Nakahara Chûya’s poems have been set to music for decades– since the birth of his poetic career, in fact. In 1926, years before he had conceived of the organization for his first volume Poems of the Goat, Chûya sent “A Morning Poem” to Kobayashi Hideo. The writing of this poem corresponds to the period in Chûya’s life when he decided to devote his life to poetry. Chûya complained to the rising critic about how much effort such a short poem had required of him. It seems as if Chûya were realizing the task that lay ahead of him, and that most of what he had written until then had been mere exercise (he did recycle some poems from his earlier notebooks for Poems of the Goat).

“A Morning Poem” is deceptively simple: fourteen lines, with a visual space, acting as a pause, in the middle of each line. But on closer look, you see that Chûya models the poem after the sonnet form. It is two quatrains followed by two tercets, and the internal line breaks divide syllabic units of five and seven. Chûya further adds repetition of certain phrases and grammar patterns to this already complex structure, creating quite a resonant poem. The perfect poem, perhaps, for a band in need of lyrics.

In December of 1927, Chûya befriended the classical music group Suruya. At the group’s second concert three months later, they used “A Morning Poem” and “This Moment of Passing” as lyrics, publishing the poems in the program guide. Chûya’s collaboration with the group continued, with these and other song lyrics appearing in Poems of the Goat and Poems of Days Past, his second volume of poetry. Chûya himself loved music, both indigenous and Western, and critics continue to discuss the relationship between his poetry and music.

Today, numerous recordings exist of artists who have set his poetry to music. Many have been classical, but certainly not all. We have begun a compilation below of published recordings of his music, and plan to add to the list as new titles come to our attention.

This recording from 1979 is trademark Tomokawa, with his quivering voice, piercing wails and thrashing acoustic guitar. It is much grittier than his studio recordings, and perhaps more true to the artist. He is backed up by lyrical piano melodies, and a bass and percussion rhythm section. The excellent recording features three Nakahara Chûya tunes (and some stage ‘chats’ with the audience).