Born in far northern Iwate Prefecture, he grew up in the village of Shibutami, where his father was a priest at a Buddhist temple. Entering the Morioka school, he, inspired by the poems of the poet Yosano Hiroshi, decided to devote himself to literature. He offers his romantic poems to magazines, but he is rarely published. There were only a few publications in the influential magazine Pleiades (Subaru) that were criticized. At this time, he begins to write in the traditional tanka brazier, accommodating completely new experiences, everyday life and longing into the old form. Tankas from this period were published under the title A Handful of Sand (1910). The poet is hired by the newspaper Asahi Shimbun, where he becomes a proofreader and receives a regular income for the first time. In 1909, he published his later famous essay on poetry, "Poems You Can Eat," in which he outlined the principles of modern poetry and captured his own experience. He died of tuberculosis in great poverty in 1912 at the age of 26. After the death of the poet, his second tanka book, Sad Toy, was published and became the favorite book of the Japanese. It contains the best of his poems of the most recent years and months. Widely known for his "Diary, written in Latin".
A monument to the poet was erected on the sea coast of the island of Hokkaido. The young man sits in concentrated and deep thought, propping his head with a thin hand. And people read the words engraved on the pedestal:
On the north coast
Where is the wind, breathing the surf,
Flying over a ridge of dunes
Are you blooming like you used to be
Rosehip, and this year?
Tanka from the collection "A Handful of Sand"
* * *
On the sandy white shore
islet
In the Eastern Ocean
I, without wiping my wet eyes,
I play with a small crab.
* * *
Oh how sad you are
Lifeless sand!
I can barely hold you in my hand
The rustle is barely audible
Falling between your fingers.
* * *
Where the tears fell
wet
Grain of sand.
How heavy have you become
A tear!
* * *
Can I forget
The one who, without brushing away tears,
running down the cheek,
Showed me
How quickly a handful of sand falls.
* * *
To the sand hills
A broken trunk is nailed by a wave,
And I, looking around,
About the most secret
I'm trying to at least tell him.
* * *
In front of the vast sea
I'm alone.
What a day
As soon as tears come to the throat,
I'm leaving the house.
* * *
On the sandy hill
I lay for a long time
face down,
Remembering distant pain
My first love.
* * *
A hundred times
On the coastal sand
Sign "Great" I wrote
And, throwing away the thought of death,
Went home again.
* * *
Without a purpose
I leave the house
Without a purpose
I'm coming back.
Friends laugh at me.
* * *
Like somewhere
Subtly crying
Cicada. . .
So sad
In my heart.
* * *
I took the mirror
Began to build
Grimaces in a hundred frets -
What only could. . .
When I'm tired of tears.
* * *
And somewhere people are arguing:
Who will pull out
Lucky draw?
And I would be with them
Compete.
* * *
In the tram
Happens to me every time
Some shorty
Drinks with cunning eyes. . .
I began to fear these meetings.
* * *
In front of the mirror shop
I was suddenly surprised. . .
So that's what I am!
frayed,
Pale.
* * *
I'm in an empty house
Has entered
And smoked a little. . .
I wanted
To be alone.
* * *
I don't know why
I dreamed so much
Ride by train.
Here - I got off the train,
And nowhere to go
* * *
burrow
In a soft pile of snow
Burning face...
Such love
I want to love!
* * *
Would yawn
Thinking of nothing
As if awakened
From a long
From a hundred years of sleep.
* * *
With a light heart
I wanted to praise him
But in a proud heart
hid deep
Sadness.
* * *
It's raining -
And in my house
Everyone has
Such hazy faces. . .
If only the rain would stop soon!
* * *
Am I flattered?
No, anger takes me.
How sad
Know yourself
Too good!
* * *
The fun time is over
When I loved
Suddenly knock
At someone else's door
To run towards me.
* * *
Yesterday I held on to people
Like the chosen one
Ruler of thoughts
But after the soul -
Such bitterness!
* * *
unsuitable for business
dreamer poet,
That's what he thinks of me.
And he has something, just him
I had to ask for a loan.
* * *
"That's good
And this is good!" -
Other people are talking.
Envy me
Such a lightness of spirit.
* * *
When to Serve
capricious,
impudent tyrants,
How scary
Seems like the whole world!
* * *
There is a joyful
mild fatigue,
When, without taking a breath,
finish
Hard work.
* * *
Frozen sticks in hand
And suddenly I thought with fear:
"Oh, finally
To the order established in the world,
I've gotten used to it too!
* * *
Like soaking up water
To failure
The sea sponge is getting heavier
So feeling heavy
It grows in my soul.
* * *
Just like that, for nothing
Would run!
Until it takes your breath away
run
On the soft meadow grass.
* * *
I will leave the house
It's like I wake up.
After all, there is a warm sun somewhere. . .
Deep,
I will take a deep breath.
* * *
Finally ran away today
Like a sick animal
Knowing no peace
Anxiety. ..
She broke out of her heart and ran away.
* * *
Oh my friend
Don't blame anyone
For being so pathetic.
Hungry,
And I look like him.
* * *
The smell of fresh ink.
Pulled out the plug.
I, hungry, suddenly
Sucked under the spoon. . .
Sad life!
* * *
I had two friends
Similar to me in every way.
One died.
And the other
I got out of prison sick.
* * *
Opened my whole soul
During conversation. . .
But it seemed to me
I lost something
And I hurried away from my friend.
Work,
Work! What of that?
Life doesn't get easier. . .
I look straight ahead
On your hands.
* * *
Like my future
Suddenly revealed
In all nakedness.
Such sadness
Don't forget, don't give up. . .
* * *
I don't know why
It seems to me that in my head
Steep cliff,
And every, every day
The earth crumbles silently.
* * *
The words,
Unknown to people. . .
Suddenly it seemed to me -
I know them
One.
* * *
I was looking for a new heart
And so today
One wandered
Through the deaf streets...
me and their names
Don't know!
* * *
In the heart of every person
If really
He is a human -
secret prisoner
Moaning. . .
Ishikawa Takuboku(October 28, 1885, Tamayama village, Honshu Island - April 13, 1912, Tokyo) - Japanese writer.
He died very early, at twenty-six and a half years old, remaining in the memory of his people as an "eternal youth." In many places in Japan, you can see large boulders with carved lines of his poems, every Japanese knows them. They became folk songs. The works of no other Japanese writer of the 20th century have as many reprints as the poems of Ishikawa Takuboku. In Japanese literary science there is a separate branch - "takubokuznavstvo". Until now, several thousand books and articles about his life and work have been published. These works are no less popular than his own works.
The best part of the literary heritage of Ishikawa Takuboku is the one that brought him worldwide fame, this tanka (literally "short song"). He wrote them throughout his creative life, publishing them in magazines and newspapers. In total, the poet's legacy includes several hundred "short songs"; the seven hundred and forty-five selected tanks made up two separate collections. These thin little books are a kind of lyrical diaries of the poet of life.
Ishikawa Takuboku was born on October 28, 1885 (in some Japanese sources, Ishikawa Takuboku's birthday is February 20, 1886 - the date of registration of his birth) in the village of Tamayama, Iwate Prefecture in the northeast of Honshu. The real name of the poet is Hajime, that is, "the first". So they called him, apparently because he was the first and only boy in the family of the priest Ishikawa Ittei.
In the spring of 1887, the Ishikawa Takuboku family moved to the neighboring village of Sibutami, where his father became the rector of a Buddhist temple. This village is a poet and will be called his homeland in the future. Childhood is the happiest time in the life of a future poet. The only guy was a sissy in the family, all his desires were implicitly fulfilled. Having let in his father and another whim of his son - and at the age of five and a half, that is, before reaching the proper age, Hajime became a schoolboy. He was often sick, but he studied well, he stood out even among older classmates with extraordinary quick wits. No wonder the villagers called him "a child with God's gift." He graduated from the rural "four-year school" with honors.
To study in the next three grades of elementary school, the guy was sent to the capital of the prefecture - the city of Morioka. There he lived with his mother's brother. Immediately after leaving school, in April 1898, Hajime successfully passed the exams for the prefectural gymnasium. Becoming a high school student was a significant achievement for a rural boy at that time, so it is not surprising that the parents simply adored their son and, of course, had high hopes for him. And here, in the gymnasium, Hajime struck the teachers with a precocious mind. He even made friends mostly with high school students. One day, one of them, Kindaichi Kyosuke, who would become an outstanding Japanese philologist, gave him the Morning Star magazine to read, which was being published in Tokyo by the New Poetry Society. Since then, Ishikawa Takuboku, who was still seriously interested in literature, began to rave about it.
At the turn of the XIX-XX centuries. Japanese poetry was on the rise. After the bourgeois Meiji revolution of 1868, the works of European writers began to be intensively translated in Japan. In the system of Japanese versification, a new form of sіntaisi (literally - “poems of a new form”) arose, because it was impossible to translate long poems of Western poets with traditional short forms of haiku (three lines) and tanka (n "yativirsh"). Japanese "poems of a new form" similar to our white poems, have an unlimited number of lines, mostly twelve folds with a caesura after the seventh composition.Many of the Japanese poets began to write their own works mainly in the form of syntasi.Along with the new form came a new meaning - a period of romanticism began in Japanese poetry, which reached its peak in creativity of Shimazaki Toson (1872-1942).
Romantic trends have not bypassed traditional forms. First, Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), and then Yesano Tekkan (1873-1935), not only with their theoretical works, but also in practice, proved that hockey and tanka can only truly be revived thanks to new content. In 1899 Yesano Tekkan organized the "Society of New Poetry", to which he attracted most of the poets of that time, and from 1900 he began to publish the magazine "Morning Star" - he was destined to become the main tribune of romantic poetry.
Fascinated by the ideas of Tekkan, Ishikawa Takuboku began to write p "yativirshi and syntais in the spirit of the Morning Star poets, placing them, along with his articles, in handwritten school magazines. At this time, love came to a fifteen-year-old boy. Ishikawa Takuboku fell in love with Horia Setsuko, a girl who lived next door, he would marry her in the future.
Having given himself up to poetry, the former “most talented of the students” began to skip classes a little and get not the best grades. True, it cannot be said that the gymnasium no longer interested him at all - in 1901 he was one of the organizers of the students' strike. But after failing at the next exams and being reprimanded, he finally decided to leave the gymnasium, although six months remained to study before graduation. The seventeen-year-old boy believed that he had more important reasons to leave the gymnasium: he would become a writer.
At the end of October 1901, Ishikawa Takuboku went to Tokyo. There he met Tekkan and became a member of the New Poetry Society, thereby gaining the opportunity to publish his poems regularly in the Morning Star. However, daytime sitting in the library, of course, did not give him any income. He was kicked out of the apartment he rented. Hunger and cold finished the job: Ishikawa Takuboku. fell seriously ill. Upon learning of this, the frightened father came to Tokyo and took his son home.
Being treated after returning to Shibutami, Ishikawa Takuboku persistently engaged in self-education, wrote a lot - now, on the advice of Tekkan, mostly syntais. In December 1903, five of his "long poems" appeared on the pages of The Morning Star. This collection was first signed with the pseudonym Takuboku (literally - "Kluytree"), which was offered to the young poet Tekkan.
1904 - the year of the rapid rise in popularity of Ishikawa Takuboku. His poetry was in almost every issue of the Morning Star and in other publications. I. T. becomes known in wide literary circles. In the autumn of this year, the poet went to Tokyo for the second time, and a few months later, in May 1905, the collection Thirst (Akogare) was published in the capital, written in the style of "poems of a new form."
True, in the history of Japanese poetry, the first collection of Ishikawa Takuboku did not leave a noticeable mark. Written under the strong influence of the romantic school, although very skillfully for a beginner, his poems were not original either in a language overloaded with archaisms and poetic prettiness, or in a subject matter dominated by the motives of world sorrow and loneliness, divorced from life aspiration.
In June 1905, Ishikawa Takuboku was forced to leave Tokyo: the father, in order to financially support his son, sold the cryptomers that belonged to the temple, and, accused by the parishioners, lost his position. Ishikawa Takuboku went to Morioka, where his parents settled with their youngest daughter. Soon he got married. Since then, hard times have begun for the Ishikawa Takuboku family. Until his death, despite all efforts, he will never be able to escape from a semi-beggarly existence.
At the beginning of 1906, Ishikawa Takuboku and his family, now the only breadwinner, returned to Shibutami and got a job as a teacher in his native school. Meager earnings - eight yen a month - were not enough for five people, and therefore, hoping for a fee, he wrote a novel from the life of rural teachers in the late evenings. And he failed to publish "The Cloud of Genius" - his first prose work. The financial situation of the family worsened. In addition, soon the child was born. Father Ishikawa Takuboku, in order to rid the family of an extra mouth, left the house aimlessly, having the single most likely prospect: to starve to death somewhere under the fence. Soon he was found and returned home, but for Ishikawa Takuboku this event was a terrible shock. He realized that it was impossible to live like this any longer, that he had to look for earnings.
Before leaving the school, in April 1907, Hajime organized a student strike, which raised a great commotion throughout the village. “As if driven by stones,” the poet leaves his homeland. Taking only his younger sister with him, on May 4, 1907, Ishikawa Takuboku went to Hokkaido, where he stayed in the city of Hakodate. Members of the local society of poets helped him get a job as a teacher in an elementary school. Other sources of income also appeared: he was invited to manage the editorial office of a local poetry magazine, and later he also agreed to work in a newspaper publishing house. Life gradually improved. In early July, he summoned his wife and daughter, and a month later, his mother. But this time, please, the fate was not long. On the night of August 25, a huge fire burned down two-thirds of Hakodate. Everything burned down: the school, the editorial office of the magazine and the publishing house.
The sad wanderings of the poet around the island began. In Sapporo, he did not live long, only two weeks, because the position of a proofreader in a newspaper publishing house did not give the main - more or less decent income. About some kind of creative satisfaction from the work of Ishikawa Takuboku now did not dream. He moved to the city of Otaru and got a job at the editorial office of a newly opened newspaper, but he did not stay here for long either. Tired of constant quarrels, he was eventually forced to quit. Alone, without a family, in early 1908, Ishikawa Takuboku traveled across Hokkaido to the town of Kushiro, where he received the position of editor-in-chief of the local newspaper. “In search of daily bread, I climbed further and further north,” Ishikawa wrote to Takuboku, “but even there the voice of a young movement reached my ears, which captured both public opinion and literature. Overwhelmed by the poetry of empty dreams, and some of the life experiences I've had helped me grasp the spirit of this new movement."
This new movement was naturalism - a rather complex and heterogeneous phenomenon in Japanese literature. This literary trend included both naturalism proper and critical realism. The magazine "Morning Star" and the whole direction of romanticism at that time lost their leading positions. There was a tendency to move from poetry to prose. The naturalistic and realistic prose works of Nagai Kafu, Shimazaki Toson, Kunikida Doppo gained popularity.
Ishikawa Takuboku happily welcomed the emergence of a new trend. In the article "A Branch on the Table" (February 1908) he wrote: "Naturalism was born to change literature, the great disadvantage of which is the exclusive attention only to formal craftsmanship." At the end of April 1908, having moved his family from Otaru to Hakodate and leaving them under the care of his friend Miyazaki Ikuu, Ishikawa Takuboku went to the capital. Here he was given asylum by Kindaichi Kyosuke, now a student at the University of Tokyo. Almost without leaving the room, for a month and a half, I. T. wrote five stories, none of the works was accepted for publication. There was nothing to help the family, debts grew, faith in one's own talent disappeared, and then thoughts of suicide began to appear.
During one of the sleepless nights, Ishikawa Takuboku began to write p "yativirshi" in his notebook. These were simple, unpretentious reflections on his beggarly life, memories of a happy childhood. These poems were not at all like those that he wrote so far, they gave birth despair and a desire to hide from him somewhere.In two days, Ishikawa Takuboku wrote more than two hundred five-verses.
A significant change took place in his soul, in his views on literature. Here is an excerpt from his article “Poems You Can Eat” (1909): “You must fully develop your great talent. It is necessary to write poetry, having a feeling of inextricable connection with real life. It is necessary to write poems that would give off not the aroma of gourmet dishes, but the smell of our everyday food. We must write poems in which we feel the need. Perhaps this means lowering poetry from established positions to some lower ones, but it seems to me that poetry, the presence or absence of which does not change anything in our life, must be turned into an essential necessity. This is the only way to assert the right of poetry to exist.” Starting from July 1908, his p "yativirshi" were constantly published on the pages of various periodicals. "These are my sad toys," the poet said. ), and in June 1912, posthumously, - the collection "Sad Toys" ("Kanasіki Ganga"). It was they who made Ishikawa Takuboku the most beloved poet of the Japanese people.
In June 1911 Ishikawa Takuboku wrote several "long poems" of overtly political content. Subsequently, they compiled the collection Whistle and Whistle (Obiko-tokutibue, 1912).
The last, Tokyo, years of the writer's life (1908-1912) is not only a period of rapid development of artistic skill, but also a period of the most intensive work: during this time several stories, dozens of literary-critical and journalistic articles, hundreds of poems were written.
Some of this huge amount of works by Ishikawa Takuboku managed to be published. In addition, he worked as a proofreader in one of the capital's newspapers, was an employee of the editorial office of the literary magazine Pleiades. So, a year after his arrival in Tokyo, he had the opportunity to call his mother and wife; A little later, my father arrived. The financial situation of the family gradually became better - more precisely, it approached the subsistence level. But the half-starved life of previous years brought its terrible consequences - tuberculosis appeared in the family. First, the little son who was born in October 1910 died. This bereavement hastened the death of Ishikawa Takuboku himself. He died on April 13, 1912. A month before, already doomed, he buried his mother. Ishikawa Takuboku's second daughter was born two months after his death. A year later, she became an orphan - in May 1913, Setsuko, the wife of Ishikawa Takuboku, died.
April is called "Takuboku month" in Japanese. Every year on April 13, Japan celebrates his day of remembrance. Ishikawa Takuboku became the founder of the realistic direction in the form of a tank. And not only the founder - so far not a single Japanese poet has reached in tanka those peaks of realistic skill that were available to the genius Ishikawa Takuboku.
Ishikawa Takuboku's five-line style is notable for its extreme simplicity of expression and at the same time deep psychologism, the absence of the slightest deliberateness, and through this - some imperfection of the bill of form. A friend of Ishikawa Takuboku, the poet Wakayama Bokusui wrote: "Sometimes it seems that, having forgotten, he is talking to himself, as if he is taking a breath." In these “self-talks”, Ishikawa Takuboku quite often violated the canon p "yativirsha tanka (1st and 3rd lines - five syllables, 2nd, 4th and 5th - seven), reducing or, more often, the clumsiness, from a formal point of view, of some of the five lines of Ishikawa Takuboku is, of course, not due to a lack of artistic skill (in the collection Thirst, he proved the opposite). , philologist and poet of the 8th century: "... sincere human feelings are tender, unequal and even unreasonable. And since poetry is something that describes feelings, it should be in harmony with feelings, that is, be uneven, angular and not flattered."
But the main merit of Ishikawa Takuboku lies not in the “expanded” form of poetic miniature (in the triverses of the 17th century poet Matsuo Basho there are also more significant “liberties”) and not in the fact that he began to widely use the words of living, folk speech instead of bookish in his tanka. vocabulary. The innovation of Ishikawa Takuboku is, first of all, the decisive democratization of the content of the "short song". Many of the stamps of the medieval tank have already been abandoned by the romantics. But even in their works, the two main themes of the classical p "yativirsh remained the main ones: nature and love. In the Ishikawa Takuboku tank, these themes no longer dominate the others. The theme of his five-line poems is the most uniform, she knows neither sympathy nor restrictions.
Such a democratic content was characteristic of the poetic genre of haiku, which flourished in the 17th-18th centuries. So, we can say that Ishikawa Takuboku made a certain synthesis of the tanka form and the haiku genre.
Some works of Ishikawa Takuboku were translated into Ukrainian by G. Turkov and M. Fedorishin.
In Ishikawa Takuboku
Ishikawa Takuboku (石川啄木) is a poet, prose writer, and literary critic who had a great influence on the development of modern tanka poetry, updating its subject matter and language.
Takuboku began composing tanka at school, however, having arrived in Tokyo at the age of 16, he became interested in the poetry of the new style and switched to writing similar poems himself, believing that it was impossible to reflect the spirit of the modern era in tanka. The first collection of works of this kind was called "Aspirations".
Pursued by poverty, the poet was soon forced to leave for the provinces, where he worked either as a school teacher or as a reporter, somehow making ends meet and trying his hand at prose.
In 1908, the poet returns to Tokyo and here again recalls the tanka poetry he once left behind. From 1908 to 1910, he created more than 500 tanks, which were included in the collection "A Handful of Sand" that glorified him. In 1912, after the death of Takuboku, the second collection of his tanka, Sad Toys, was published.
Ishikawa Takuboku died of tuberculosis at the age of 26. A number of poems have been translated into Russian.
Lyrics in the poetry of Ishikawa Takuboku
(excerpts from the preface to the book "Lyrics" translated by Vera Markova from "Children's Literature" 1981)
When you first read Japanese poetry, the feeling of beauty and alienation at the same time does not leave you. So unlike European literature, haiku and tanka sound so short, fragmentary, piercing - traditional three-line and five-line lines.
Then, having learned more, you understand where the feeling is not of a created, written, but as if born poem. Japanese poetry does not know the draft, the verse is created as soon as the landscape opens in the crack of the mountains: a patch of sky, a light cloud, a pine branch. But to achieve perfection, you need to hone your craft skills for a long time. Only after going through a tough school, the poet gains freedom. Ishikawa Takuboku is one of the most beloved Japanese lyricists, the creator of new Japanese poetry. He lived only 26 years, but left collections of poems, novels, articles, diaries. All this was included in the golden fund of modern Japanese literature.
Poems by Ishikawa Takuboku amaze with the tension of emotions and the sparing, carefully selected strokes with which the master draws a lyrical image.
leaning against my shoulder,
Among the snows She stood at night...
How warm was her hand.
One of the most famous poems "On the sandy white coast" from the collection "A Handful of Sand". Five lines convey sadness, endless loneliness, the vastness of the ocean and the endless uncertainty of the future. This poem can only be quoted in its entirety, it is a perfection in which there is nothing to add or subtract:
On the sandy white shore
Ostrovka
In the Eastern Ocean
I, without wiping my wet eyes,
I play with a small crab.
Tragedy permeates the work of Ishikawa Takuboku, tragedy and love for man, nature, "small homeland", the village of Shibutami. Loneliness with an ice ring squeezes the heart of the poet:
To the sand hills
A broken trunk is nailed by a wave,
And I, looking around,
About the most secret
I'm trying to at least tell him.
***
It's raining -
And in my house
Everyone has
Such hazy faces...
If only the rain would stop soon.
The constant struggle of hopelessness and steadfastness, the dignity that is born behind the last line of humiliation and the proud, steadfast flower rises up, is the meaning of Ishikawa Takuboku's poetry:
A hundred times
On the coastal sand
Sign "Great" I wrote
And, throwing away the thought of death,
Went home again.
Poetry should be lofty, like heaven, and earthly, like daily bread. Ishikawa Takuboku called one of his articles "Poems that you can eat." Despite the sadness, the poet loves life, always returns to life, which was released to him so little. Ishikawa Takuboku was close to Russian literature. Like his contemporary Akutagawa, he idolized F. M. Dostoevsky. His favorite heroine was Sonechka Marmeladova from the novel "Crime and Punishment":
Russian name
Sonya
I gave my daughter
And it makes me happy
Sometimes call out to her.
On the coast of the island of Hokkaido, not far from the native places of the poet, a monument was erected to him. Lines carved on the pedestal
On the north coast
Where is the wind, breathing the surf,
Flying over the ridge of days
Are you blooming like you used to be
Rosehip, and this year?
Original entry and comments on
The collection includes poems from the books A Handful of Sand, Sad Toy, Whistle and Whistle and poems from various books.
Self love songs
On the sandy white shore
islet
In the Eastern Ocean
I, without wiping my wet eyes,
I play with a small crab.
Oh how sad you are
Lifeless sand!
I can barely hold you in my hand
The rustle is barely audible
Falling between your fingers.
Where the tears fell
wet
Grain of sand.
How heavy have you become
A tear!
Can I forget
The one who, without brushing away tears,
running down the cheek,
Showed me
How quickly a handful of sand falls.
To the sand hills
A broken trunk is nailed by a wave,
And I, looking around,
About the most secret
I'm trying to at least tell him.
In front of the vast sea
I'm alone.
What a day
As soon as tears come to the throat,
I'm leaving the house.
On the sandy hill
I lay for a long time
face down,
Remembering distant pain
My first love.
A hundred times
On the coastal sand
Sign "Great" I wrote
And, throwing away the thought of death,
Went home again.
With annoyance
Mother called me
Then, finally, he noticed:
By the cup with chopsticks
I knock, I knock...
In the evening without a fire I sat
And suddenly I look:
Coming out of the wall
Father and mother,
Leaning on sticks.
I'm joking
He put his mother on his shoulders
She was so easy
That I couldn't live without tears
And three steps to go!
Without a purpose
I leave the house
Without a purpose
I'm coming back.
Friends laugh at me.
Like somewhere
Subtly crying
Cicada…
So sad
In my heart.
I took the mirror
Began to build
Grimaces in a hundred ways
What only could ...
When I'm tired of tears.
Tears, tears -
Great miracle!
Washed with tears
A heart
Ready to laugh again.
"And just because of this
Die?"
"And just for this
Live?"
Leave, leave useless argument.
To make it easy on the heart!
To find one like this
Joyful work!
"I'll finish it
And then I'll die," I thought...
Night fun
In Aeacusa Park,
Intervened in the crowd.
left the crowd
With a sad heart.
When, as a rare guest,
Comes to the heart
Silence,
It's easy for me to listen
Even the strike of the clock.
I climbed to the top of the mountain.
Involuntarily
From happiness
He waved his hat.
Went down again.
And somewhere people are arguing:
Who will pull out
Lucky draw?
And I would be with them
Compete.
I would like to be angry
Shatter the vase!
To break immediately -
Ninety nine -
And die.
In the tram
Happens to me every time
Some shorty
Drinks with cunning eyes.
I began to fear these meetings.
In front of the mirror shop
I was suddenly surprised...
So that's what I am!
frayed,
Pale.
I'm in an empty house
Has entered
And smoked a little
I wanted
To be alone.
I don't know why
I dreamed so much
Ride by train.
Here, I got off the train.
And nowhere to go
burrow
In a soft pile of snow
Burning face...
Such love
I want to love!
Hands crossed on chest
Often I think now:
“Where is he, the giant enemy?
Let it come out
Dance before me!”
Would yawn
Thinking of nothing
As if awakened
From a long
From a hundred years of sleep.
white hands,
Big hands...
Everyone is talking about him:
"What an extraordinary man he is!"
And so, I met him.
With a light heart
I wanted to praise him
But in a proud heart
hid deep
Sadness.
It's raining -
And in my house
Everyone has
Such hazy faces...
If only the rain would stop soon!
Am I flattered?
No, anger takes me.
How sad
Know yourself
Too good!
The fun time is over
When I loved
Suddenly knock
At someone else's door
To run towards me.
Yesterday I held on to people
Like the chosen one
Ruler of thoughts
But after the soul -
Such bitterness!
unsuitable for business
dreamer poet,
That's what he thinks of me.
And he has something, just him
I had to ask for a loan.
"That's good
And this is good!" -
Other people are talking.
Envy me
Such a lightness of spirit.
How fun to listen
mighty rumble
Dynamos.
Oh, if only I
That's how you talk to people!
When to Serve
capricious,
impudent tyrants,
How scary
Seems like the whole world!
There is a joyful
mild fatigue,
When, without taking a breath,
finish
Hard work.
Frozen sticks in hand
And suddenly I thought with fear:
"Oh, finally
To the order established in the world,
I've gotten used to it too!
Like soaking up water
To failure
The sea sponge is getting heavier
So feeling heavy
It grows in my soul.
Just like that, for nothing
Would run!
Until it takes your breath away
run
On the soft meadow grass.
I will leave the house
It's like I wake up.
After all, there is a warm sun somewhere.
Deep,
I will take a deep breath.
Finally ran away today
Like a sick animal
Knowing no peace
Anxiety…
She broke out of her heart and ran away.
Oh my friend
Don't blame anyone
For being so pathetic.
Hungry,
And I look like him.
The smell of fresh ink.
Pulled out the plug.
I, hungry, suddenly
Sucked under the spoon ...
Sad life!
"Let them all perish,
Who at least once
made me
Bow your head!" -
I prayed...
I had two friends
Similar to me in every way.
One died.
And the other
I got out of prison sick.
When you first read Japanese poetry, the feeling of beauty and alienation at the same time does not leave you. So unlike European literature, haiku and tanka sound so short, fragmentary, piercing - traditional three-line and five-line lines.
Then, having learned more, you understand where the feeling is not of a created, written, but as if born poem. Japanese poetry does not know the draft, the verse is created as soon as the landscape opens in the crack of the mountains: a patch of sky, a light cloud, a pine branch.
But to achieve perfection, you need to hone your craft skills for a long time. Only after going through a tough school, the poet gains freedom.
Ishikawa Takuboku is one of the most beloved Japanese lyricists, the creator of new Japanese poetry. He lived only 27 years, but left collections of poems, novels, articles, diaries. All this was included in the golden fund of modern Japanese literature.
Poems by Ishikawa Takuboku amaze with the tension of emotions and the sparing, carefully selected strokes with which the master draws a lyrical image.
A hundred times
On the coastal sand
Sign "Great" I wrote
And, throwing away the thought of death,
Went home again.
I counted
His few years.
Looked at the fingers
And drive away
I got sick.
************************************
New
foreign book.
How eagerly I breathed
The smell of paper.
At least some money!
************************************
"I'll strike!" - told me.
I answered:
"Hit the!"
Oh if I could be like this again
As in previous years.
************************************
I am a friend
As an enemy, I hated
But to l go-to l go
shook his hand,
When it's time to part.
************************************
Wet snow flew towards
And across the Ishikari Plain
Our train raced through the blizzard.
I'm in this northern expanse
Roman Turgenev read.
************************************
frozen steam
On the carriage window
Became a cloud
Lepestkov
Sunrise colors.
************************************
On the sandy white shore
islet
In the Eastern Ocean
I, without wiping my wet eyes,
I play with a small crab.
************************************
Oh how sad you are
Lifeless sand!
I can barely hold you in my hand
The rustle is barely audible
Falling between your fingers.
************************************
When, as a rare guest,
Comes to the heart
Silence,
It's easy for me to listen
Even the strike of the clock.
************************************
I don't know why
I dreamed so much
Ride by train.
Here - I got off the train,
And nowhere to go
************************************
With a light heart
I wanted to praise him
But in a proud heart
hid deep
Sadness.
************************************
Yesterday I held on to people
Like the chosen one
Ruler of thoughts
But after the soul -
Such bitterness!
**************************
leaning against my shoulder,
Among the snows
She stood at night...
What warmth
It was her hand.
**************************
**************************
Like a traveler
Chilled in the wind
The oncoming one asks the way,
Yes, just so
I spoke to you..
**************************
There are thoughts like this:
As if on a clean
cool marble
It's pouring
Spring light..
**************************
He opened his whole soul in conversation,
But it seemed to me:
I've lost something.
And I'm from a friend
Hastened to leave.
**************************
Ishikawa Takuboku died of tuberculosis. On the coast of the island of Hokkaido, not far from the native places of the poet, a monument was erected to him. The following lines are carved on the pedestal:
On the north coast
Where is the wind, breathing the surf,
Flying over the ridge of days
Are you blooming like you used to be
Rosehip, and this year?
