The caress of the wind referred to in the title is the shiver we feel after reading the 50 haiku collected in this book by Maria Laura Valente, an internationally acknowledged expert in this genre. This work itself is an international project, with each poem presented in Italian and translated into four languages: Japanese, English, French and Russian. Generally conforming to the traditional scheme (5, 7 and 5 on in Japanese and lines of 5, 7 and 5 syllables with the accent on the penultimate syllable in Italian), the book alternates poems written with the technique of toriawase, namely the union of two elements lacking any logical connection which nevertheless conveys a sense of harmony, and the more difficult ichibutsujitate technique which focuses on a single image and then explores its details. In both cases, the leap of logic (kiru) is most often marked by the punctuation mark of the n-dash. In accordance with tradition, many of the haiku in this collection refer to a season (kigo), either explicitly naming it (winter sea; autumn evening) or indirectly evoking it through an atmospheric event (the first snowflakes; the last snowflakes) and more often through elements belonging to the plant kingdom (fallen leaf; cherry blossom). Sticking to such norms, Maria Laura develops her original style in a book which may be interpreted as an existential journey on the one side and enjoyed as a series of paintings on the other. The visual synthesis of these haiku is very effective: a few brushstrokes are enough to offer us a vivid image which often strikes us with impressive details. The reader has the feeling—especially in the first poems of the collection—to be in the presence of some impressionist works (the shadow of a lighthouse melted into the sunset, the scattered fragments of a full moon in dark water) or in front of a painting by Van Gogh (deep green – / a magnolia flower / captures the sun) until the predominance of visual aspects gradually makes room for tactile sensations (orange peel – / an unexpected hug / from my father) and most of all auditory sensations (the robin’s chirping; my mother’s voice; the voice of the rain; the sound of the waves; children’s laughter; my child’s cry). Skilfully sewn up through embroideries of recurring key words—often echoing each other from one poem to the following one—these haiku flash through the entire journey of existence: the book begins with a road and a reference to childhood and ends with the fine death of sarasoju, a flower which is born in the morning and falls in one piece in the evening. The journey takes place between these two ends, either explicitly mentioned or hinted at through other references, such as the “long road” and the highway. The natural landscape—with rare urban sketches—is dominated by the bloom of flowers, the gentle changing of seasons and atmospheric events and is often pervaded by a sense of calm contemplation. But this is not an idyllic dream: there are references to the cold, which is also a temperature of the soul, and to the shadow which—in the words of Goethe—is deeper where there is much light. Not only is the shadow directly named as a silent companion during the journey—possibly, the traveller’s dark side—but it lies hidden in the references to the orphanage, the graveyard, the black ivy of memory clinging to the heart, the mother’s voice weakening, the convalescence. In these very short lines which are nevertheless so intense that they open up entire worlds, Maria Laura doesn’t overlook any aspect of life—the relationship with her parents, pregnancy, nostalgia for her lost ones—and prove to excellently handle this ancient genre which is still cherished and widely practiced all over the world.

Maria Laura Valente
La carezza del vento
Associazione Culturale LunaNera, 2018