One Hundred Poets’ Shu: Hyakunin Isshu Translated by Vladimir Suchan on Amazon

A fresh translation of the Hyakunin Isshu, capturing the timeless beauty of Japanese waka through a philosophical and lyrical lens. One Hundred Poets’ Shu — Hyakunin Isshu, translated by Vladimir Suchan, is a luminous and deeply reflective reimagining of the 13th-century Japanese anthology, a timeless collection of one hundred tanka, each crafted by a distinct poet or poetess of the Heian and early Kamakura periods. With a poet’s heart and a scholar’s precision, Suchan breathes new life into Fujiwara no Teika’s canonical work, unveiling the intricate layers of meaning, esoteric allusions, and cultural resonance embedded in these 5-7-5-7-7 syllable gems. His translations, forged over nearly four years of contemplation, dance between fidelity to tradition and a bold embrace of interpretive freedom, rendering each tanka as a “tantō blade”—compact, piercing, and exquisitely honed.

Suchan’s title, One Hundred Poets’ Shu, preserves the Japanese shu (首, poem or head), evoking the tanka as “heads” of poetic thought, each a commanding origin of epiphany, akin to the Greek arkhe. This choice reflects his reverence for the anthology’s spirit, where individual voices harmonize into a unified poetic body, resisting the “fascistoid brutalism” of modern anti-aesthetics and aligning with sacred geometry’s universal truth. His preface, a poetic manifesto, likens tanka to the tantō dagger—small yet potent, concealing profound beauty and force within its elegant form. This metaphor underscores his approach: to wield language with samurai-like precision, cutting to the heart of love, loss, nature, and immortality.
The translations themselves are a tapestry of vivid imagery and philosophical depth, capturing the multilayered ambiguity of Japanese poetry. From Emperor Tenji’s “sleeves dampen in rain— / Autumn’s touch / weaves solitude’s thread” to Ono no Komachi’s “flowers fade, / my body, world-life age, / vanishing from sight—,” Suchan selects meanings that “sing the purest poetry.” He navigates the coded messages and cultural literacy demanded by tanka, as in Poem 19’s shift from lovers’ longing to a meditation on immortality’s “melody unheard,” or Poem 25’s sensual “scarlet berries” probing love’s truth. His renderings, often accompanied by alternate versions, reveal the poems’ semantic forks—lovers’ pathos, existential queries, or nature’s fleeting hues—inviting readers to join the “shared authorship” of poet and tradition.

Suchan’s work is both a homage and a reinvention, bridging the Heian court’s refined aesthetic with contemporary sensibilities. His reflections on the poetic literacy of ancient Japan and China, where warriors and officials were poets by decree, frame the anthology as a cultural imperative, a “Sword of Truth and Life.” Like the moon’s gaze in Ōe no Chisato’s tanka, Suchan’s One Hundred Poets’ Shu pulls hearts to wonder, offering a transcendent journey through poetry’s enduring power to feel, to question, and to endure.