The Skylark

Steven Outram

The Skylark

A song alone

comes down - and of the skylark

the last trace is gone.

Ampu

from "An Introduction to Haiku: an anthology of poems and poets from Basho to Shiki" by Harold G. Henderson

 Haiku only seems simple. I know almost nothing about the tradition, but from the little that I’ve read I’ve learned that most significant thing of all - I know almost nothing. In the sense that there are worlds of expression to explore yet. For one thing, that a poem’s art might be in what is not said, or what is there but not said – that’s more what I mean. And the Japanese poets are dedicated students of this. It’s not merely distillation of a thought, it’s getting to that level of writing where each word is a door swinging open to a new place. When it comes to poetry, how many words are enough? Is it possible that what our words have lost is a sense of silence, of falling into depths beyond words? When I read this haiku – a translation, it’s important to remember (a thousand subtleties have been lost) – I hear so many different notes. Loss, loneliness, the song (what is that song - what does it signify?), the element of nature, nature as a foil for human destinies, the qualities of the skylark – the symbolic nature of the bird. And this is without knowing any of the cultural language code being employed. I know so little. I know beauty, though, when I hear it.