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I Wait for the Moon: 100 Haiku of Momoko Kuroda
Momoko Kuroda (b. 1938) is a remarkable haiku spirit and a powerfully independent Japanese woman. The one hundred poems here—her first collection in English—show her evolution as a poet, her acute lyricism, and her engagement as a writer in issues central to modern postwar identity, nuclear politics, and Fukushima. Abigail Friedman's introduction and textual commentaries provide important background and superb insight into poetic themes and craft. I wait for fireflies / I wait as if for someone / who will never return Momoko Kuroda is one of Japan's most well-known haiku poets. Abigail Friedman lives near Washington, DC, and is author of The Haiku Apprentice .
144 pages, Paperback
First published September 22, 2014
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
July 28, 2019
This is a sweet little collection of 100 haikus, with themes of modern Japan, connected to the Japan of the past in many places. The translator herself is a haiku writer, has met the author, and here offers also a good introduction and background explanation for many poems. The poems are grouped under several themes.
flowers must be opening -
in the pre-dawn darkness
the tinkling of a bell
The author has released 6 haiku collections (some unreleased ones are also included in our collection), received awards, been on tv and haiku contest juries, and arranged walking tours with her haiku groups.
this town
where the dark sea roars -
I buy a diary
Although I was left with a slight feeling of needing more, this was still satisfying. You might end up wanting to know enough Japanese to read her collections! But this was very stylish, good introduction, and one does learn more about Japanese culture background through the commentaries (which also clear some of the haikus more). Some were very moving, and many had great feel of atmophere. Well worth reading.
flowers must be opening -
in the pre-dawn darkness
the tinkling of a bell
The author has released 6 haiku collections (some unreleased ones are also included in our collection), received awards, been on tv and haiku contest juries, and arranged walking tours with her haiku groups.
this town
where the dark sea roars -
I buy a diary
Although I was left with a slight feeling of needing more, this was still satisfying. You might end up wanting to know enough Japanese to read her collections! But this was very stylish, good introduction, and one does learn more about Japanese culture background through the commentaries (which also clear some of the haikus more). Some were very moving, and many had great feel of atmophere. Well worth reading.
January 8, 2020
I wait for fireflies
I wait as if for someone
who will never return
From I Wait for the Moon: 100 Haiku of Momoko Kuroda, translated from the Japanese with commentary by Abigail Freidman // 2014 Stone Bridge Press
I stumbled across some of Kuroda's haiku poems last year during August's #witmonth, and made note to return to this collection (available on @hoopladigital book through public libraries!) for #JanuaryinJapan. Using the traditional haiku constructions (5-7-5) her content and themes explore beyond the classical nature of haiku. For instance, this haiku and several others written after the 2011 earthquake, tsunami, and Fukushima meltdown:
When the sea roars
blossoms are no longer
people are no longer
Abigail Friedman worked closely with Kuroda during the translation process, and in this collection, with full biographical and contextual commentary for each haiku, Friedman paints a detailed picture of this unique firm of Japanese poetry, the nuanced word choices and meter, the symbolism, as well as the spirit of an award-winning and popular poet. Kuroda displays her respect and honor to past poetic forms, as well as her adventurous spirit into her own variations.
In this life, I've grown
accustomed to the lightning
accustomed to the journey
I wait as if for someone
who will never return
From I Wait for the Moon: 100 Haiku of Momoko Kuroda, translated from the Japanese with commentary by Abigail Freidman // 2014 Stone Bridge Press
I stumbled across some of Kuroda's haiku poems last year during August's #witmonth, and made note to return to this collection (available on @hoopladigital book through public libraries!) for #JanuaryinJapan. Using the traditional haiku constructions (5-7-5) her content and themes explore beyond the classical nature of haiku. For instance, this haiku and several others written after the 2011 earthquake, tsunami, and Fukushima meltdown:
When the sea roars
blossoms are no longer
people are no longer
Abigail Friedman worked closely with Kuroda during the translation process, and in this collection, with full biographical and contextual commentary for each haiku, Friedman paints a detailed picture of this unique firm of Japanese poetry, the nuanced word choices and meter, the symbolism, as well as the spirit of an award-winning and popular poet. Kuroda displays her respect and honor to past poetic forms, as well as her adventurous spirit into her own variations.
In this life, I've grown
accustomed to the lightning
accustomed to the journey
December 28, 2020
end of the year that thing called moonbathing . . .
ゆく年の月光浴といふものを
yukutoshi no gekkō yoku to iu mono o
[…] Momoko’s haiku draws on a different season word, emphasizing not the brief moment of change from one year to the next but the gradual ending of the year. She is languorous in her haiku, soaking in the moonlight, relishing the last few evenings under the December moon.
October 27, 2014
We think we know haiku. It's the short-short form of poetry based on seventeen syllables in a 5/7/5 line length, usually an observation of nature. It's poetry of the moment, dashed off quickly, not serious writing.
Wrong. Haiku is so much more—which is only one of the surprises in this beautiful small volume of haiku from one of Japan's most renowned poets, Momoko Kuroda, translated with insightful commentary by Abigail Friedman, a career U.S. diplomat who studied with Kuroda when Friedman lived in Japan.
Like the haiku it centers on, I Wait for the Moon cannot be summed up in simple terms. The hundred poems Friedman chooses take readers on a journey through life, writing, Japan, and the evolution of one woman's resonant writing voice.
Haiku, it turns out, are limited to 17 units, not syllables: the units are 17 sounds of Japanese Kanji, the pictorial letterforms. The line lengths are not a prescribed 5/7/5; rather they are signaled by grammatical breaks or kireji, the word that signals a "cut" or turn, a surprise in the haiku.
The point of delving into haiku form is not to mess with reader's heads, but to show the intricacy in those seventeen beats, details that make this form of poetry far more challenging and meaningful than most people realize.
Take this early Kuroda haiku:
Simply a powerful observation of a moment, it seems, until Friedman comments:
Friedman shows Kuroda's decades-long evolution from a classical poet of haiku, based on reporting or observation, to a poet whose haiku are deeply reflective. The changes in the poet's writing voice were sharpened by the events of March 11, 2011, when the most powerful earthquake ever recorded in Japan struck the country's northern coast, followed by a devastating tsunami and the man-made devastation at the Fukushima nuclear power plant went into meltdown.
Friedman writes:
I Wait for the Moon is haiku at its richest, an exploration of life and our lives through the voice of a justifiably revered poet and her insightful student. The book itself honors the poetic form; it is carefully crafted and beautiful in its details, inviting readers to savor the words—and wisdom within.
by Susan J. Tweit
for Story Circle Book Reviews
reviewing books by, for, and about women
Wrong. Haiku is so much more—which is only one of the surprises in this beautiful small volume of haiku from one of Japan's most renowned poets, Momoko Kuroda, translated with insightful commentary by Abigail Friedman, a career U.S. diplomat who studied with Kuroda when Friedman lived in Japan.
Like the haiku it centers on, I Wait for the Moon cannot be summed up in simple terms. The hundred poems Friedman chooses take readers on a journey through life, writing, Japan, and the evolution of one woman's resonant writing voice.
Haiku, it turns out, are limited to 17 units, not syllables: the units are 17 sounds of Japanese Kanji, the pictorial letterforms. The line lengths are not a prescribed 5/7/5; rather they are signaled by grammatical breaks or kireji, the word that signals a "cut" or turn, a surprise in the haiku.
The point of delving into haiku form is not to mess with reader's heads, but to show the intricacy in those seventeen beats, details that make this form of poetry far more challenging and meaningful than most people realize.
Take this early Kuroda haiku:
underground passage/
there's a wind rushing by—/
the calendar seller
Simply a powerful observation of a moment, it seems, until Friedman comments:
"As is so often the case with haiku, it is the unstated which completes the poem. We must divine the sound of calendar pages fluttering and flapping in the wind, drawing Momoko's attention to the calendar stall. Here, everything is in motion—the poet walking through the passageway, the wind, the pages of the calendars, and time itself (the calendar being a symbol of tempus fugit)."
Friedman shows Kuroda's decades-long evolution from a classical poet of haiku, based on reporting or observation, to a poet whose haiku are deeply reflective. The changes in the poet's writing voice were sharpened by the events of March 11, 2011, when the most powerful earthquake ever recorded in Japan struck the country's northern coast, followed by a devastating tsunami and the man-made devastation at the Fukushima nuclear power plant went into meltdown.
deep beneath the sea/
upon those in deepest sleep/
cherry blossoms fall
Friedman writes:
Momoko believes the triple disaster changed not only the lives of the victims, but everyone's lives. She felt that she needed to achieve a 'self-revolution.' She set about contributing to the revival and rebuilding effort through her role as a haiku selector [she was asked to encourage locals to write haiku about the events]. ... Momoko urged contributors to write about their painful experiences. (Specifying such a request was particularly necessary as the cultural norm in Japan would be for victims to try not to burden others with their pain.) She embraced the idea that haiku did not have to be about the blessings of nature. She confessed regret and shame at having failed to heed early critics of nuclear power, and she took a public stand along with other artists against nuclear power. Looking back, Momoko believes that the events of March 11, 2011, forced a transformation within her, altering her perspective on life and nature, as well as haiku.
the early rising bamboo partridge calls to those no longer alive
I Wait for the Moon is haiku at its richest, an exploration of life and our lives through the voice of a justifiably revered poet and her insightful student. The book itself honors the poetic form; it is carefully crafted and beautiful in its details, inviting readers to savor the words—and wisdom within.
by Susan J. Tweit
for Story Circle Book Reviews
reviewing books by, for, and about women
December 21, 2014
I Wait for the Moon is a lovely compilation of Momoko Kuroda's work that can be enjoyed by haiku lovers and novices a like. Kuroda's poems are evocative, and she possess such a range in topics that she is able to bring to life in a few short lines. My favorite section of the book is "Deep Beneath the Sea," which is a sub-collection about the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake, tsunami and the Fukushima nuclear disaster. She juxtaposes the flora of Japan while capturing the heartbreak of the survivors who lost family members and their livelihoods.
The work of editor Abigail Friedman is also much appreciated because she provides as much and as little information about Kuroda so that the reader can interpret their own meaning from the haikus on their own. Friedman also provides context to her translations and certain Japanese figures, which is helpful for readers who have never heard of Kuroda or know little about Japanese culture.
Overall, this book is a good introduction for American readers to Kuroda and haiku.
The work of editor Abigail Friedman is also much appreciated because she provides as much and as little information about Kuroda so that the reader can interpret their own meaning from the haikus on their own. Friedman also provides context to her translations and certain Japanese figures, which is helpful for readers who have never heard of Kuroda or know little about Japanese culture.
Overall, this book is a good introduction for American readers to Kuroda and haiku.
October 22, 2014
This was one of the most beautifully put together and informative poetry collections I've ever read. The author/editor/compiler of haikus managed to explain things without taking the magic away from the original poem. Will definitely be adding this to our poetry library.
July 1, 2022
This was a lovely collection, along with commentary helpful in understanding cultural references. (I was not familiar with Momoko Kuroda before reading this.)
Perhaps my favorite in the collection...
rain lifting
a heron spreads its wings
above the waterfall
Perhaps my favorite in the collection...
rain lifting
a heron spreads its wings
above the waterfall
August 26, 2023
I only actually liked or would share the title poem. The poems, as written (and they're translated accurately and well), are very Japanese. A lot of insider knowledge of Japanese culture, especially from a female perspective, is needed to really "get" them. Fortunately, the translator provides this. I liken the experience to looking at abstract paintings where they don't really speak to me, but then when they're explained to me, my appreciation grows and I love them, even if I don't want one on my own wall.
The translator supplements the poems with excerpts from interviews with the author, other poems she wrote that complement the ones here, haiku from other authors she's paying an homage, historical context, etc.
In other words, it's a book not for general audiences but for those who love haiku and love seeing the Zen aspect of haiku applied to daily female life, something rarely captured in most Western books of haiku and haiku translations. I loved it.
A typical entry, with the haiku at top and an explanation that follows:
at this temple
by the edge of the lake
I wait for the moon
Momoko wrote this haiku at Miidera temple, on the shore of Lake Biwa. It evokes the stillness of an evening, and the spiritual feeling of being at a temple on the shores of a quiet lake. In reading a haiku, our job is not merely to decipher what the poet meant but to make it our own. Here again, Momoko is in a dialogue with a host of spiritual guides, other haiku poets, and loved ones, some still on this earth, but many more not. Perhaps Momoko is alluding to Bashō, who composed a poem using the same season word, at the same temple, by the same lake, under the very same autumn moon: Miidera temple/ I am tempted to knock at the gate/ today’s moon
Bashō, too, is part of a web of allusion. In this case, his poem refers back to one by the Tang-dynasty poet Jia Dao: “Birds rest in the trees by the pond / A monk knocks on the gate under the moon.”
Momoko is waiting for the same moon that illuminated the way for Bashō. The moon that inspired Ippen and Kūkai, the moon that enlightens. We do not know what the moon will bring. Momoko invites us to look up at the sky and to wait, with her, for the moon.
The translator supplements the poems with excerpts from interviews with the author, other poems she wrote that complement the ones here, haiku from other authors she's paying an homage, historical context, etc.
In other words, it's a book not for general audiences but for those who love haiku and love seeing the Zen aspect of haiku applied to daily female life, something rarely captured in most Western books of haiku and haiku translations. I loved it.
A typical entry, with the haiku at top and an explanation that follows:
at this temple
by the edge of the lake
I wait for the moon
Momoko wrote this haiku at Miidera temple, on the shore of Lake Biwa. It evokes the stillness of an evening, and the spiritual feeling of being at a temple on the shores of a quiet lake. In reading a haiku, our job is not merely to decipher what the poet meant but to make it our own. Here again, Momoko is in a dialogue with a host of spiritual guides, other haiku poets, and loved ones, some still on this earth, but many more not. Perhaps Momoko is alluding to Bashō, who composed a poem using the same season word, at the same temple, by the same lake, under the very same autumn moon: Miidera temple/ I am tempted to knock at the gate/ today’s moon
Bashō, too, is part of a web of allusion. In this case, his poem refers back to one by the Tang-dynasty poet Jia Dao: “Birds rest in the trees by the pond / A monk knocks on the gate under the moon.”
Momoko is waiting for the same moon that illuminated the way for Bashō. The moon that inspired Ippen and Kūkai, the moon that enlightens. We do not know what the moon will bring. Momoko invites us to look up at the sky and to wait, with her, for the moon.
January 8, 2025
Abril Friedman translated and wrote a lovely book about Momoda Kurosawa and explained what some symbols and words mean in Japanese and why they are important in the culture.
It’s a wonderful modern collection and quasi biography. She’s a wonderful Haiku writer. After the tsunami in Japan at the nuclear power plant Modada offered Haiku workshops for people to express the grief or whatever they needed to do to help themselves heal and go on with life. Thousands died; many were never found in the waters. Haiku was not usually used for darkness or grief, but for beautiful and positive things in the world that they people were aware of. These workshops helpful to the people in the area and throughout Japan because it was such a dreadful even and so many people lost their lives. Omni of the other things that she did which was not normal for women to do was to follow in the footsteps of Basho as a walking pilgrim. She took others sometimes on the tour so that they would have this experience too, and be close to nature and inspired by it, she’s very much an individual in Japanese culture because these are things that women do not normally do and she also taught at the University and it was well-known for her Haiku skills and way of writing Haiku, which is very different at times than the Masters. I was delighted to learn about her life.and to read her haiku.Ms Friedman Wonderful job the book.
It’s a wonderful modern collection and quasi biography. She’s a wonderful Haiku writer. After the tsunami in Japan at the nuclear power plant Modada offered Haiku workshops for people to express the grief or whatever they needed to do to help themselves heal and go on with life. Thousands died; many were never found in the waters. Haiku was not usually used for darkness or grief, but for beautiful and positive things in the world that they people were aware of. These workshops helpful to the people in the area and throughout Japan because it was such a dreadful even and so many people lost their lives. Omni of the other things that she did which was not normal for women to do was to follow in the footsteps of Basho as a walking pilgrim. She took others sometimes on the tour so that they would have this experience too, and be close to nature and inspired by it, she’s very much an individual in Japanese culture because these are things that women do not normally do and she also taught at the University and it was well-known for her Haiku skills and way of writing Haiku, which is very different at times than the Masters. I was delighted to learn about her life.and to read her haiku.Ms Friedman Wonderful job the book.
November 3, 2018
A new haiku favorite, with a perfectly suited translator. We can see the original Japanese, and Abigail Friedman often explains why she made the choices she did in translating, or she gives some personal information about Momoko's state of mind when she wrote the haiku, or she offers a contrast with a classic haiku. I cried during the chapter Deep Beneath the Sea, which deals with the Great East Japan Earthquake.
April 15, 2015
Goodreads Giveaway. An interesting and informative little book on Haiku's and their translations.
August 6, 2024
"an early rising/ woman pilgrim - / so that's who I am"
February 9, 2020
I’m a big fan of haikus because they’re not overwritten- it’s what’s left unsaid that creates so much from so little. This collection: I Wait for the Moon: 100 Haiku of Momoko Kuroda was translated by Kuroda’s apprentice, Abigail Friedman, a retired diplomat who began composing in a haiku group that met at the foot of Mt. Fuji, led by Kuroda. Talk about doing the foreigner abroad thing right! Friedman wrote a book, The Haiku Apprentice: Memoirs of Writing Poetry in Japan about it all and I’m definitely adding that to my TBR list after finishing this!
Fun fact: Momoko Kuroda worked her entire career in an advertising firm and somehow I find this very fitting for a haiku poet. They convey SO MUCH with so little!
Fun fact: Momoko Kuroda worked her entire career in an advertising firm and somehow I find this very fitting for a haiku poet. They convey SO MUCH with so little!
August 13, 2024
The translator is definitely very knowledgeable about poetry and haiku, but I felt like her understanding of translation and language did not quite match the exceptional caliber of her understanding of poetry. The translations weren't bad, and I'm sure it was difficult to convey Japanese haiku in English, but sometimes I felt a sort of dissonance. I also felt that something about the format made reading this book clunky and choppy, and it was hard to take in the collection as a whole. I don't know if that's because of the explanation or the way the original Japanese and romaji transliteration were set up, but it was something I thought about a lot while reading this.
February 16, 2024
Highly recommended for anyone studying haiku
If you call yourself a haiku writer, or want to understand haiku to the fullest, read this book. The poems are wonderful, as are the discussions around them, which provide personal, historical, and literary context as well as explanations for the translation process. There is also a great bibliography for further reading.
If you call yourself a haiku writer, or want to understand haiku to the fullest, read this book. The poems are wonderful, as are the discussions around them, which provide personal, historical, and literary context as well as explanations for the translation process. There is also a great bibliography for further reading.
August 26, 2024
The three haikus that touched my heart were these 🥹 and they made the whole reading experience worthwhile.
The great waterfall,
Breaks in upon the echo,
Of the moon
…
I wait for fireflies,
I wait as if for someone,
Who will never return.
…
By the edge of the lake,
I wait for the moon
The great waterfall,
Breaks in upon the echo,
Of the moon
…
I wait for fireflies,
I wait as if for someone,
Who will never return.
…
By the edge of the lake,
I wait for the moon
October 23, 2024
under a single lamp sits
an old woman alone—
evening of fireflies.
*
ripe peaches
from this tree, from that tree
right in my hands.
*
i take a yuzu bath
tomorrow’s tomorrow
just thinking…
*
white leek
—a beam of light—
now i chop it.
*
the rhododendron
—nobody knows
its age.
*
i open a fig
my violet mother
opens to me.
*
suffused in moonlight
—image of the buddha
entering nirvana.
an old woman alone—
evening of fireflies.
*
ripe peaches
from this tree, from that tree
right in my hands.
*
i take a yuzu bath
tomorrow’s tomorrow
just thinking…
*
white leek
—a beam of light—
now i chop it.
*
the rhododendron
—nobody knows
its age.
*
i open a fig
my violet mother
opens to me.
*
suffused in moonlight
—image of the buddha
entering nirvana.
February 16, 2019
The mob ing and thought- provoking haiku, in both the original Japanese and translated English, are written by Japan’s premier haiku poet and translated by her friend.
The explanations and backstories provide good insight.
The explanations and backstories provide good insight.
July 12, 2021
There is power in few words (and syllables).
June 26, 2024
What a pleasant surprise; really enjoyed this volume of exquisite contemporary haiku's.
when the sea roars
blossoms are no longer
people are no longer
the rhododendron—
nobody knows its age
I roam this world yet a bit longer—
cherry blossom pilgrimage
when the sea roars
blossoms are no longer
people are no longer
the rhododendron—
nobody knows its age
I roam this world yet a bit longer—
cherry blossom pilgrimage
November 21, 2014
A Goodreads First Reads giveaway win! This is a beautiful, and beautifully put together, little collection. I've always liked haiku. These are translated from the original Japanese, and the translator (Abigail Friedman) does a marvelous job. She doesn't opt for literal translations (as one cannot do with poetry) and doesn't attempt to make the English translations fit the 5-7-5 syllable format (the Japanese generally conforms to it). How do I know all this? Because in addition to Momoko's poems, she includes wonderful explanations for most of the poems, as well as presenting them also with the Japanese characters and the English-letter version of the Japanese language (if that makes sense; I don't have my terminology correct). So not only was I able to enjoy the haiku (which are quite lovely), but also to learn a bit more about the meaning behind each one and a little bit about Japanese culture and history. Wonderful.
December 12, 2014
I received this book for free through a Goodreads first reader giveaway.
Haiku is such a beautiful medium, and both the poet and the translator work with it well in this collection. I very much appreciated the commentaries as well, as they helped make the poems more real and meaningful to me as a non Japanese speaker.
Haiku is such a beautiful medium, and both the poet and the translator work with it well in this collection. I very much appreciated the commentaries as well, as they helped make the poems more real and meaningful to me as a non Japanese speaker.
May 30, 2015
One thing I learned is that some Japanese letters have long sounds making them two syllables. A good book on an author I didn't know. Many haiku were commented on and these are worth the cost of the book.
Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews