Two Tanka by Jun Fujita

November

by Jun Fujita

On a pale sandhill

A bare tree stands;

The death-wind

Has snatched the last few leaves.

A Leaf

by Jun Fujita

The November sky without a star

Droops low over the midnight street;

On the pale pavement, cautiously

A leaf moves.

These poems appeared in the June 1921 issue of Poetry.

From the Academy of American Poets: "The tanka is a thirty-one-syllable poem, traditionally written in a single unbroken line. A form of waka, Japanese song or verse, tanka translates as “short song,” and is better known in its five-line, 5/7/5/7/7 syllable count form." Click here for more on this form.

This poet lived from 1888-1963. Born in Japan, he immigrated to Canada as a teen and then the United States. Besides being a poet, he was an actor in silent films, an artist, and a photographer. The National Park Service has a page with some of his photos and a wonderful biography about Fujita; click here for that.

"November" literally gives me a chill each time I read it. For me, the "death-wind" and the act of snatching (the word snatch has negative connotations and even its sound is harsh and foreboding) create a scene that goes beyond a lyric moment looking at a tree.

The same deepening unease comes through in "A Leaf." A very dark sky--not even a star--and midnight set us up. Then a single leaf moving . . . cautiously. How frightening is that? What could a leaf be afraid of? The dark? Something else?

I am always amazed by poets who can get so much across in a small space, the poems that are descriptive and show us, guide us, to feel or think this or that. Short Japanese forms do this; we are sometimes taught that Japanese poetry is about nature, but we are not taught that it must also go beyond that. (Also, the syllabic count is traditional, but is definitely not a hard and fast rule.)

I hope these poems make you re-think the innocence of the wind or the fears of leaves!