Sakutarō Hagiwara, an eminent Japanese poet, was a towering figure in the world of literature who fundamentally transformed the way poetry was conceived and received in Japan. Born on this day November 1, 1886, Hagiwara is often referred to as the “father of modern colloquial poetry in Japan,” for his radical departure from traditional styles of Japanese verse, such as Tanka and Haiku.
Hagiwara’s pioneering use of free verse, a style characterized by its lack of consistent meter patterns and rhyme, was revolutionary within the rigidly structured world of Japanese poetry. Previously, Japanese poetry had been dominated by traditional forms like Tanka, a form of unrhymed verse consisting of five lines with a total of 31 syllables. Hagiwara’s introduction of free verse was not just stylistic, but also thematic; his poetry was marked by raw emotional honesty, psychological depth, and an exploration of human suffering and existential dread that was unprecedented in Japanese literature.
Hagiwara’s works were a radical departure from the nature-focused, seasonally themed conventions of Tanka and Haiku. Through his vivid and emotive language, Hagiwara gave voice to the darker aspects of human existence, addressing themes such as isolation, despair, and the human condition. His poetry was a reflection of the societal changes and existential angst prevalent in Japan during his lifetime.
Sakutarō Hagiwara was not just a poet but a cultural revolutionary who fundamentally altered the landscape of Japanese literature. His profound impact on Japanese poetry continues to be felt to this day, securing his place as one of the most compelling and influential voices in literary history. Sakutarō Hagiwara’s legacy as a poet is not simply rooted in his novel use of free verse or his departure from traditional Tanka; it is found in his courage to confront human suffering and emotional depth in his work, making him a true voice of his generation.
Melancholic Far Scenery
When it turns melancholy twilight,
The whole of Tokyo fills with laborers,
And the shadows of their fatigued hats
Fill the whole city,
And in the ward-district theareabouts and the ward-district hereabouts,
Dig over the stiff ground,
And what they discover they have dug up
Is a sooty foil-wrap of snuff tobacco.
It’s a shriveled up root-stalk of a fragrant-violet
Weighing almost five momme.
And they start off from farther down, around the Honjo-Fukagawa district,
And gradually start to encroach the whole city.
In the shadow of the angst-filled twilight,
A wilted heart is working the shovel and making it gleam.
-Sakutarō Hagiwara
Curated by Jennifer
