shirojki-no shaso-ni (dare)demo nakunarinu

       --

       winter's breath

       on the train window

       i become a nobody

       --

       Dhugal Lindsay (1971--). From "Mutsugoro" (Mudskipper), Fuyo haiku-kai, 2001.

       This poem dates from 1991, thirty years ago, but it still rings true and fresh. It appeared in the author's 2001 book, "Mutsugoro" (Mudskipper), which won the seventh annual Nakaniida Grand Haiku Prize for best debut haiku collection, the first time the award had ever been won by a non-Japanese poet, competing with other haiku poets composing in Japanese. Readers will know its author as the usual selector, since 2017, of haiku for this column, and it is my pleasure, as guest selector, to honor Dhugal in return. It is a common experience to become introspective when seeing one's breath fog a window, especially on a train, which symbolizes movement and change. Here the poet is lost in the experience. He moves beyond the introspection of thinking about himself and changes into a "nobody," as if he no longer exists in this simple yet transcendent moment. The experience matters more than himself. Even the lowercase "i" points to his welcome disappearing. And is it his breath that has fogged the window, or is this the breath of winter itself? Either way, Dhugal Lindsay has become nobody, like Emily Dickinson, disappearing into the moment.

       Selected and commented on by Michael Dylan Welch

       Font Size S M L Print Timeline 0