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Ryūka: Okinawan Lyric Poetry

Ryūka: Okinawan Lyric Poetry T R A D I T I O N A L Ryüka: Okinawan Lyric Poetry Ryüka is a form of Okinawan lyric poetry sung to the accompaniment of the sanshin. When written, ryüka have thirty syllables, arranged as three phrases of eight syllables followed by one of six. The form and rhythm of ryüka are deeply embedded in Okinawan culture. For many of the following poems, the authors are unknown; some poems are attributed to certain authors based on a lyric's style and sentiment. No sign of you yet. Are you late or not coming? Still I wait throughout the night. Even the moon's sad face abandons me. (yushiya chirü) We lay together so sweetly. Your face shining and lovely. Near midnight I woke to see the moon Slipping away over the hill. In the long days we work In separated garden plots. Meet me at night, please, No matter how briefly! Hey, butterfly, heading east. Hold up a moment. On your Winding errands take this message From me to my beloved. The newly formed buds of grain Are as plump as girls of twenty. So fresh and golden. I give to you The pick of spring's first http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

Ryūka: Okinawan Lyric Poetry

Manoa , Volume 23 (1) – Jun 29, 2011

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Hawai'I Press
ISSN
1527-943x
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Abstract

T R A D I T I O N A L Ryüka: Okinawan Lyric Poetry Ryüka is a form of Okinawan lyric poetry sung to the accompaniment of the sanshin. When written, ryüka have thirty syllables, arranged as three phrases of eight syllables followed by one of six. The form and rhythm of ryüka are deeply embedded in Okinawan culture. For many of the following poems, the authors are unknown; some poems are attributed to certain authors based on a lyric's style and sentiment. No sign of you yet. Are you late or not coming? Still I wait throughout the night. Even the moon's sad face abandons me. (yushiya chirü) We lay together so sweetly. Your face shining and lovely. Near midnight I woke to see the moon Slipping away over the hill. In the long days we work In separated garden plots. Meet me at night, please, No matter how briefly! Hey, butterfly, heading east. Hold up a moment. On your Winding errands take this message From me to my beloved. The newly formed buds of grain Are as plump as girls of twenty. So fresh and golden. I give to you The pick of spring's first

Journal

ManoaUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: Jun 29, 2011

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