re:Virals 531
Welcome to re:Virals, The Haiku Foundation’s weekly commentary feature on some of your favorites among the best contemporary haiku and senryu written in English. In the host chair today is Keith. This week’s poem, chosen by Urszula Marciniak is:
sailboats or just seagulls far away — Mirela Brailean English-Speaking Union of Japan's ESUJ-H, August 2025
Introducing this poem, Urszula writes:
We long for something we know little about, something distant, so distant as to be almost unattainable, and therefore more desirable. This something is attractive because we don’t know the details. We imagine its advantages, but we fail to see its flaws.
Sometimes we long for something that was close but has now drifted away. Our eyes and hearts reach into the distance, but we can no longer touch it.
Distant and beautiful, yet blurred: our memories, dreams, sailboats, and seagulls.
Host comment (Keith):
This plain, evocative, and beautiful haiku—without a strict season, but I read “summer”—certainly works for someone like me, who has always felt the call of the sea and sailing, from dinghies to modest cruising yachts. Seagulls are the soul-cry of the sea, their arc’d wings like the jib and mainsail of a modern Bermuda rig on the wind. There’s the call of the horizon and of adventure: an invitation to freedom. For us, unable to fly, maybe bound by office and mortgage and obligations, the thought of a sailboat to catch the wind, its range unlimited, is a dream, a longing to wander. To see far away places with strange-sounding names. To be free. Seeing white shapes in the distance, we hope for a sailboat, but may have to settle for the seagulls and their cry.
I could wax more lyrical, but John Masefield’s poem “Sea Fever” (with its unusual meter and great use of chaining with “…and…”) and Joni MItchell’s “Song to a Seagull” do it so much better that I’ve included them in the Footnote below.
Dan Campbell:
Robinson Crusoe’s Critique of a Poem
This small poem captures something I felt in my years alone by the sea on a deserted island. That first word, sailboats, sparks a rush of glee. When a man has been stranded long enough, the faintest white speck on the horizon feels like hope reborn. You tell yourself, Yes, someone is coming. I am seen.
But the second line reminds us how fragile that hope is. More than once, I stood on the shore with my heart pounding, only to realize I’d been fooled by wings instead of sails. Loneliness makes the eyes too eager; much too eager.
.
And then, “far away.” Those two words hold both possibilities at once—salvation or heartbreak. Distance plays tricks. It keeps the truth blurred, and life becomes a constant guessing game between deliverance and disappointment.
I am sure I whispered this same poem or very similar poems during my years on the island. I was always watching, always wondering—always hoping for that distant shape to be a ship, and not just another bird flying by.
Rebeca Thomas:
What a clever and memorable poem. It makes me think of how my eyesight can work, perception, and perspective. In the distance, things may look the same but as we get closer they get clearer just like other areas of life and experiences. Foresight, hindsight, all is fuel for the fire and I am inspired to write about this, too. Thank you for your creative work.
Sudha Devi Nayak:
Reading this haiku I experience an immeasurable peace,a quietness that overwhelms all sound. I am on a vast seashore stretching to the horizon, waters rippling blue and green and all around me sand glittering like the gold dust of El Dorado. As I look into the far distance, far, faraway I see mere specks that could be sailboats adrift or the seagulls, droves of those magnificent seabirds that roam the seas with royal abandon.
Are they sailboats or seagulls? Illusion and reality. I am trapped between illusion and reality, those grey moments where truth merges into unreality, where dreams infringe on consciousness. Even while I am trying to reconcile the two and wrestle with both impressions they recede like mirages.
Philosophers have said all life is merely an illusion, “Maya,” and what we conceive as reality or lived experience are just illusory moments. We create illusions for ourselves to navigate a difficult world creating patches of happiness. But today’s illusions shatter into the reality of tomorrow and we weave further illusions to make the day after pleasanter and more bearable. This life is a continuity of illusions where we cross from one to another and in that ambiguous region with blurred lines between illusion and reality is existence. A magic realism, whether sailboats or seagulls, till oblivion claims us.
Sitarama Seshu Maringanti:
Mirela Brailean’s haiku takes me immediately to the world of perception of what is presented in a painting. Some brush strokes portray the impression of sailboats sailing at a distance on the sea. Suddenly the perception changes and I imagine that it is not the sailboats that I see but a flock of seagulls high in the air looking for some food on the shores.
The author of the haiku is caught like me on the horns of a similar dilemma – so it seems to me. The haiku reflects that dilemma in a sensitive manner. Beautifully worded in the fewest number of syllables.
Ashoka Weerakkody—that unfulfilled desire:
Seeing distant objects with naked eyes can leave one guessing as to what’s over there, obstructing the line of sight, as a matter of passing curiosity, having been a being of the world offering little or no excitement on a regular basis. Unless we are on an excursion, so arranged, to please us with serendipity, like a Disneyland, a built environment full of amusement, or in the more serious scale the Bermuda Triangle for real.
Looking far out over boundless waters of the Ocean and its inverse, the hollow dome of the sky, one would feel like seeing nothing at all, yet as aforesaid it’s not a vacuum out there. Water and Air – they take up the space, filling it with everything, minerals, gases, and resultant forms of energy; kinetic, electric and thermal etc. but the eye sees nothing. Except the hazy distant invaders seen far away.
In terms of this haiku it’s “sailboats or just seagulls.” Just seagulls? Why does the poet ‘just’-ify even the lesser object the seagulls, sailboats being the major object of interest? In the end it’s the disappointment, frustration or overall emptiness we are so gently pushed to confront in unaccompanied solitude. The poet who led us thus far lagging and falling a step behind.
Mirella Brailean has, within just ten syllables, exposed this mist-engulfed truth about the human longing for change, ‘just” that minimal liberty from the tortuous monotony of life, not amounting to joyous excitement nor the thrill of inexplicable mystery. And it’s that unfulfilled desire, still keeping us sane within a faintly ambitious everyday existence.
Author Mirela Brailean:
I am pleased to know that this poem, which is very dear to me, has been liked by other haiku lovers. I thank Urszula Marciniak for choosing it, among many others.
I have always loved the sea. Even now, it still amazes and delights me. The flight of seagulls has always been likened to the floating of sailing boats by me. When you look at the horizon, sometimes you don’t know which are which. The picture is always outstanding.
Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Ashoka has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, or of moderate length, academic, your personal response, spontaneous, or idiosyncratic. As long as it focuses on the verse presented, and with respect for the poet, all genuine reader reaction, criticism, and pertinent discussion is of value. Out-takes are kept in the THF Archives. Best of all, the chosen commentary’s author gets to pick the next poem.
Anyone can participate. Simply use the re:Virals commentary form below to enter your commentary on the new week’s poem (“Your text”) by the following Tuesday midnight, Eastern US Time Zone, and then press Submit to send your entry. The Submit button will not be available until Name, Email, and Place of Residence fields are filled in. We look forward to seeing your commentary and finding out about your favourite poems.
Poem for commentary:
her child answers in the nanny's tongue end of summer Roland Packer The Heron's Nest xxvii No. 3, September 2025
Footnote:
Mirela’s bio:
“I’m a biologist engaged in the preservation of mobile cultural heritage. I have a deep love for people, nature, and animals.
Writing haiku is a way for me to express my passion for this minimalist genre. About seven years ago, I came across it by chance. I have won many competitions both at home and abroad since then. As of 2020, I am listed in the top 100 haiku writers in Europe. In my opinion, having experience writing poetry is the most important thing. I have made many friends with individuals from all over the world who share my love for haiku.
Between 2019 and 2022, I have published three haiku books, including two bilingual and trilingual books (English, Romanian, and Japanese).”
You can find further information on Mirela, and some of her haiku, here in the Haiku Foundation’s Haiku Registry, and in the Akita World Haiku series.
——-
Sea-Fever
—John Masefield
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
Click the image to listen to Joni Mitchell’s Song to a Seagull (1967/68) on YouTube. Or if you have Spotify, the whole delightful album is available on search. Lyrics here.
re:Virals is co-hosted by Shawn Blair, Melissa Dennison, Susan Yavaniski, and Keith Evetts (managing editor).
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Comments (5)
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Some people like to distinguish between haiku and senryu. (Not me really). Kimiko Hahn puts it like this: “In short, the subject of the haiku is nature; the senryu, human nature.” I think the verse we are looking at here, has human nature as its subject. The word “just” puts the writer smack dab in the scene. Not a criticism mind you. Thought I would bring it up, as it has not come up already.
It comes up from time to time…
I too am not fussed about pigeonholes. There are many verses in the grey area between ‘clearly’ haiku and ‘clearly’ senryu. That’s been the case for a couple of hundred years. Further distinction matters to some. One of their diagnostics is the presence of a kigo or seasonal ref.
Me, I think the wine is more of interest than the bottle it’s put in…
Thanks Keith–
Am interested to hear if for others the distinction is significant in some way, or not. Useful, or not.
Perhaps more than you wanted, but here’s ChatGPT’s analysis (in the context of discussing Issa’s daikon-picker) which looks pretty well-argued to me:
———-
Keith
Please comment on whether making a distinction between ‘haiku’ and ‘senryū’ is important, and if so, to whom and why?
ChatGPT
The importance of distinguishing haiku from senryū depends very much on who is reading or writing, and why they are doing so.
Below is a clear, nuanced breakdown of who cares, who doesn’t, and why the distinction matters—or doesn’t—depending on context.
1. For Edo-period scholars and historians
Importance: high
Why:
In the Edo period the genres had different social functions, editorial institutions, and target audiences.
Haiku (hokku/haikai) was tied to seasonal awareness, nature, Buddhist-inflected perception, and linked to renga traditions.
Senryū emerged partly from comic verse competitions (maekuzuke), judging the wit of human foibles.
To these researchers, the distinction matters because:
It helps map historical lineages.
It clarifies genre evolution.
It preserves cultural context that shaped the poems’ original reception.
2. For modern Japanese literary critics
Importance: moderate
Why:
Many modern critics see haiku and senryū as separate literary ecosystems, with different journals, contests, and aesthetics.
Haiku communities tend to preserve classical features: kigo, kireji-like effects, nature-as-focus.
Senryū societies emphasize: wit, social commentary, psychological observation, and contemporary language.
For them, the distinction:
Helps organize critical discourse.
Maintains pedagogical clarity.
Preserves the identity of two active literary scenes.
3. For haiku practitioners (Japan & worldwide)
Importance: variable – ranging from high to negligible
Some haiku poets insist:
A haiku without seasonality is “not a haiku.”
A poem primarily about human behavior is senryū.
Therefore classification protects the spirit of haiku.
Others counter:
The distinction is over-policed.
Modern haiku can legitimately be human-centered, ironic, or seasonless.
Issa’s work already dissolves the boundary.
Thus:
If your practice is rooted in traditional aesthetics, distinction matters.
If your practice is experimental or inclusive, it matters much less.
4. For translators
Importance: high
Why:
When translating, the classification helps determine tone, register, and expectations.
For example:
Haiku translation often aims for openness, resonance, depth, seasonal sensitivity.
Senryū translation leans toward wry clarity, punch, and comic timing.
Knowing which you’re dealing with helps avoid misrepresenting the original.
5. For casual readers or beginners
Importance: generally low
Why:
Most casual readers respond to the effect and the image, not the classification.
They may enjoy the verse without caring whether it is technically “haiku” or “senryū.”
For them, the boundary may feel artificial or academic.
6. For Issa in particular
Importance: inherently blurred
Issa frequently:
mixes warm humor with seasonal nature,
writes human-focused scenes with deep compassion,
produces poems that defy the neat haiku/senryū categories.
For Issa scholars, this is the key question:
Are we imposing anachronistic, modern categories on a poet who wrote in a much more fluid aesthetic world?
Thus:
The distinction matters less when analyzing Issa’s spirit, more when mapping literature systematically.
Conclusion
Is the distinction important?
→ It depends on your purpose.
Yes, if you are a historian, critic, translator, or traditional practitioner—because the categories structure literary practice, aesthetics, and lineage.
Not very, if you are a general reader, a contemporary free-form poet, or someone focusing on the experiential quality of the poem.
In short:
The haiku–senryū distinction is not universally “true,” but it is culturally and historically useful—especially to those engaged in the tradition or its scholarship.
I wrote my commentary The moment I read Mirela’s verse on re:Virals last Friday but unfortunately I completely forgot to submit it until much after the deadline had passed. So here it is…
The verse could be seen as having the shape of a sailboat or the seagulls’ wings or even a wave of the sea. The ‘s’es also remind one of the sound of the soft sea when the sailboats are gently sailing.
L1 – I could visualise the white sailboats at a distance from the shore. Thanks to living in a coastal town, I have now seen quite a number of them, especially during certain times of the year when sailing events are held. L2 – I could visualise the ‘just seagulls’ too, having finally seen them at a boating area at the backwaters a little further from the outskirts of our coastal town. However, for me seeing seagulls isn’t too common, so I cannot relate to ‘just seagulls’. I’m as fascinated as or even more fascinated by the seagulls than sailboats. L3 – yes, I could totally relate to it. I always think in my mind or express aloud when I see these, that they’re so far away. And whatever is faraway is fascinating and beautiful. One wants more of it. One stands on the seashore just watching and cannot fathom how the time passes.