Poetry of Contrasts

テレビに

大きな根が踊る

零下のマンハッタン

(Terebi ni
Ōkina ne ga odoru
Reika no Manhattan)

"On the television screen,
a great root dances,
Manhattan below zero."

— Ban’ya Natsuishi, 2004, A Future Waterfall

The haiku of Ban’ya Natsuishi pulsates with the collision of worlds – in the television frame, Manhattan transforms into a cold, urban desert, while a great root dances in a surreal, icy dance. It is an image that breaks the convenient boundaries we place between technology and nature, creating a space where these two aspects of reality attempt to coexist. In Natsuishi’s hands, the television becomes a modern window to the world, and haiku – a medium that connects the ephemeral with the eternal, regardless of era. Manhattan, in turn, becomes a landscape of metaphorical winter, where the cold is felt not only in the air but also in human hearts.

Ban’ya Natsuishi, unlike any other, knows how to intertwine contemporary elements with the traditional form of haiku. His work is a conscious play with expectations – instead of following classical canons, he experiments, introducing technology, big cities, artificial lights, and cold steel into his verses, juxtaposing them with nature. In his haiku, Natsuishi does not just describe reality – he deconstructs and rebuilds it, creating new spaces for reflection on the fate of humanity in a world where the nature of existence itself demands redefinition.

In the above haiku, we see Manhattan, cold and alien, and the root – a symbol of depth and life that endures, even when everything around it freezes. Juxtaposed in a surreal, absurd manner. This is the essence of his poetry. Let’s, for a moment, tune into these unusual waves and delve deeper into the haiku we read on our smartphones.

Ban’ya Natsuishi (夏石番矢) – Life and Work

Ban’ya Natsuishi is a unique figure in the contemporary literary scene, especially in the world of haiku. Born in 1955, he is a professor at Meiji University in Tokyo, where he lectures on comparative literature. His deep knowledge of both Japanese literary tradition and the European avant-garde allowed him to create a unique style that merges the classical forms of haiku with modern and postmodern experiments. Natsuishi rejects traditional poetic canons, and his approach to haiku is a conscious deconstruction of form, which opens the space for new interpretations and deeper philosophical reflections.

Founded by Natsuishi in 2000, the World Haiku Association has become a platform for international artistic exchange, connecting haiku poets from different cultures. Thanks to him, haiku, once (seemingly) inseparable from Japanese aesthetics, has become a poetic form open to the perspectives of people from around the globe.

Natsuishi’s philosophy is based on the collision of tradition with modernity. His haiku, often devoid of traditional elements such as kigo (seasonal word), takes place on the plane of the modern world – full of technology, global problems, and existential questions. Natsuishi’s modernist approach not only challenges established haiku frameworks but also provokes reflection on humanity's place in a world where technology and nature are inseparable. His poems, on the one hand, in line with tradition, become a bridge between the eternal and the fleeting, but the poet himself consistently seeks new forms of expression within this philosophical setup, opening haiku to cosmological, political, and social themes.

"Endless Helix" – Emotional Depth

In his haiku, Ban’ya Natsuishi achieves an emotional depth rarely seen, which distinguishes his poetry. His haiku are not merely records of moments of observing nature, as in the traditional form, but become tools for exploring the human psyche, filled with anxiety, fear, and a sense of loss. Collections such as Endless Helix, Hybrid Paradise, and Black Card are filled with haiku that reflect both collective and individual traumas that have affected Japan and the world. One of the central themes running through his poetry is the constant fear of disaster – both natural and man-made. These haiku, with their surprising images, touch upon the deepest aspects of human experience.

In one of his famous haiku:

広島という言葉
蝶より重いか

(Hiroshima to iu kotoba
Chō yori omoi ka)

"The word 'Hiroshima' –
Is it heavier
Than a butterfly?"

— Ban’ya Natsuishi, Endless Helix

Natsuishi reveals the power of symbols and meanings that we carry as a society. "Hiroshima" – a word that carries with it the entire history of pain, destruction, and human suffering – contrasts with the butterfly – fleeting, light, symbolizing delicacy and life. The haiku asks not only about the weight of memory but also how our collective consciousness processes and retains trauma. Is the memory of Hiroshima lighter or heavier than a butterfly? Has our memory of the tragedy transformed into something elusive and fleeting, or has it become unbearably heavy, like a stone we carry within?

Natsuishi often walks the fine line of understanding emotions related to trauma. His poetry acts as a mirror, reflecting those most primal, difficult-to-express feelings. Using simple yet suggestive images, Natsuishi creates a space where fear and uncertainty become palpable. In the haiku about Hiroshima, the question of the weight of memories becomes a question about the human condition in the face of mass destruction – a question that applies to every tragedy that has transformed our society.

In another haiku, Natsuishi touches on the depths of human fear of the unknown:

雲の形を越えて
我々は
記憶を失った

(Kumo no katachi o koete
Wareware wa
Kioku o ushinatta)

"A cloud beyond any shape —
we have lost
our memory."

— Ban’ya Natsuishi, Endless Helix

Here, the image of the shapeless cloud serves as a metaphor for undefined fear of memory loss – whether personal or collective. The cloud, which changes shapes, symbolizes the elusiveness of our memories, their continuous fluidity, and their tendency to blur over time. This haiku opens up a space for reflection on the fragility of our consciousness and the uncertainty with which we face the passage of time. Are we capable of preserving the memory of the most important events, or, like the cloud, will they also dissipate, losing their form?

In Natsuishi’s poetry, it is not just about documenting traumatic events. His haiku refer to the elusive, metaphysical aspect of disasters – both natural and nuclear – that have shaken Japan and the world. In the face of these tragedies, Natsuishi shows that humans cannot fully comprehend or internalize the scale of destruction. His haiku offer only fragments of that experience, allowing us to approach the unspoken, yet they never provide a complete answer. The emotional depth of his verses lies in provoking us to reflect on our fragility and limitations – both individual and collective.

Ban’ya Natsuishi is not afraid to ask difficult questions in his haiku. Can memory be measured in terms of weight? Is it as light as a butterfly, or does it burden us with its weight? His work exudes a deep psychological insight into human nature – how we process and retain memories, how we cope with the fear of the unknown, and how we find meaning in a world full of chaos and destruction.

Experiments with Form: Gendai Haiku

Ban’ya Natsuishi is one of the leading figures in gendai haiku, a modern form of haiku that dares to transcend the boundaries of the traditional style. Unlike classical haiku, which heavily relies on nature motifs and seasonal cycles, gendai haiku discards rigid rules, such as the presence of kigo, a seasonal word. Natsuishi abandons these formal constraints to experiment with language, imagery, and meaning, creating poems full of surprising associations and subversions.

As Adam T. Bogar (a Hungarian haiku poet) observes, Natsuishi takes haiku to entirely new territory, where liberal freedom of expression becomes a tool for building emotional and intellectual landscapes that go far beyond convention. His work, often described as postmodern, navigates the intersection of chaos and order.

An example of bold subversion of meaning is a haiku from Natsuishi's Hybrid Paradise:

激しい風
千匹の鼠が押す
火の車

(Hageshii kaze
Senbiki no nezumi ga osu
Hi no kuruma)

"A violent wind —
a thousand mice push
a fiery cart."

— Ban’ya Natsuishi, Hybrid Paradise

In this haiku, Natsuishi uses surreal images to create an atmosphere of horror and unease. The wind, growing violent, seems like a destructive force, but it is the image of a thousand mice pushing a fiery cart that makes the greatest impression. It is a scene reminiscent of a surreal dream, where natural elements (wind) are combined with symbols of chaos and destruction. The fiery cart, pushed by mice, symbolizes not only annihilation but also dehumanization – mice, usually associated with small, innocent creatures, are here transformed into engines driving catastrophe.

In Natsuishi's haiku, we can sense the influence of European Dadaism and Surrealism. Images that seem absurd or impossible operate on an emotional and subconscious level. A thousand mice pushing a cart of fire evokes a sense of chaos, uncertainty, and loss of control over reality. It is poetry that confronts us with an incomprehensible world, where traditional narratives break down, and humanity, dehumanized and reduced to the role of an observer, cannot find meaning in the surrounding chaos.

The subversion of meaning in Natsuishi’s work is not merely about breaking formal conventions but about expanding the boundaries of what haiku can express. Instead of simple images of nature meant to capture a moment, a "haiku moment," Natsuishi introduces us to a world where images are distorted, and meanings are multi-dimensional. This bold approach makes his gendai haiku move between the borders of chaos and order, dehumanization and renewal, leaving the reader with questions that have no easy answers.

The Weight of Catastrophe – Black Card

Disasters, both natural and nuclear, are in Ban’ya Natsuishi’s poetry more than just descriptions of destruction. In his haiku, they become deep reflections on the fundamental condition of humanity, which, in the face of the forces of nature and technology, becomes helpless, forced to confront its own fragility. Natsuishi does not shy away from brutal images of destruction but weaves in subtle symbolic motifs that reveal the emotional and psychological consequences of these catastrophes. His work, particularly in the collections Endless Helix and Black Card, paints a picture of a world where not only physical destruction but also internal chaos and emotional disorientation are integral elements of modern existence.

In Natsuishi’s haiku, disasters bring not only external devastation but also internal traumas, the depth of which is not always immediately apparent. One haiku that perfectly illustrates this emotional complexity is:

蛇が金色の草を奪った
我々の最初の不幸

(Hebi ga kiniro no kusa o ubatta
Wareware no saisho no fukō)

"The snake stole
the golden grass:
our first unhappiness."

— Ban’ya Natsuishi, Black Card

This haiku, though seemingly simple, carries a rich symbolic weight. The snake, an eternal symbol of sin and betrayal, steals the golden grass – a symbol of life, purity, and hope. This image evokes archetypal motifs, such as the biblical paradise and lost innocence. Natsuishi, in the context of this haiku, does not refer solely to mythology or religion. The golden grass is also a symbol of hope, which humanity loses in the face of catastrophe – both natural and man-made. The snake, which steals, represents not only the force of destruction but also our internal fears and traumas, awakened in the face of inevitable danger.

In this haiku, there is a deep reflection on loss – the first real experience of sorrow that is torn from the heart of a person in the moment of catastrophe. In the context of nuclear disasters, such as those in Hiroshima, Nagasaki, or Fukushima, this haiku takes on even greater significance. The loss of the "golden grass" may symbolize the hope that humanity has once and for all lost at the moment of collision with the destructive force it created. The first unhappiness that Natsuishi writes about is the moment when humanity realizes its responsibility for the catastrophe, while also being helpless in the face of the powerful forces of nature and technology.

In the Black Card collection, nuclear disasters gain an additional emotional dimension. In his dark, often apocalyptic images, Natsuishi shows that humanity is not only the victim but also the author of its own demise. In haiku such as:

草芽
プルトニウムで
豊かに洗礼

(Kusame
Purutoniumu de
Yutaka ni senrei)

"A grass bud
richly baptized
by plutonium."

— Ban’ya Natsuishi, Black Card

We see the irony and horror that accompany the experience of nuclear catastrophe. The grass, which usually symbolizes renewal and life, is here "baptized" by plutonium, an element unequivocally associated with the deadly effects of radiation. It is an image of hope colliding with absolute destruction, where nature, instead of renewing itself, is marked by the permanent scar of human destruction.

Disasters in Natsuishi's haiku are not only external events but also deeply internal traumas that imprint on the human psyche. They are a reminder that humanity, while capable of great technological achievements, is also the author of its own downfall. This experience of grief, which fills his poetry, is an attempt to understand how disasters affect our sense of identity, responsibility, and hope for the future.

The Collision of Beauty and Brutality: A Future Waterfall

The work of Ban’ya Natsuishi juxtaposes two seemingly incompatible worlds: the subtle, ephemeral beauty of nature and the brutal, often bloody reality of civilizational destruction. His haiku from the collection A Future Waterfall captures this contrast in a way that challenges our expectations of haiku – a poetic form often associated with the celebration of nature. For Natsuishi, nature is not a space of harmony but rather a field where the beauty of life is stained by the brutal realities of the modern world. In this way, the poet creates unique, deeply reflective works that reveal the human condition in unexpected ways.

桜散る
新聞が血を
多く吸う

(Sakura chiru
Shinbun ga chi o
Ōku suu)

"Cherry blossoms fall:
newspapers suck in
a great deal of blood."

— Ban’ya Natsuishi, A Future Waterfall

Natsuishi juxtaposes the delicacy of falling cherry blossoms with the brutality of the bloody reality that newspapers absorb – a medium reporting disasters, wars, and social tragedies. On one side, we have an image deeply symbolic for Japanese culture – the falling cherry blossoms, which have always symbolized the transience of life, passing, and the melancholy of the inevitable. On the other side, we have the image of newspapers, which, emotionlessly "sucking in" blood, become a metaphor for not only physical violence but also for the media feeding off sensation and human suffering.

This symbolic confrontation of beauty and cruelty opens up space for deeper reflection. The falling cherry blossoms are not only a metaphor for the fleeting nature of life but also a reminder that nature, despite its beauty, is not free from destruction – both internal and external, brought by civilization. In the context of this haiku, one can sense a sad irony – the delicate, almost innocent cherry blossoms become the backdrop for a merciless reality where violence and suffering are almost an inseparable part of daily life.

As we have already mentioned, Natsuishi’s haiku often juxtaposes these two worlds to emphasize how fragile and fleeting life is in the face of great tragedies and social destruction. The cherry blossoms, traditionally associated with the aesthetic of "mono no aware," here become witnesses to the cruel reality, symbolized by the "blood for sale" that appears in newspaper headlines. In this haiku, Natsuishi challenges the classical view of nature as a place of contemplation, introducing elements of violence and suffering that blur the boundaries between what is natural and what is man-made.

This haiku can also be read as a commentary on the condition of contemporary society, where the media plays a key role in maintaining and transmitting narratives of the world's brutality. The newspapers that "suck in blood" may symbolize our collective fascination with violence and tragedy, where the beauty of life is overshadowed by sensationalized media coverage. Just as the cherry blossoms fall quietly, so too is human life delicate, but this fleetingness is brutally disturbed by the constant influx of sensational news about suffering.

In A Future Waterfall, Natsuishi does not leave us with a clear message. His poetry remains open to diverse interpretations, and the collision of nature's beauty with the brutality of civilization becomes a place for deep reflection on the condition of the modern world. Haiku, which traditionally was meant to bring solace, in Natsuishi’s work becomes a space where the beauty of life is tainted by a bloody reality.

A Vision of the World and Humanity: "Hybrid Paradise"

赤い涙
黒い血
我々の言葉は檻

(Akai namida
Kuroi chi
Wareware no kotoba wa ori)

"Red tears,
black blood,
our language is a cage."

— Ban’ya Natsuishi, Hybrid Paradise

In this haiku, Natsuishi presents language as a metaphorical cage that traps our emotions, thoughts, and experiences. Red tears and black blood symbolize deep pain and suffering associated with apocalyptic events, such as nuclear disasters, wars, and natural catastrophes. The colors—red and black—carry strong emotional connotations. The redness of the tears suggests the intensity of suffering, while the blackness of the blood speaks to the loss of life and hope. Natsuishi creates an image in which not only humanity but also human communication itself is insufficient in the face of such events.

The symbolism of language as a cage opens the door to reflections on how limited our ability is to express the depth of our feelings. Natsuishi’s haiku focuses on emotions that are difficult to convey with words, especially in the context of great disasters. In such moments, language becomes a tool that not only limits us but isolates us from fully understanding and feeling. The trauma that Natsuishi writes about is not merely physical pain but an internal struggle with the limitations of language—our inability to fully convey the pain we carry.

In a world where suffering and tragedy are inseparable from our existence, we are often forced into silence or resort to automated phrases that fail to capture the fullness of our experiences. Language, which was meant to be our tool, transforms into an enclosed space that restricts our understanding of both the world and ourselves. This symbolic imprisonment by language suggests that our attempts to describe reality after a catastrophe may only bring us closer to the surface, leaving deeper emotions elusive and ungraspable.

The world portrayed in Hybrid Paradise is a place where logic and order have been replaced by chaos, and humanity, though equipped with tools to understand this chaos, remains powerless. Natsuishi’s existential reflection on language as a cage is not only a commentary on contemporary communication problems but also a deep meditation on the position of humanity in the face of inevitable tragedies.

What remains after reading these haiku is the awareness that in a world broken into fragments, both our emotions and our ability to express them are shattered into tiny pieces—too small to capture the whole of the experience.

Step into haiku’s future

Ban’ya Natsuishi’s work is a bold step into the future of haiku, demonstrating that even the oldest poetic forms can adapt to a changing world. His experiments with gendai haiku, in which he discards traditional kigo and opens up to contemporary themes, show that haiku still has much to explore. Natsuishi introduces modern elements, such as technology, large cities, and nuclear disasters, giving them poetic meaning and depth that provoke both awe and unease in the reader. He is an artist unafraid to ask difficult questions—about our identity, memory, and responsibility for the world we have created.

His haiku are a mirror reflecting both the beauty and brutality of our world. Natsuishi’s poems go beyond simple descriptions of nature, exploring not only external landscapes but also the inner spaces of the human psyche. Trauma, loss, dehumanization, and the unending search for meaning—these themes run through his work, urging reflection on humanity’s place in a world full of chaos and destruction. Natsuishi proves that haiku can be a vessel for profound emotions and philosophical reflections, without losing its form or ephemeral nature.

His work ushers haiku into a new era, where the mono no aware aesthetic merges with apocalyptic themes, and language becomes both a tool of expression and a conscious limitation. Natsuishi has inspired many poets around the world, showing that poetry, regardless of cultural context, can be the voice of our shared, global existence.

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 A connoisseur of Asian culture with a deep-seated appreciation for various philosophies of the world. By education, psychologist and Korean philologist. By heart, an Android developer and an ardent tech aficionado. In tranquil moments, he champions a disciplined way of life, firmly believing that steadfastness, perpetual self-enhancement, and a dedication to one's passions is a sensible path for life.

Personnal Motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest."  - Albert Einstein (possibly)

  Mike Soray

(aka Michał Sobieraj)

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