I read various introductions on the haiku form and found interesting Kenneth Yasuda: must not contain finished thought, often does not contain connecting words, contains a word designating the season, full of alliterations and internal rhymes facilitated by the fact that Japanese words are often polysyllabic -- in English we would have to use Latinized words for this; often has surprise at the end. I watched various YouTube videos of frogs jumping into ponds, listened to the sounds, closed my eyes, imagined, listened to the movie in my mind's eye.
I came up with two versions:
ploppety-plop-plop water-sound by vernal pond a frog leaping, gone
no one at the pond yet the aqueous echo of the frog leaps forth
I read about frogs on Wikipedia and these were my favorite points: "Frogs are generally recognized as exceptional jumpers, and the best jumper of all vertebrates…. Some frog calls are so loud, they can be heard up to a mile away… Frogs feature prominently in folklore, fairy tales and popular culture. They tend to be portrayed as benign, ugly, clumsy, but with hidden talents…. Kermit the Frog, on the other hand, is a conscientious and disciplined character of The Muppet Show and Sesame Street; while openly friendly and greatly talented, he is often portrayed as cringing at the fanciful behavior of more flamboyant characters."
I then read the various translations and thought about the themes presented by this short haiku, and wrote two versions - these are a bit more far a field in that they do not refer to frogs or ponds... per se...
A peaceful loneliness. Door opens to movements. The commotion of the dancers.
Granny sits alone watching. Three girls burst in. Stories, butter cookies and more.
I was curious to see what Babel Fish would come up with regarding this haiku, so I looked up the Japanese characters and entered them into the translator. The response I received was: "old pond leapfrog sound of the water which is packed"
This gave me a few ideas to think about in my method translation -- "leapfrog" as opposed to a frog that leaps, and "water which is packed", a phrase that brought to mind a pond overrun with frogs, whereas before I imagined just the one. I looked up photos of ponds, single frogs, and masses of frogs.
Tired pond opens to this frog and that all pleased to plunk
I couldn't let this assignment get away without working in a game of Frogger. So I played, just a couple of times, thinking about how this technology might provide the antithesis to Basho's reflective sentiment and Aitken's Zen Buddhist commentary.
New day-glo purple highway leapfrog takes a chance tries to reach floating logs
The dozing pond roused by a callow frog ripples aloud, appalled
The line "the old pond" had me thinking funnily enough of a tired, aged pond. Robert Aitken's comment on the frog's youthful "energy and immediacy" provides a great contrast to the pond's serenity; searching Google, I found several images of smiling, seemingly joyous, cartoon frogs.
Additionally, Babel Fish translated the poem as: "The old pond and the frog sound of the water which jumps" which, to me, puts emphasis on the water's reaction to the frog's jump. This is how I came to personify the pond and the frog as an elder and youth.
I also watched youtube videos, one in particular (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UiZTrPVh81A it’s kind of lame, you are forewarned) helped me figure the word order where I was uncertain. When first reading the poem I was surprise that “frog” was not the word normally used, "kaeru," which is the same word for "return." Instead Basho used the word kawasu, a word thought to be more poetic and archaic or perhaps referring to a specific type of frog. This is interesting for a couple of reasons (that I can think of): 1. /kawa/ means river, which implies water, foreshadowing the water sound at the end of the poem 2. Not choosing kaeru, Basho may also be suggesting that no moment returns. The frog jumps into an ancient pond and we know no more of him. We are left with the sound of water, part of this ancient pond which perhaps defies time. Also, the frog is one of many "kigo," or seasonal words, in this case referring to Spring. Thinking of these things and wanting to retain some of the abstract and ambiguous quality of haiku I wrote the following:
Ancient pond of words, kawazu not kaeru, water sounds in time.
When translating this haiku I sought to maintain the simplicity of the verse while preserving what I understand to be one of the main ideas of the haiku form, which is the interplay between the last two lines: Their interdependence is essential to creating a meaning that goes beyond what an individual reading of each line would otherwise produce. In this case, Basho’s haiku plays on our concepts of time as well as cause and effect: is the frog jumping, thus making a splash, or is the frog jumping into a splash that is born by the initiation of the jump, but not able to exist until the jump is complete? Is the frog leaping into the pond or into the splash?
My insistence on preserving this device prevented me from choosing certain phrasing. The frog had to be leaping in the second line. And following that concept, the third line had to be a noun so the frog would have something to leap into. Using a verb would have interrupted the flow and in doing so I would have chosen sequencing for the reader (frog leaps/water splashes = cause/effect) instead of leaving it open. So although I was limited by syntax choices, this syntax is the very structure which allowed me to convey the ambiguity of the jump/splash sequencing.
To better understand the literal translation of the scene created in Japanese, I called a close friend who was born in Japan for an explanation of each word of the haiku. My attempt at method translation, as I sit here on a quiet Cape Cod morning overlooking a tidal river, is to imagine what it would sound like if my peace were broken by a sudden splash. I tried to talk about this poem with my husband, but he forbade me because he is terrified of frogs.
This was a very interesting assignment from the get go. When looking at different concepts of how I would translate this haiku I sought out different internet websites and even wiki. Mainly looking at frogs and water is what helped me to come up with a justification of how I wanted to think about putting this haiku in perspective.
What I tried to remember was to keep it simple yet powerful in its language. Looking at the many different forms of the haiku also helped me to see where I wanted to go with it. Basically haiku's are a from of art in which can provide for a very powerful impact in such short stanzas.
This is my translation of the Basho frog haiku:
Timeworn pond... Very serene and peaceful Out of the blue- a frog dives Ripples pulsate.
When thinking about this I wanted to see nature and the first thing that came to mind was an old pond that has been through time. Secondly, ponds are usually quite thus serene. With the frog I had to think of a way it would enter the water and I though diving would be interesting. This notion of the ripples came about because I thought of skipping a rock across water and pulsating because of the heart's rhythm.
In translating Basho’s haiku, I focused on the act of splashing. I thought about water splashing on me when water hits porcelin plates while washing them in the kitchen sink. Water splatters all over me and “that’s it!-” water splatters and scatters in masses, hence the line “scattered mass of water.”
As in the act of splashing I also thought about what are frogs known for. Those sticky specimens are known for the sounds they make and twitchy movements. And thus I came up with the following:
Frolicking specimens Scattered masses of water Of the senescent pond
There, by the old pond, a frog jumps in, entering with a splash.
My approach to this translation was to be as faithful to the original as possible. I chose to use the word "there" as a rough replacement for "ya," and "splash" as the substitute for "water's sound." And I guess I can't shake my roots as a prose writer, since the whole thing reads as one sentence. But here's my original haiku:
A stillness in Spring only disrupted by the jumping of a frog as it submerges.
Honestly, I don't think it's necessary to mention a pond -- we have a frog jumping and splashing/submerging itself, so there's already an implied pond/body of water. Instead, I focused on the season (Spring, thanks to Aitken's commentary) and the more important act of the frog jumping and immersing itself in water.
When I translated this haiku, I wanted to focus on the texture of the water after the frog had jumped in. So here's what I came up with:
Still pond: a frog leaps in -- splash! Look at the water rings...
My attempt at method translation was a childhood memory. I'd often spend weekends in our family's farm. The night was filled with the sounds of the croaking frogs and we liked watching them jumping around all over the place. There was also a pond nearby and during the day, I used to walk over there and throw pebbles in the water and watch the rings forming on its surface. So in my translation, I imagined a frog jumping into that pond and how it would change the water's texture.
I chose the word "ring" because not only does it describe the image in the water as the frog leaps in, but it can also carry the connotation of sound (though I'm aware that water doesn't "ring"). Adding the ellipses was a last minute decision: “rings in the water” are impermanent, they trail off and vanish. Just like an interrupted or unfinished sentence, or a fleeting moment in our lives. So I tried to convey that sense of impermanence in the last line of my translation as well.
My method translation tries to faithfully replicate the essence of the source text. I arrived here by meditating on the process and trying to absorb myself fully in the present moment of translation. I wanted the act of translation to be a reflection of my total absorption into the universe.
A timeless pond and an eager frog make a sound
I think that the addition of the word "timeless" reveals a circular, infinite nature to this revelation. I thought a lot about how hard generation after generation (now us) works to keep this haiku fresh.
I also wanted to try my hand at a more playful translation that might lend more meaning to a contemporary psyche:
sleeping machine press the on button hummmmmm
My "hhummmmmm" is meant to be the equivalent to Basho's use of onomatopoeia to evoke awakening!
I have to admit I'm somehow intimidated by all the people here and their knowledge about poetry... I have never written a poem, nor I know all the technical syllable-numbers-labeling thing people talk about. It's a shame, and of course I hope to change that during these two years...Now that I made the disclaimer, let me tell you that I was "inspired" by a few students/clients I had this past week (I teach swimming lessons on the side...), and by their hesitation to jump into both, a cold water, and a dirty pool I visited in the city...
The bottom you can't see the top you can feel she jumps through and the frog falls ill -- into the water and spills.
When doing research on this poem, I found that the original basho poem used an older word for frog, a word that has since grown outdated, and has come to be replaced with a different word altogether. I also learned about the "kireji", or cutting word, found in a haiku at the end of one of the three phrases, which should mark the end of a thought, neatly or abruptly.
So in my translation, I wanted to try to capture the antiquity of the scene, and give the poem a proper cutting word.
long ago: a still pond is bothered by a frog, the water disrupted!
Ilaria's haiku hmk.
ReplyDeleteI read various introductions on the haiku form and found interesting Kenneth Yasuda: must not contain finished thought, often does not contain connecting words, contains a word designating the season, full of alliterations and internal rhymes facilitated by the fact that Japanese words are often polysyllabic -- in English we would have to use Latinized words for this; often has surprise at the end.
I watched various YouTube videos of frogs jumping into ponds, listened to the sounds, closed my eyes, imagined, listened to the movie in my mind's eye.
I came up with two versions:
ploppety-plop-plop
water-sound by vernal pond
a frog leaping, gone
no one at the pond
yet the aqueous echo
of the frog leaps forth
I read about frogs on Wikipedia and these were my favorite points: "Frogs are generally recognized as exceptional jumpers, and the best jumper of all vertebrates…. Some frog calls are so loud, they can be heard up to a mile away… Frogs feature prominently in folklore, fairy tales and popular culture. They tend to be portrayed as benign, ugly, clumsy, but with hidden talents…. Kermit the Frog, on the other hand, is a conscientious and disciplined character of The Muppet Show and Sesame Street; while openly friendly and greatly talented, he is often portrayed as cringing at the fanciful behavior of more flamboyant characters."
ReplyDeleteI then read the various translations and thought about the themes presented by this short haiku, and wrote two versions - these are a bit more far a field in that they do not refer to frogs or ponds... per se...
A peaceful loneliness.
Door opens to movements.
The commotion of the dancers.
Granny sits alone watching.
Three girls burst in.
Stories, butter cookies and more.
I was curious to see what Babel Fish would come up with regarding this haiku, so I looked up the Japanese characters and entered them into the translator. The response I received was:
ReplyDelete"old pond leapfrog sound of the water which is packed"
This gave me a few ideas to think about in my method translation -- "leapfrog" as opposed to a frog that leaps, and "water which is packed", a phrase that brought to mind a pond overrun with frogs, whereas before I imagined just the one. I looked up photos of ponds, single frogs, and masses of frogs.
Tired pond opens
to this frog and that
all pleased to plunk
I couldn't let this assignment get away without working in a game of Frogger. So I played, just a couple of times, thinking about how this technology might provide the antithesis to Basho's reflective sentiment and Aitken's Zen Buddhist commentary.
New day-glo purple highway
leapfrog takes a chance
tries to reach floating logs
I translated the haiku as:
ReplyDeleteThe dozing pond
roused by a callow frog
ripples aloud, appalled
The line "the old pond" had me thinking funnily enough of a tired, aged pond. Robert Aitken's comment on the frog's youthful "energy and immediacy" provides a great contrast to the pond's serenity; searching Google, I found several images of smiling, seemingly joyous, cartoon frogs.
Additionally, Babel Fish translated the poem as: "The old pond and the frog sound of the water which jumps" which, to me, puts emphasis on the water's reaction to the frog's jump. This is how I came to personify the pond and the frog as an elder and youth.
I also watched youtube videos, one in particular (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UiZTrPVh81A it’s kind of lame, you are forewarned) helped me figure the word order where I was uncertain. When first reading the poem I was surprise that “frog” was not the word normally used, "kaeru," which is the same word for "return." Instead Basho used the word kawasu, a word thought to be more poetic and archaic or perhaps referring to a specific type of frog. This is interesting for a couple of reasons (that I can think of): 1. /kawa/ means river, which implies water, foreshadowing the water sound at the end of the poem 2. Not choosing kaeru, Basho may also be suggesting that no moment returns. The frog jumps into an ancient pond and we know no more of him. We are left with the sound of water, part of this ancient pond which perhaps defies time. Also, the frog is one of many "kigo," or seasonal words, in this case referring to Spring. Thinking of these things and wanting to retain some of the abstract and ambiguous quality of haiku I wrote the following:
ReplyDeleteAncient pond of words,
kawazu not kaeru,
water sounds in time.
When translating this haiku I sought to maintain the simplicity of the verse while preserving what I understand to be one of the main ideas of the haiku form, which is the interplay between the last two lines: Their interdependence is essential to creating a meaning that goes beyond what an individual reading of each line would otherwise produce. In this case, Basho’s haiku plays on our concepts of time as well as cause and effect: is the frog jumping, thus making a splash, or is the frog jumping into a splash that is born by the initiation of the jump, but not able to exist until the jump is complete? Is the frog leaping into the pond or into the splash?
ReplyDeleteMy insistence on preserving this device prevented me from choosing certain phrasing. The frog had to be leaping in the second line. And following that concept, the third line had to be a noun so the frog would have something to leap into. Using a verb would have interrupted the flow and in doing so I would have chosen sequencing for the reader (frog leaps/water splashes = cause/effect) instead of leaving it open. So although I was limited by syntax choices, this syntax is the very structure which allowed me to convey the ambiguity of the jump/splash sequencing.
To better understand the literal translation of the scene created in Japanese, I called a close friend who was born in Japan for an explanation of each word of the haiku. My attempt at method translation, as I sit here on a quiet Cape Cod morning overlooking a tidal river, is to imagine what it would sound like if my peace were broken by a sudden splash. I tried to talk about this poem with my husband, but he forbade me because he is terrified of frogs.
Sleepy old pond;
A frog leaps in
awakened water.
This was a very interesting assignment from the get go. When looking at different concepts of how I would translate this haiku I sought out different internet websites and even wiki. Mainly looking at frogs and water is what helped me to come up with a justification of how I wanted to think about putting this haiku in perspective.
ReplyDeleteWhat I tried to remember was to keep it simple yet powerful in its language. Looking at the many different forms of the haiku also helped me to see where I wanted to go with it. Basically haiku's are a from of art in which can provide for a very powerful impact in such short stanzas.
This is my translation of the Basho frog haiku:
Timeworn pond...
Very serene and peaceful
Out of the blue- a frog dives
Ripples pulsate.
When thinking about this I wanted to see nature and the first thing that came to mind was an old pond that has been through time. Secondly, ponds are usually quite thus serene. With the frog I had to think of a way it would enter the water and I though diving would be interesting. This notion of the ripples came about because I thought of skipping a rock across water and pulsating because of the heart's rhythm.
In translating Basho’s haiku, I focused on the act of splashing. I thought about water splashing on me when water hits porcelin plates while washing them in the kitchen sink. Water splatters all over me and “that’s it!-” water splatters and scatters in masses, hence the line “scattered mass of water.”
ReplyDeleteAs in the act of splashing I also thought about what are frogs known for. Those sticky specimens are known for the sounds they make and twitchy movements. And thus I came up with the following:
Frolicking specimens
Scattered masses of water
Of the senescent pond
Translated by Tatiana Alvarado
Here's my "method" haiku:
ReplyDeleteThere, by the old pond,
a frog jumps in, entering
with a splash.
My approach to this translation was to be as faithful to the original as possible. I chose to use the word "there" as a rough replacement for "ya," and "splash" as the substitute for "water's sound." And I guess I can't shake my roots as a prose writer, since the whole thing reads as one sentence. But here's my original haiku:
A stillness in Spring
only disrupted by the jumping
of a frog as it submerges.
Honestly, I don't think it's necessary to mention a pond -- we have a frog jumping and splashing/submerging itself, so there's already an implied pond/body of water. Instead, I focused on the season (Spring, thanks to Aitken's commentary) and the more important act of the frog jumping and immersing itself in water.
When I translated this haiku, I wanted to focus on the texture of the water after the frog had jumped in. So here's what I came up with:
ReplyDeleteStill pond:
a frog leaps in -- splash!
Look at the water rings...
My attempt at method translation was a childhood memory. I'd often spend weekends in our family's farm. The night was filled with the sounds of the croaking frogs and we liked watching them jumping around all over the place. There was also a pond nearby and during the day, I used to walk over there and throw pebbles in the water and watch the rings forming on its surface. So in my translation, I imagined a frog jumping into that pond and how it would change the water's texture.
I chose the word "ring" because not only does it describe the image in the water as the frog leaps in, but it can also carry the connotation of sound (though I'm aware that water doesn't "ring"). Adding the ellipses was a last minute decision: “rings in the water” are impermanent, they trail off and vanish. Just like an interrupted or unfinished sentence, or a fleeting moment in our lives. So I tried to convey that sense of impermanence in the last line of my translation as well.
My method translation tries to faithfully replicate the essence of the source text. I arrived here by meditating on the process and trying to absorb myself fully in the present moment of translation. I wanted the act of translation to be a reflection of my total absorption into the universe.
ReplyDeleteA timeless pond
and an eager frog
make a sound
I think that the addition of the word "timeless" reveals a circular, infinite nature to this revelation. I thought a lot about how hard generation after generation (now us) works to keep this haiku fresh.
I also wanted to try my hand at a more playful translation that might lend more meaning to a contemporary psyche:
sleeping machine
press the on button
hummmmmm
My "hhummmmmm" is meant to be the equivalent to Basho's use of onomatopoeia to evoke awakening!
I have to admit I'm somehow intimidated by all the people here and their knowledge about poetry... I have never written a poem, nor I know all the technical syllable-numbers-labeling thing people talk about. It's a shame, and of course I hope to change that during these two years...Now that I made the disclaimer, let me tell you that I was "inspired" by a few students/clients I had this past week (I teach swimming lessons on the side...), and by their hesitation to jump into both, a cold water, and a dirty pool I visited in the city...
ReplyDeleteThe bottom you can't see
the top you can feel
she jumps through
and the frog falls ill --
into the water and spills.
When doing research on this poem, I found that the original basho poem used an older word for frog, a word that has since grown outdated, and has come to be replaced with a different word altogether. I also learned about the "kireji", or cutting word, found in a haiku at the end of one of the three phrases, which should mark the end of a thought, neatly or abruptly.
ReplyDeleteSo in my translation, I wanted to try to capture the antiquity of the scene, and give the poem a proper cutting word.
long ago: a still pond
is bothered by a frog,
the water disrupted!