A Gentle Japanese Rain In Autumn (Photo Essay)

Autumn (aki) in Japanese poetry oftentimes represents death so naturally you find many references to it in Death Poems (jisei), usually written just before dying or when one expects to very possibly die (as in an upcoming battle). But death can also mean renewal and the Autumn Equinox is a national holiday in Japan. So do not see references to autumnal deaths as a finality, but rather as another door to pass through, another flavor to savor.

It has been very hot these last few weeks in Dallas and the autumn colors are late in arriving. Think of this as more of a sneak preview because I will return when the colors blaze forth in their full glory. I made a mad dash on a rainy day, for as the great bbd pointed out, you can use the clouds as a giant diffuser. That made for some interesting shots.

I have interspersed some Japanese death poems along the way, to serenade you, to grieve you, and to chuckle you even.

The great poet monk Timosan was asked which of his poems was his death poem.
"All of them!" he replied.


I was greeted by this tiny friend


Sprinkles on a path to a sheltered bench



Not knowing
that my body lies
upon Mount Kamo's rocks,
my love
awaits me.


No shadows from the rocks





This world -
to what may I liken it?
To autumn fields
lit dimly in the dusk
by lightening flashes.


I named him Tsubasa, which means "wings"


Kaeda


The great Gracia Hosokawa, whom I never fail to visit

Should someone ask
where Sokan went,
just say,
"He had some business
in the other world."




On a recent trip to a photo exhibit at the Amon Carter, I was reminded
that in art as well as knife fights, there are no rules.
The clearest shot is not always the best.


Peeking through bridge rails

The sharp-edged sword, unsheathed,
Cuts through the void -
Within the raging fire
A cool wind blows.







The man I loved
refused to hear
my pleadings -
he abandoned me and now
my life fades away.






Your photographer in reflection

Before long
I shall be a ghost
but just now
how they bite my flesh!
the winds of autumn.






Yes, it's sideways. Just take in the colors as if on a canvass.

If I leave
no trace behind
in this fleeting world
what then could you
reproach?







Bury me when I die
beneath a wine barrel
in a tavern.
With luck
the cask will leak.


Merely tinged by autumn




One tree is on the ball!

One day you are born
you die the next -
today,
at twilight,
autumn breezes blow.


I always ignored the gift shop before.
I decided that was a mistake.





Like a rotten log
half-buried in the ground -
my life, which
has not flowered, comes
to this sad end.


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