Post by Please Delete on Sept 10, 2016 19:42:11 GMT -5
This was my moon themed poetry entry for Sacred Stone's baronial birthday. It is a chōka in English, my first serious attempt at Japanese long form poetry. In Heian fashion it is addressed by a suitor to his lover. This may differ slightly from the version performed.
Chōka are alternating lines of 5-7-5-7-...-7-7. It is often followed by envoys: independent tanka that are related to the feeling of the poem. This is perhaps more explicit a poem than usual, but I am still working on the format.
Chōka for the Full Moon
By Fujiwara Shōshō
Whilst you slumber, deep,
I gaze upon the full moon
From your veranda;
Its beauty calls out to me
Firm and round and soft
Not unlike a golden peach
From the garden of
the Queen Mother of the West.
If I could reach out
And feel its sweet, gentle curves
Taking a deep bite
Of that so succulent flesh
Then that ecstasy
Would last an eternity.
I love the full moon,
And this I cannot deny,
'Tis so round and fair;
Listen to it calling out.
The three quarters moon
Is like a four line tanka
Finished too soon, yea,
Before it reaches climax.
Anemic half-moons
Are a partial cup of wine
Poured out by a host
Too stingy with his treasures.
The fully drawn bow
Is much too skinny and sharp;
It would not abide
A lover's gentle caress.
Then there's the new moon
Completely hidden from view
Teasing its suitors
From behind a pitch black screen.
No, give me this view,
And I shall stay here and gaze
Until my sleeves drip with dew.
Gazing through curtains
You are hidden behind clouds
Made of reeds and silk;
And yet I see you clearly
By the light of the oil lamp.
Out in the roadway
Clattering cart wheels cannot
Disturb this moment;
Above, the Plain of Heaven
Is empty but for the stars.
Chōka are alternating lines of 5-7-5-7-...-7-7. It is often followed by envoys: independent tanka that are related to the feeling of the poem. This is perhaps more explicit a poem than usual, but I am still working on the format.
Chōka for the Full Moon
By Fujiwara Shōshō
Whilst you slumber, deep,
I gaze upon the full moon
From your veranda;
Its beauty calls out to me
Firm and round and soft
Not unlike a golden peach
From the garden of
the Queen Mother of the West.
If I could reach out
And feel its sweet, gentle curves
Taking a deep bite
Of that so succulent flesh
Then that ecstasy
Would last an eternity.
I love the full moon,
And this I cannot deny,
'Tis so round and fair;
Listen to it calling out.
The three quarters moon
Is like a four line tanka
Finished too soon, yea,
Before it reaches climax.
Anemic half-moons
Are a partial cup of wine
Poured out by a host
Too stingy with his treasures.
The fully drawn bow
Is much too skinny and sharp;
It would not abide
A lover's gentle caress.
Then there's the new moon
Completely hidden from view
Teasing its suitors
From behind a pitch black screen.
No, give me this view,
And I shall stay here and gaze
Until my sleeves drip with dew.
Gazing through curtains
You are hidden behind clouds
Made of reeds and silk;
And yet I see you clearly
By the light of the oil lamp.
Out in the roadway
Clattering cart wheels cannot
Disturb this moment;
Above, the Plain of Heaven
Is empty but for the stars.