The objective yet beautifully sad objective world as it is and which cannot be captured is central to Jack Kerouac’s haiku. He followed the traditions of Buson, Shiki and Issa and instead of counting syllables he obtained the rhythmic pulse in the bareness and delicacy of this short form of Japenese poetry. This collection has been published in Irish for the first time - and translated by Ireland’s doyen of the haiku, Gabriel Rosenstock. He unerringly finds Irish registers that reveal the beauty of these haiku anew. Like Kerouac, Rosenstock makes the haiku sing for us in this enlightening collection.