Learn Japanese From Masaoka Shiki
Masaoka Shiki was one of the best Japanese poets; his real name was Masaoka Tsunenori. He was born in Matsuyama, in present-day Ehime Prefecture in 1867, one year before the Meiji revolution. He belonged to a humble samurai family; his father was Masaoka Hyata, who died when he was 5 years old. While Masaoka Shiki was still a child, he began to write prose and poetry; some years later, he studied Japanese Literature and poetry in the Tokyo Imperial University. Although, he died at the early age of 35 years due to tuberculosis, Shiki composed over 25,500 haiku in his short life.
Some of his most important work is:
- Dassai sho-oku haiwa
- Haikai taiy
- Haijin buson
- Masaoka shiki shu
- Shiki zensh
- Basho zatsudan
Poem 50
ちる花に もつるゝ鳥の 翼かな 麥蒔や たばねあげたる 桑の枝 松杉や枯野の 中の不動堂 | chiru hana ni motsururu tori no tsubasa kana mugi maki ya tabane agetaru kuwa no eda matsu sugi ya kareno no naka no Fudodo | Entangled with the scattering cherry blossoms\85 the wings of birds! Wheat sowing\85 the mulberry trees lift bunched branches Pine and cypress: in a withered field, a shrine to Fudo |
Poem 93
松の葉の 細き葉毎に おく露の 千露もゆらに 玉もこぼれず 松の葉の 葉さきを細み 置く露の たまりもあへず 白玉散るも 松の葉の 葉毎にむすぶ 白露の おきてはこぼれ こぼれてはおく | matsu no ha no hosoki hagoto ni oku tsuyu no chitsuyu mo yura ni tama mo koborezu matsu no ha no hasaki o hosomi oku tsuyu no tamari mo aezu shiratama chiru mo matsu no ha no ha goto ni musubu shiratsuyu no okite wa kobore koborete wa oku | On the pine needles, each of the slender needles, a dewdrop rest\85 a thousand pearls lie quivering, yet never fall The tips of the pine needles, so thin... no sooner does the dew collect than white pearls scatter To every needle of the needled pine it clings\85 the pearl white dew, forming but to scatter, scattering but to form |
Poem 100
紅梅の 散りぬ淋しき 枕元 紅梅の 落花をつまむ 疊哉 瓶にさす 藤の花房 みじかければ たたみの上に とどかざりけり | kobai no chirinu sabishiki makura moto kobai no rakka o tsumamu tatami kana kame ni sasu fuji no hanabusa mijikakereba tatami no ue ni todokazarikeri | crimson plum blossoms scattered over the loneliness of the bed... fallen petals of the crimson plum I pluck from the tatami wisteria in the vase so short it doesn't touch the floor |
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