Haibun
A Sailor
He appeared
from nowhere asking me for help. What he needed was a list
of Japanese kigo. Later I learned that he was 30
something, a Montenegrin living in Belgrade and on his
duty as a sailor. He would write from time to time... from
Alaska, China, Japan...
Saša
A
sailor’s e-mail
San!
out the ship
window:
all day and night long
autumn sea
I know and I
remember well your letter telling me there had to be at
least one verb in a poem, but this haiku is really a
precedent. And here is why: If I ponder a week back, since
we left the shores of Japan and sailed into the Pacific,
it seems as if time halted. Standing watch twice a day, I
gaze out the window of the wheelhouse trying to create a
haiku, but simply nothing comes of it. Therefore, I start
to devise: winds, waves, sailors, days sinking into the
sea and what not, but something is not correct. To this I
have to add that it has been cloudy during all this cruise
and that I have seen neither the sun nor the moon, nor the
ship, nothing save for that sea (even if I were normal, I
would go crazy:) ). Well now, where do I draw the verb
from?
Simply, no action, so there will be no verb. The kigo is
the autumn sea which, in contrast to the summer’s,
includes something dark and gloomy (this I have copied
from others; I am not that wise), and completely depicts
my (bad) mood. Placing this haiku at the beginning, and
the haibun would be completed. What do you think?
Here, I’ve had a good talk and a one-act play is over.
Damir Damir
***
But the sailor was ‘obedient’ and here is the final
result:
Saša
A Letter
from the Bottle
ship window
I watch the day sinking
in the autumn sea
It's been the
180th day on the water and the foamy trail of my ship is
already 50,000 nautical miles long. Confronted with an
immense blue of the Pacific, I become discouraged and a
blank feeling emerges. Alone in the cabin, I wonder if all
these days have been wasted, and what's even more painful,
sold at a very low price, for a handful of dollars.
But
then...then that moment comes, the moment torn off from
eternity and transformed into 17 syllables giving a new
meaning to everything. That poem as short as a dream
making my reality. That haiku which pushes me on. And then
one more, and one more, and one more.
just the
moonlight
has dyed white
the murmur of the sea wave
Damir Damir
Translated by
Saša Važić
