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Cotton grass on the moor, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
The voice shouting at the horse
Is part of the storm
On the withered moor.
Kyokusui
Looking north toward Bleaklow Head, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
The horse's tail
Caught in the bramble
On the withered moor.
Buson
Cotton grass closeup, on the moor, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
The traveller walks
Over the withered moor
Eating an orange.
Shiki
Hags and groughs, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
A lantern
Entered a house
On the withered moor.
Shiki
Up a grough toward Bleaklow Hill, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
On the way back home,
Evening has fallen
Across this withered moor.
Mokudo
On the moor, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
Parting from him,
He crossed over the mountain:
This withered moor!
Buson
Looking south over Lady Clough with Kinder Scout behind, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
The flying-squirrel
Is crunching the small bird
On the withered moor.
Buson
Cotton grass on the moor, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
A boy of the village
Leading a dog
Over the withered moor.
Shiki
On the moor, Hern Clough [?], the head of the Rover Alport, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
A solitary bird
For my companion
On the withered moor.
Shiki
Fingerpost on Pennine Way, Bleaklow, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak region of the Pennines above Glossop, Derbyshire: photo by Clem Rutter, 2008
Translations by Reginald Horace Blyth from Haiku, Volume IV, Autumn-Winter, 1951
16 comments:
Beautiful parallel narrative qualities to both words and images.
Very fine, Tom
Again, you, your collaborators and ekphrasis have done something really fine. I'm sitting here with Jane (who herself just finished collaborating on piano with a composer whose name I've forgotten) and we're both deeply moved by this journey across the moor. I've mentioned before enjoying John Buchan's work, which I do for a number of reasons, but mainly I think because of his vivid descriptions of nature, including especially moors. Anyway, reading and seeing this led me to a lovely website called naturalengland.org, where I've just spent some profitable time.
Beautiful
Don, Curtis, thanks so much. That there are still open moorland spaces is inspiring. Though of course the "withered moor" genre has its own deeper implications. The thought here was to seek out something universal in the figure, by deliberately "crossing up" geographical photo-locus and text-origin.
And thank you, Carlos.
(Rimando contra a maré, that's very nice... and takes my mind from the withered moor to your warm seas, therapy in a shadowed hour.)
I absolutely loved the Moor series, Tom. Thank you for posting these gems.
Thank you, Zaina. The "withered moor" figure carries a certain emotional note, a certain tone, that I was trying to capture with the photos.
(I guess it's something like what Eliot might have meant by "objective correlative".)
Actually there's some beautiful landscape of this kind in Norway. I'm going to start calling it moor. Norway doesn't have Chatsworth down the road, of course. I like the cotton grass.
Artur.
I was drawn to the moor of Bleaklow due largely to the Dickensian associations of the name, and interested to learn that Bleaklow Head is technically (?) a "hewitt", the name given peaks in England and Scotland of over 2,000 feet.
I thought it quite generous to so dignify a relatively modest elevation. The mark perhaps of a democratic people.
And in anticipation of the pertinent question which must weigh heavily upon every reader's mind, though none dare ask -- "What is a grough?" -- groughs are water-eroded channels in the peat on the moorlands.
(And yes, it's "gruffs" not "grouse"... though perhaps there lingers a measure of each in this curious endeavour...of withered-mooring, that is.)
what a feeling of freedom in those landscapes...!
Tom,
The field out the window appears to be "the withered moor" this morning, fog having descended last night (after how many cloudless blue days?), ridge almost visible through it at last (already noon). . . .
1.28
grey whiteness of fog against invisible
ridge, motion of green leaves on branch
in foreground, wave sounding in channel
lights still on tree, child
on yellow quilt below
it, Orion by cypress branch,
black canyon of ridge
silver of sunlight reflected in channel,
white cloud in pale blue sky on horizon
There is freedom in these landscapes as there is openness in the vowels of
white cloud in pale blue sky
Tom -
I've been involved in a project placing poetry on newly created waymarking stones - 'Companion stones' - on the moorland your images so beautifully evoke. Your own response to the Dickensian 'Bleaklow' took me back to the choice of locations we were offered at the start - I fought off all competitors to secure 'Bleak House'. I couldn't help wondering if you had particular reasons for choosing this stretch of withered moor over others. Here's a link to the Companion stones site if you're interested.
http://www.artsinthepeak.co.uk/cs/home/home1.htm
Barry
Tom -
I've been involved in a project placing poetry on newly created waymarking stones - 'Companion stones' - on the moorland your images so beautifully evoke.
http://www.artsinthepeak.co.uk/cs/home/home1.htm
Your own response to the Dickensian 'Bleaklow' took me back to the choice of locations we were offered at the start - I fought off all competitors to secure 'Bleak House'. I couldn't help wondering if you had particular reasons for choosing this stretch of withered moor over others?
Barry
Barry,
That's an interesting link to Jo Barry's Bleakhouse stone with your poem.
The "What's in a name?" aspect of the situation did (as I think I have said) affect my choice of Bleaklow to provide images of a withered moor. Though I must say, quite apart from the Dickensian affect attached to the name, the place did/does appear to be the very epitome, or Idea (!!), of a withered moor, in a sort of (I suppose) Coleridgean/Japanese sense.
Though then again, it's not entirely bleak, flowers are in bloom, and all this mood overlay is (quite obviously) purely subjective.
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