possible freedom in general. For her it was not sufficient to look upon apples merely as a symbol of autumn, fecundity or beauty. A ladder connotes ascent, but ascent to where? The top of a ladder is usually where ordinary people reach their limit. Not so with Takako.

ochi-tsubaki/ nagete danro no/hi no ue ni

fallen camellia flower...
thrown into the fireplace,
now on the fire

(Kyoshi Takahama)

Kyoshi wrote this haiku after he saw Takako throw a camellia flower into the fire. She was then a young wife of 23. A kukai gathering of haiku poets was being held in honor of Kyoshi at Rozanso, a villa of the Hashimoto family in Kokura, Kyushu. She was the hostess and, noticing the flower fall from the vase she picked it up and threw it into the fire. So impressed was she by Kyoshi's haiku that she decided to enter the world of haiku herself.

kaze no me ni/toki-taru obi ga/wadakamaru

in the eyes of someone
suffering from cold, the obi sash I have
undone lies coiled

If this haiku reminds you of the works of Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), you're on the right track. Hisajo, a rising star of the Hototogisu School, was also living in Kokura at that time and attended the aforementioned kukai. And it was Hisajo that Takako turned to, asking to be permitted to become her student. Hisajo's intense individualism appealed to Takako immensely.

kishi kishi to/obi wo maki-ori/karuru naka

amid the withered world,
I wind my obi sash round me;
swish, swish...

Like her teacher, Hisajo, Takako made the most of her being a woman in her haiku writing. In those days, most Japanese women wore kimono, which is more in tune with the spirit of haiku than, say, blue jeans. Putting the obi sash on or unwinding it from the body spoke volumes about what was going on, especially in terms of feminine beauty and sexuality.

mugi-aki ya/nyuji ni kamare-shi/chichi no kizu

wheat looking like autumn...
my breast shows a scar where
the baby bit

Mugi-aki (wheat autumn) is a kigo season word used to evoke a ripe wheat field in early summer when it looks as if it is already autumn. The ripeness of the crop doubles up with the richness of a woman's bosom. Takako adds something poignant or sobering in what is supposed to be an object of beauty.

gekko ni/inochi shi ni yuku/hito to neru

under the moonlight...
I sleep with a man who
is going to die

War, passion and love were favorite themes of Takako. Her husband died of an illness in the year when the Sino-Japanese War broke out (1937). Death was added to the list of her typical topics. The encounter with Kyoshi led Takako to go along with the Hototogisu School, which emphasized the importance of nature and man's objective relationship with it through shasei (sketches from life). Takako respected nature, but her sensibility tended to lean more toward the human condition and subjective interpretation of it. Hisajo was soon to be expelled from the School, with Takako to follow.

yuki hageshi/dakarete iki no/tsumari-shi goto

it snows hard...
being held tight I feel as if
I were choking

Some women born in the Meiji era were perhaps more passionate than our contemporaries as seen in the famous tanka poet Akiko Yosano or Masajo Suzuki. Takako did not attempt to keep her passion out of her haiku. Even so, it was still an age when women were expected to know their place.

yuki hageshi/tsuma no te no hoka/shirazu shisu

it snows hard...
I will be dying without knowing
other hands than my husband's

Takako married when she was still only 18 years old. Their marriage lasted for 20 years until her husband's death. She was a beautiful woman and must have had many admirers. However, in this haiku she is almost boasting of her faithfulness.

muna-saki ni/kuroki fuji tatsu/aki no kure

in front of my chest
the black Mt. Fuji stands...
autumn evening

Let us look more closely at her perception of nature. Apart from the religious aspects of the sacred mountain, Mt. Fuji has been worshiped as an object of beauty in all the weathers and colors nature can offer. It is therefore unusual to depict it in black, even if that may be true in the evening. To position it in connection with her own chest can also be taken as Takako's subjective attitude, though it may seem presumptuous to push one's ego in such a way in the presence of the most sacred of the sacred mountains. Takako's perception of nature is thus very different from the conventional wisdom.

tonso ni/yoki kyori hebi mo/ware mo nigu

a good distance
for running away, the snake and I
both run away

This haiku reads more like a work by a zoologist than by a poet and is full of humor. It can also be read as a caricature of opposing people threatening each other but in fact very much afraid of each other. Takako thus was more interested in the reality of things than their surface image.

tomoshibi wo/ushinai-shi ga ya/gekko wo etari-keri

the moth
that lost the light has obtained
the moonlight

Moths are attracted by light and this is where our usual understanding of them ends. Takako's power of imagination takes her further. Who would have looked at moths like this?

waga yukue/inazuma shite wa/hiraki keri

where I am going
is revealed every time
lightning occurs

This cannot be merely a physical observation. She must be talking about where she should be heading for in her life or what to do next. The lightning can be seen as a metaphor--perhaps for the hardships of life, or alternatively for life's more hopeful moments. A much more famous poem by her using lightning is more revealing:

ina-bikari/kita yori sure ba/kita wo miru

lightning...
if it occurs in the north, then,
I look north

I still cannot really make out why I think this is a brilliant haiku. When I read it many years ago for the first time it literally struck me like lightning. Something dramatic is happening here. Is Takako at a loss what to do and where to go? Is she at the mercy of the lightning, which changes its direction and shape all the time?

hiroi-taru/utsu-semi yubi ni/sugari tsuku

the cicada shell
that I have picked up now
clings to my finger

This is a familiar image for any children in Japan. The legs of the shell are intact and somehow a finger gets caught in them as we grab it. Once that happens the shell is hard to shake loose, no matter how hard you may try. It is obvious that Takako is comparing the cicada shell to something. But to what?

(Oct. 26, 2006)