The Wall

In order for it not to be just a bland poem depicting an atmosphere, a haiku should contain at least a hint — however vague — of the human presence. That way, it can aim toward transfiguration, allegory, or a parable.

maple leaf

not finishing its flight –

the whiteness of a Wall

(Eduard Țară)

Here, the human element doesn’t continue the reverie prompted by the autumn flight of the leaf. On the contrary, it bluntly blocks it — without any comment. Flat, expressionless.

The impression is that of a prison wall that forbids any emotional color. It immediately shuts it down. Locking it away.

What is the text about? Its speech isn’t univocal. A leaf and a wall are evoked. But the wording is allusive. It doesn't declaim rhetorically and it allows — in fact, it invites — the reader to explore other meanings. The leaf’s act and the statement about it become metaphorical. The flight is actually a lyrical gliding toward death. The wall points more to the whiteness, to the refusal of participation, to the incapacity to share any emotion. The two juxtaposed images express a relationship of opposition, of contrast.

Of course, if one were to stretch things, the whiteness of the wall could be seen as an invitation to carve into it the story of the leaf. But that would be bordering on nonsense.

It’s never a bad thing to return and feel just how true the collateral meanings of words can be.

At first, I thought of a prison, but now I feel that the implied Romanian interjection “zdup” (slang for jail) as a slam-down also halts any lyrical impulse of the leaf. It smashes the spell and the charm.

(Comment by Corneliu Traian Atanasiu)