Banya Natsuishi: a haiku poet detached from all things

This Japanese art form reveals ‘a bitter awareness of the frailty of human existence and the impermanence of nature,’ one of its most perceptive proponents tells Al Majalla.

Hiroyuki Izutsu

Haiku poet Banya Natsuishi

Banya Natsuishi: a haiku poet detached from all things

Osama Esber

last update on 10 Dec 2025

Banya Natsuishi is widely regarded as one of the most distinguished poets of contemporary Japan—a leading figure in the practice and global dissemination of haiku, a Japanese form of poetry with a three-line structure. His work embodies the refinement of tradition and the boldness of innovation, positioning haiku both as a Japanese art form and as a universal poetic language.

Born in 1955 in the city of Aioi, nestled within Japan’s Hyōgo Prefecture, Natsuishi was originally named Masayuki Inoue. When he was 14, his first haiku was selected for publication in a monthly journal by Tōta Kaneko, a revered master some consider the greatest haiku poet of his time.

In 1975, Natsuishi moved to Tokyo, where he encountered two of the era’s most avant-garde haiku poets—Kaneko and Shigenobu Takayanagi. They would both have a huge effect on him. Natsuishi studied French literature and culture at the University of Tokyo, earning a master’s degree in comparative literature in 1981. In 1992, he was appointed professor at Meiji University, a position he continues to hold.

That same year, he was awarded the 38th Modern Haiku Association Award. From 1996-98, he was a visiting scholar at the University of Paris VII. In 1998, together with poet Sayumi Kamakura, he founded the international haiku journal Ginyu (The Travelling Poet, or The Troubadour), becoming editor-in-chief. The following year, he co-organised the First International Symposium on Contemporary Haiku in Tokyo. This led to the establishment of the World Haiku Association in 2000. Today, he is a director of the Modern Haiku Association of Japan and lives in Fujimi, near Tokyo.

Natsuishi has published eight haiku collections, among them Daily Hunting Diary (1983), Rhythm in Emptiness (1986), Opera in the Human Body (1990), Pilgrimage on Earth (1998), and The Flying Pope in the Sky (2010). His editorial contributions are equally notable, with works such as A Guide to Haiku in the 21st Century (1997), Multilingual Travelling Haiku Poets (2000), and The Transparent Current (2000). His critical writings include A Dictionary of Keywords in Contemporary Haiku (1990), A Guide to Contemporary Haiku (1996), and Our Friend, the Haiku Poem (1997).

Much of his poetic output has been translated into English and other languages. Here is his conversation with Al Majalla:

Could you introduce yourself to Arab readers?

I am a poet, philosopher, and haiku artist. My creative path is rooted in haiku, which I regard as the purest and most inventive form of linguistic expression—a distillation of poetic essence that transcends boundaries.

What makes a person a poet? And how does this apply to haiku, given its growing reach and renown?

A true poet can detach from all things and all people yet still forge connections among them through a language that is both generative and suggestive. Terms like ‘global’ and ‘famous,’ I confess I do not fully grasp their meaning. They strike me as vague constructs—illusions particularly cherished in the American imagination.

Your haiku often engages with global political realities, as in your line: “Newspapers absorb a great deal of blood.” Is this a novel direction for haiku?

In the English-speaking world, Japanese haiku is often oversimplified or misunderstood. The haiku you mention speaks to the insidious power of propaganda embedded in journalism. It is rare to find a haiku that dares to critique the edifice of human culture.

What draws you repeatedly to this poetic form?

Writing haiku brings me joy—not because it offers solace, but because it reveals a bitter awareness of the frailty of human existence and the impermanence of nature. And yet, in that very awareness, I find the will to live on, and with it, a renewed intuition.

What inspired the founding of the World Haiku Association in 2000, and how do you see its role today?

The World Haiku Association was founded in Slovenia in September 2000 and re-established in December of the same year.

A true poet can detach from all things and all people, yet still forge connections among them through a language that is both generative and suggestive

The impetus behind its creation was to promote haiku as the quintessential poetic form across all languages. Sadly, this vision has been hindered by the complacency of those who treat haiku as an easy exercise rather than a demanding art.

In 1998, you co-founded the journal Ginyu with poet Sayumi Kamakura. What inspired its creation?

Our aim was twofold: to continue crafting haiku in Japanese as a living, modern poetic form, and to introduce outstanding haiku written in non-Japanese languages to readers in Japan.

You are also a haiga painter. How does your visual art relate to your poetry?

In the beginning, image and script were one and the same—a unified mode of expression. In the art of haiga, these elements intertwine: the brush-drawn image serves as a cue or whisper that deepens the resonance of the haiku it accompanies.

Some have said that the flying pope, from The Flying Pope in the Sky, evokes Bashō and other masters. Do you see this as a dialogue with tradition, or a step toward?

Bashō's influence on me was limited. What I sought was to surpass Katsushika Hokusai, who famously depicted Mount Fuji from myriad angles. My endeavour was to transcend even that multiplicity of vision.

A critic once likened you to Walt Whitman, who "speaks in many selves". Do you see yourself in conversation with global poets, or is this a by-product of globalisation?

I do not know Whitman well enough to say. What I do believe is that true poetry is layered, unpredictable, and irreducible. As for globalisation, it is a mirage—an invention of late-stage American capitalism.

Which Arab poets are known in Japan?

Regrettably, Arab poets remain largely unknown in Japan. Only a limited number of their works have been translated, which leaves a vast poetic world unexplored.

How has foreign poetry influenced Japanese poetic sensibility?

The earliest and most profound influence came from classical Chinese poetry. The use of Chinese characters—and the two calligraphic styles derived from them—played a foundational role in shaping not only Japanese poetry but Japanese culture at large. In terms of poetic sensibility, Japan has perhaps grown more refined than China.

Since the latter half of the 19th century, Western poetic forms have also been emulated in Japan. Yet Japanese poetry has often struggled with musicality, stylistic cohesion, and especially with the architectural integrity of the poem.

What role does translation play in fostering cross-cultural understanding of haiku and world poetry?

Translation is paramount in poetry—and indispensable across all fields. It is a vessel of understanding, but also of misunderstanding, of slips and serendipities. Translation is where missteps and miracles coexist.

Do you believe haiku is evolving into a global poetic form, or does it remain intrinsically Japanese?

Haiku is the very essence of poetry—everywhere in the world.

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