A haiku describes an event or an occurrence that you observe.
Therefore, when you write it up, a haiku becomes "a moment verbally taken
out of time."
A haiku shows connection with nature. That is the reason why
almost all haiku are directly related to a particular season. The Japanese
recognize five seasons, which I divide into the four "natural seasons"
(spring, summer, fall, winter) and one "cultural season" (New Year). In
Japan, New Year is now celebrated according to the Gregorian calendar, but
in older times, New Year marked the end of winter and the beginning of
spring. In the occidental world, the events connected with Advent,
Christmas, and New Year could be considered the equivalent of this cultural
season, "new beginning."
A haiku consists of 17 syllables in the entire poem. It has no
title or headline. (An introductory "headline" would have to be counted as
part of these 17 syllables.) Traditionally, the first and third lines have
five syllables each, while the second line has seven syllables. The
Japanese definition of a syllable is somewhat different from ours, a fact
which has led to some discussion about whether the Western haiku should
follow "the 17 syllables rule." Some of this discussion is indeed
interesting and worth pursuing, but for all practical purposes it is
certainly not wrong, if not even advisable, to organize one's haiku in
three lines with 5, 7, 5 syllables.
When writing haiku, don't fall into the trap of trying to give an
event your personal interpretation. Describe the event as concisely as
possible. Give the event its precise representation in language.
Always check whether you might have said something twice
("autumnal" + "turning leaves"; "Easter" + "first flowers", "harvesting [+]
golden corn"). Of course, you can "harvest golden corn," but know 1. what
you are doing, namely that you are using a trite expression, and 2. that
the farmers, who are professionals and know what they are doing, "harvest
corn."
Though words can be repeated within a haiku, no word in a
successful haiku has the same meaning when it is repeated (Bashô: I am in
Kyoto. / But when the cuckoo's crying, / I long for Kyoto [Ich bin in
Kyoto. / Doch ruft der Kuckuck, sehne / ich mich nach Kyoto]).
Don't ostentatiously bring the "I" into a haiku. The real world,
the world we share with all others is the material for haiku, not the
esoteric, the exotic, the private and the personally unique. Good style in
Japanese avoids drawing undue attention to oneself. Good style in Western
languages, however, might require the grammatical subject "I" (because
leaving it out might suggest abruptness, but if that's not intended, the
use of "I" is, of course, acceptable). Note that an undue "I" can slip
into texts under many disguises, for example, when the writer personifies
natural phenomena: "Trees turning their leaves, / speaking of their last
beauty, ..." (the appearance of the trees tells the individual author
something, but trees don't stand around talking about beauty), or with
comparisons that only the author can make: "... trees turning leaves fast,
as if / there were no time left," or adverbially: "...old trees bending
mournfully / in the autumn wind."
Therefore, walk through the world not only with your eyes open, but
with all your senses alert to the world's reality. Experience this reality
to its fullest. The encouragement to put moments of this reality into
words and thus give them some permanence, that's a gift of Japan to the
world. (And the ability to see more of this reality than meets the
mindlessly used eye is a gift of Western science that the good haiku writer
is also thankful for!)
Realize the importance of haiku writing to the people of Japan.
This part of their culture is certainly something that contributes to the
mental stability of those who actively participate in haiku (as
participation in religious ceremonies and cultural events such as concerts,
theater, choir singing, reading, keeping a diary, etc., helps us maintain
our mental stability). Japanese haiku life is something that by now has
also exercised a tremendous appeal on us Westerners. It was only at the
end of the last century that the Japanese culture opened itself to the
world. Its visual arts (architecture, painting, print-making) and also its
music were recognized almost immediately as something with universal appeal
and inspired Western art (Impressionism, Madame Butterfly). The
appreciation of their language arts, especially of poetry, had to wait a
little longer. (Robert Frost once said in a private meeting: "Poetry is
the most national of arts. You can't translate it.") But in the second
half of this century, there is good access to Japanese literature, and
attempts at writing haiku can be observed in many languages. Haiku, with
their down-to-earth, extremely realistic approach to nature are actually
very easy to comprehend. If Westerners interested in poetry have
difficulties with haiku, it is because our modern poetry actually requires
us to tune in on certain s t y l e s of representing the world before
we can get access to what is expressed (D. Krusche). The Japanese haiku is
basically "objective"; the "I" is not intruding on nature as an outsider;
it is a natural part of it. Authors and readers of haiku realize a moment
in nature and in doing so are consciously or subconsciously "re-minded" of
the relationship of this moment with the whole of nature.
Western haiku writers can and do learn a lot from the great
Japanese authors. But high quality Western haiku will without doubt also
be influenced by the traditions of great Western literature. Observing and
appreciating the cultural contacts and exchanges going on in our time, I
actually think it will not be too long before great Western haiku and
Western haiku critique will also influence haiku and the understanding of
haiku in Japan.(Horst Ludwig)