nest in the eaves -
the old lady watching more often
along the way
This is the way suggestion and slippage work in a good poem. Here we do not need an explicit kigo – spring is here and the nest in the eaves automatically enters its role awaiting the return of the birds. And everything skids: the longing and the expectations of the old woman fold over those of nature. Why would the outcasts in the world not return to the nest also?
white sheet -
a feather brought by the wind
sits down at the writing desk
Why does the white field need to be full with black sheep? An excuse, a reason, a lyrical pulse that is suddenly there before us just like the feather brought up by the wind. A haiku moment where something moves in the soul to inspire the hand ready to start work.
off the doll in the old attic -
The March wind - the impulse that sets the world into motion. It cleans up trees, tearing up the dead branches. It breathes life into the buds. It causes the water’s surface, hitherto placid, to curl. Why wouldn’t the forgotten doll in the attic wake up the childhood that can always be resurrected in our souls filled with the happiness of spring?
behind the casemate
Rodica P. Calotă
If I wait partiently and follow attentively the thoughts that the poem awakens in me, I understand that the meaning is most certainly a malicious one. The coverage, a military term menaing to defend, to protect the withdrawal or advance of the combatants, is derided and skids into the idea that snowdrops are hidden there, behind the bunker, which is useless now, in times of peace. There, laymen will not see it, only professional wanderers will notice and appreciate it.
organ concert -
through gutters and drainpipes
sound of rain
To be in full concert what it takes is more than a mere assimilation of organ pipes with gutters and drainpipes? Rain is a genius organist and, although it always improvises on the same subject, it never repeats the same concert. You just need to listen to it patiently and ... with fervor.
casa natală -
doar un cais sprijinind
cerul plin de flori
only an apricot tree supporting
the sky full of flowers
The word only contradicts the first verse. The house, most likely, has disappeared. What we have left is only the spot where there was a house. But the place does not refute anything, it remains miraculous. And, as always, the apricot is an axis mundi. This is why, no doubt, every house is blessed.
Corneliu Traian Atanasiu