"How can life have meaning without death?" ~ John Lash
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
And all my good is but vain hope of gain.
The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
My tale was heard and yet it was not told, My fruit is fallen and yet my leaves are green; My youth is spent and yet I am not old, I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it is not spun, And now I live, and now my life is done.
I sought my death and found it in my womb, I looked for life and saw it was a shade; I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb, And now I die, and now I was but made. My glass is full, and now my glass is run, And now I live, and now my life is done.
~ Chidiock Tichborne, days before his execution.
This poem, read in tutorial, is the lament of a young man, still feeling full of life, but about to lose his own. Tragic, yes. The imagery that it uses ("The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,/And now I live, and now my life is done") expresses the hopeless irony of dying in the prime of youth - even the metronomic rhythm in each verse suggests his impending demise.
However, I've come to delve into a different kind of death poetry. As mentioned by the professor in tutorial, the Japanese have an ancient tradition of writing a poem before their own death - this practice was common among Zen Buddhist monks as well as samurai, in order to "die both fully conscious and in composure of soul". If you read some of the poetry in the previous link, or search yourself for some Japanese death poetry (online or at the library), you'll probably find, as I did, that their poetry deals with themes of enlightenment and a much greater acceptance of passing on than your typical elegy or lament. In fact, this website explains that "admitting their own mortality forced the warriors to accept that life is a precious and fleeting gift ... [which] allowed the samurai to live their lives more fully; they realised that death could come at any moment."
This idea is portrayed well here:
That which blossoms
falls, the way of all flesh
in this world of flowers.
~ Kiko
Of course, their style of poetry is distinctly different from what we see here on the Western side of the globe; much more succinct, and generally free verse (from what I've found), but this also tends to make them more memorable, and, by all means, at least as powerful. But it's the acceptance of the inevitability of death in which I find a strangely comforting optimism. As mentioned earlier, it has a way of persuading you to always make the most of what you have and to live your life fully. That way, you're less likely to feel regretful when your time of passing comes - which I think is the problem with Tichborne's poem. It expresses regret, lament, and, for me at least, an unspent youth. And I understand, of course, that these are things one may well feel during such a time. I'm sure that, sitting in the tower awaiting his execution, Tichborne had little else to think about than bitterness for opportunities missed in the time yet to come. However, as a death poem is your final legacy to those you leave behind, would it not be more valuable to express appreciation and wisdom?
But that's just me. I like to celebrate, even in death.
cherry blossom,
symbol of fleeting life.
Now to get some rest in peace,
Laura-lei
My tale was heard and yet it was not told, My fruit is fallen and yet my leaves are green; My youth is spent and yet I am not old, I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it is not spun, And now I live, and now my life is done.
I sought my death and found it in my womb, I looked for life and saw it was a shade; I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb, And now I die, and now I was but made. My glass is full, and now my glass is run, And now I live, and now my life is done.
~ Chidiock Tichborne, days before his execution.
This poem, read in tutorial, is the lament of a young man, still feeling full of life, but about to lose his own. Tragic, yes. The imagery that it uses ("The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,/And now I live, and now my life is done") expresses the hopeless irony of dying in the prime of youth - even the metronomic rhythm in each verse suggests his impending demise.
However, I've come to delve into a different kind of death poetry. As mentioned by the professor in tutorial, the Japanese have an ancient tradition of writing a poem before their own death - this practice was common among Zen Buddhist monks as well as samurai, in order to "die both fully conscious and in composure of soul". If you read some of the poetry in the previous link, or search yourself for some Japanese death poetry (online or at the library), you'll probably find, as I did, that their poetry deals with themes of enlightenment and a much greater acceptance of passing on than your typical elegy or lament. In fact, this website explains that "admitting their own mortality forced the warriors to accept that life is a precious and fleeting gift ... [which] allowed the samurai to live their lives more fully; they realised that death could come at any moment."
This idea is portrayed well here:
That which blossoms
falls, the way of all flesh
in this world of flowers.
~ Kiko
Of course, their style of poetry is distinctly different from what we see here on the Western side of the globe; much more succinct, and generally free verse (from what I've found), but this also tends to make them more memorable, and, by all means, at least as powerful. But it's the acceptance of the inevitability of death in which I find a strangely comforting optimism. As mentioned earlier, it has a way of persuading you to always make the most of what you have and to live your life fully. That way, you're less likely to feel regretful when your time of passing comes - which I think is the problem with Tichborne's poem. It expresses regret, lament, and, for me at least, an unspent youth. And I understand, of course, that these are things one may well feel during such a time. I'm sure that, sitting in the tower awaiting his execution, Tichborne had little else to think about than bitterness for opportunities missed in the time yet to come. However, as a death poem is your final legacy to those you leave behind, would it not be more valuable to express appreciation and wisdom?
But that's just me. I like to celebrate, even in death.
cherry blossom,
symbol of fleeting life.
Now to get some rest in peace,
Laura-lei