Thanks for sharing your haiku, Martin. I will try to give you something in return.

Early autumn
afternoon light--
your cheeks still blush.

I think there is something good here: Two images, one seasonal, and a warm feeling is sent and received. That said, I am going to start getting a little more picky from now on, and I hope Martin will forgive me for starting with his poem. (But nothing really damning, so put away the nitro tablets!) This haiku gives me a chance to talk about the connection between the images. Like the Three Bears, there are three possibilities: too cold, too hot and just right. If the images are two far away, the reader will not be able to put them together and there will be no spark, only confustion. If they are too close, there will be no spark, only a current. But if they are just right, the images will spark in the reader's mind and heart. While i feel that the poem is successful, i think the connection between the images might be a tad too close. For my second point, i will deliberately misread the poem. If one were contrary and cynical, one could read the poem in this way: the "you" refered to in the poem is a corpse. The only reason i mention this is to point out that one must be very careful that what one intends to say is what one actually does say. The most famous example of this i know of is by my haiku buddy, Randy Brooks. He once wrote something like "summer evening / my mother takes my arm / from grave to grave." Of course, what was meant was that his mother took him by the arm and led him from family grave to family grave. But the actual poem has his mother carrying around an arm looking for somewhere to put it. I think that because of its concision, the haiku poet is especially vulnerable to this kind of misadventure.

The muskrat
leaves mud contrails
in reflected clouds.

I think this one is "OK", but I am not particularly fond of haiku that contain conceits like this. It is partly because as an editor I have read thousands of poems like this and after a while one develops a preference for direct experience over appearances.

and an homage/parody/joke

White bratwurst;
add a pair of wings--
a plump pigeon!

How can anyone not like a bratwurst haiku?

Brian, "Lee" is fine. To get to your questions: Yes, I agree with Bill's assesment of the Yuasa translation. On the other hand, if you like the book, please enjoy it. The main caution would be to not use the haiku translations as models for your own efforts at haiku. As to recommendations, I would suggest Hiro Sato's translation.

Form. Yes, many people from the "give me 5-7-5 or give me Death" school may not be aware that there is and has been considerable variation in the actual practice of Japanese haiku. So the form in Japanese is, shall we say, strict but fluid. After all, it is variation from form that is one of the tools in the poet's workshop for producing energy in a poem. If people did not have some idea of haiku form Cor van den Heuvel's haiku "tundra" (that is, the single word "tundra" on a white page) would not have had the impact that it did.

Steve, Wow! What an erudite posting! I am jealous of your facility with Japanese. Well, not jealous. Extremely jealous! Onward . . .

Shirane also discusses this matter in some detail in his Traces of Dreams. In fact, he has a chapter on Basho’s poetics titled “Awakening to the High, Returning to the Low.” As far as my thoughts on “Departing from the commonplace while using the commonplace” are concerned, my current understanding of this concept, and its application to my own practice of haiku, is contained in my earlier posting in terms of using sensory (ordinarliy seasonal) images to connect heaven and heart. But please note that “departing from the commonplace” implies BEGINNING in the commonplace. Otherwise, how can one depart from it? Lee

P.S. A fabulous idea to post links on "renku," etc.

Thanks Lee!
It may be that I love The Narrow Road more in spite of than because of Yuasa's translation, and will love a better (or different) translation even more.

the ball I lost
from the tee turns up
in the hole

(Hi Lee!)

Hi, Robert. I remember you and your fine work very well from last time around. Some comments below . . .

mother’s lawn;
fallen apples
brown and red

I think this one is well done and has something to it.

long day…
the cat stretches
and ignores me

And on the short day, too, but somehow there is a certain "rightness" to the long day here. Well done.

snowflakes
seen through the windshield
people in rags

Doesn't seem as strong as the other ones. The association of images seems more arbitrary here.

winter night—
shadows shiver
around the barrel

OK, but "winter" in contained in "shiver" and "night" in "shadows", so there is a certain redundancy here that indicates that this poem might benefit from a more rigorously applied editorial scalpel.

green pears
mottled brown
lunch bags

This one says less to me than the others so far.

early autumn…
the sound of leaves falling
in my office

Once again, there is a certain redundancy here that detracts somewhat.

Indian summer
a robin perches
on the headstone

Much more nicely done, don't you think?

Easter lilies—
the last trumpet falls
without a sound

OK, but I am not getting much out of it except the pun on "trumpet."

night sky
it's just you and me
little bug

Also OK, but aren't there also stars and possibly the moon?

October rain
again this grey wet
phlegm on my chin

Also OK, but "longest day" or "indian summer" still seem the strongest of the bunch. Thanks for sharing! Reading these poems, no one will doubt that you know haiku. Lee

Brevity is the soul of wit, and I am often witless.

Thanks, Lee, for your reply to my "questions." i especially like your answer to the "seasonal reference" question. I think the "universal < particular > human" formulation is on the money. My own feeling at this moment is that the "atmospheric background of associations" is what is essential, but I agree with you that the best haiku evoke it through seasonal references. I also find I often make seasonal references accidentally. Often those are the best ones because I am not too conscious of the atmospheric context I am playing with, at least until later in the revision process.

David R.

We end back in the commonplace too, right -- "Return to the Low?" It is a lot to do in three short phrases.

David R.

I keep thinking about these comments and like a good haiku, they keep deepening for me. I suddenly feel like going back and revising every haiku I have ever written. I should probably just write some new ones. Nice to have you here, Lee.

David R.

Thanks Lee. But you know, it's really just a matter of having been soaked in the stuff for so many years. Like a Japanese pickle . . . goes well with rice.

And Lee, as a dentist, I'm sure you'll appreciate this: I can never remember how many teeth I have in my head. (I have my full "natural" complement, minus the "wisdoms.") Every now and then I'll read or see something that reminds me of the question, and I'll try to remember, and I can't. So I wind up sticking a finger in my mouth and counting. Often I'll get halfway across and lose track and have to start over. Just now I thought of the question again, and my best guess was 26 . . . or maybe 32? Turns out I have 28! Assuming I didn't miscount again, that is.

And come to think of it, 26 is pretty rich too, huh? Duh!

Steve C.