Katrina Naomi (UK)

2020年03月07日

I travelled briefly to Kyoto to meet Hiroshi Taniuchi and the poetry collective JUNPA - Japan Universal Poets Association. In many ways, JUNPA, is like a Stanza group in the UK. They meet regularly and share their poetry but they also have a publishing arm. And the two founding members Mariko Sumikura and Taniuchi (Taniuchi is one of several young members of JUNPA) have performed internationally, the latter most recently at Ledbury Poetry Festival and at an event in Cornwall run by the poet Sally Crabtree. Taniuchi posts a daily haiku in Japanese and English on facebook. He also writes free verse, see his first collection, Plus One Word to the World (JUNPA, 2011).

I walked with Taniuchi to JUNPA's meeting place via a fabulous indoor market, it reminded me of Brixton's c. 1990. JUNPA meet in an Edo period (17th century) house - all tatami mats, paper walls and sliding doors, looking onto a small square of garden with stunted, if not quite bonsai, trees. After the all-important greetings, tea and delicious mochi cakes, which I'm delighted to report are generally vegan, everyone settled down to write haiku. I'm used to a lot of staring out the window when I write. Here, people seemed to dash off a haiku while I was still opening my notebook or munching another mochi. I felt very inadept, the only haiku I could read out by the time everyone else had written several was one I'd written the previous week. During my stay, I became faster at writing haiku, if only to try to keep up.

I think that in the West, we're under the impression that poetry is incredibly important in Japan. Anthony Thwaite's first line in the introduction to The Penguin Book of Japanese Verse states: 'Poetry is in a real sense a living part of the culture of Japan today.' JUNPA were very open, and with Taniuchi interpreting, I wanted to find out if this was true. So how important is poetry to the average person? Here are some of the JUNPA poets' responses: Mariko Sumikura: 'Generally, people think that poetry is difficult. On the other hand, they enjoy composing haiku, senryu.' Still, she added, 'People don't respect poetry very much.' Kikumi Shimoda spoke for everyone when she said: 'It is important for me.' Taniuchi had a bleaker, more political, response: 'It is not important. It is not necessary to live on.' But as in the UK, when terrible things happen, like the bomb at the Manchester Arena, some turn to poetry. Chiyo Kitahara: 'Poetry is not so important in daily life. But after the dreadful earthquakes, I realised poetry is very important to people to share feelings, to support the sufferers.'

Is haiku still practised regularly or is it seen as old fashioned? Kitahara represented most of the poets in JUNPA when she said: 'It is rather contemporary, I think. Haiku never falls out of use because of its simple rule.' Chiaki Hamada added: 'Haiku is a lively style for people.'

And what about free verse? Here there were some differences of opinion. Kitahara said that it was not 'paid full attention' because people found it 'subtle' but she was glad its popularity was rising. And for Kazuhiko: 'It is not possible to express poetry except via free verse.'

Is poetry considered elitist? Most, like Kitahara, said that poetry wasn't considered important enough for that: 'Poets are not regarded as influential people.' Sumikura echoed this: 'People do not respect [poetry] very much.'

'Life counselling' sessions aside, there seems to be more similarities than differences between poetry in Japan and in the UK. After the JUNPA readings, we went for a meal and I was asked about Brexit and why we were doing this. We agreed, we needed more internationalism, not less. I went away with JUNPA's suggestions of poets I should read: Takashi Arima, Hakushu Kitahara, Misuzu Kaneko, Michio Mado, Kaoru Maruyama, Kenji Miyazawa, Etsuo Muka, Hosak Ozaki and Kazue Shinkawa.

There's a real vibrancy to poetry in Japan. As Taniuchi put it: 'One part of poetry shows pop culture, one part of poetry has a colour of underground culture.'

Japan has marked me. Not just for its poetry, sake, natto, karaoke booths, Godzilla films, sumo, mountains, stationery shops and Edo period screens, but for the warmth I received from its poets. I'd love to return.

Katrina Naomi

Haiku

                      Katrina Naomi

Umbrella held high

A woman walks by a stream

Red-capped kingfisher

俳句

     カトリーナ・ナオミ

タイランチョウ

せせらぎ歩く

赤傘(かさ)の女