Alaska in Haiku. David Hoopes
Alaska in Haiku
ALASKA
by David Hoopes & Diana Tillion
Illustrated by Diana Tillion
CHARLES E. TUTTLE COMPANY
Rutland, Vermont : Tokyo, Japan
Representatives
For Continental Europe:
BOXERBOOKS, INC., Zurich
For the British Isles:
PRENTICE-HALL INTERNATIONAL, INC., london
For Australasia:
PAUL FLESCH & CO., PTY. LTD., Melbourne
For Canada:
M. G. HURTIG., Edmonton
Published by the Charles E. Tuttle Company, Inc.
of Rutland, Vermont & Tokyo, Japan
with editorial offices at
Osaki Shinagawa-ku, Tokyo 141-0032
Copyright in Japan, 1972
by Charles E. Tuttle Co., Inc.
All rights reserved
Library of Congress Catalog Card No. 77-182061
ISBN: 978-1-4629-1244-5 (ebook)
First printing, 1972
PRINTED IN JAPAN
SPRING
SUMMER
AUTUMN
WINTER
This volume is the result of our mutual admiration of the Japanese haiku form in its concisely poignant appreciation of nature. As Alaskans, and closely related to the land in empathy, we feel that haiku especially lends itself to speak of the essence of Alaska.
THE AUTHORS
SPRING
Spring comes to the world,
A magical wand of life—
That it touched me once!
Beside the snowdrift,
The gray mountain rock is warm
Under the young leaves.
A waxing spring moon
Unfolds its gilded pathway
Upon flooding tides.
A flower's blossom,
The warm laughter of a child—
The wonders of life!
Together now, hands
Held tightly in the moonlight
Catch a new blossom.
Spring winds and warm rains,
Blossoms can begin to grow—
Two new teeth also.
For Tsuneo Nishiyama's first-born
son, 1968.
The robin's spring song—
Clear notes challenging the world.
Now I can sing too.
Time and the river,
Flowing under blossomed boughs,
Never slow their pace.
Random rays of light,
Slipping through the dark forest,
Catch a dogwood's bloom.
Children skipping rope
Beneath the pussy willows—
Spring has found it's way.
Two hands that once picked
A fragile forget-me-not
Touch no longer now.
On the sandy beach
A single track of foot prints—
Long is the spring day.
Now my footsteps cross
Where only winds walked before—
Alpine spring again.
At the clearing's edge,
Through the rising stump-fire smoke,
Young leaves appearing.
The snowcapped peaks
Cause my eyes to lift above
The net I'm mending.
Rain-dampened nights
Carry a sea lion's bellow
To challenge the thaw.
An unscreened window—
Humming unseen past my bed,
The first mosquito!
Mists of dawn dispelled—
Silent canneries await
The first boat of spring.
Green sticky fragrance,
Hands unfolding in the sun,
Birch leaves worship too.
A field of lupine
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