A tanka is a five-line Japanese poem with 31 sound units arranged in a 5-7-5-7-7 pattern, one of the oldest poetic forms still written today.
That’s the wall most people hit with a tanka poem: the numbers are everywhere, but nobody explains what they’re for.
Part of the problem is translation. “Tokyo” is two syllables in English but four sound units in Japanese, so an English 31 doesn’t behave like a Japanese 31.
I’ll show you what the five lines are actually doing, why the count bends in English, and how to write a first draft that sounds like a person, not a math problem.
What Is a Tanka Poem?
Tanka translates to “short song” in Japanese. It is a five-line poem and one of the longest-running poetic traditions in the world.
People have been writing tanka for well over a thousand years, which makes it one of the oldest poem forms still in use.
Most tanks do two things in a small space.
First, they show you something you could see, hear, or touch:frost, a kettle, a late train. Then they show you what that moment stirred up in the speaker. Image first, feeling second.
That combination is what sets a tanka apart from other short poems. It isn’t only a snapshot, and it isn’t only a confession. It sits right where the two meet.
Tanka were also once a way for people to talk to each other. Courtiers sent them as love notes, thank-yous, and farewells.
Today people write them about everything from breakups to bus stops. I’ll come back to the history near the end.
The Tanka Structure: The 5-7-5-7-7 Pattern
The classic pattern counts sound units across five lines: 5, 7, 5, 7, 7. Add those up, and you get 31. That’s where the famous number comes from.
The poem splits into two halves. The first three lines (5-7-5) are called the upper phrase, and the last two (7-7) are the lower phrases.
If you want a broader look at the structural elements of poetry that govern forms like this one, that’s worth reading alongside.
Listen to the rhythm the numbers make: Short, long, short, long, long. The poem takes a small breath in the middle, then stretches out at the end.
Even if you never count a single syllable, that shape is worth chasing. It makes the last two lines feel like they’re landing something.
One detail that surprises people: In Japanese, a tanka is usually written in a single line. The five-line layout is mostly a habit of translators and English-language poets.
Why “31 Syllables” Changes in English
English tankas often use fewer than 31 syllables because Japanese poets count shorter sound units, called onji, not syllables.
The word “Tokyo” has two syllables in English, but four sound units in Japanese:to-o-kyo-o.
So 31 sound units in Japanese make a smaller poem than 31 syllables in English. That’s why many English-language poets loosen the rules.
Some still follow 5-7-5-7-7 because they enjoy the challenge. Others write five short lines with the same short-long-short-long-long feel and skip the counting.
Neither approach is wrong. If you’re writing for a class or a contest, check their rules first. If you’re writing for yourself, I’d start with 5-7-5-7-7 as training wheels, then bend it when a poem needs it.
Tanka Poem Examples and Why They Work
Four famous tanka show the image-then-feeling pattern well.
For the first three, I’ve given the Japanese, the romaji (the Japanese sounds written in English letters), and a plain-word translation. Translations vary a lot from one translator to the next, so try comparing a few.
Ono no Komachi: Blossoms in the Long Rain
Komachi’s most famous tanka compares fading cherry blossoms to her own fading beauty. She was one of the best-known women poets of ninth-century Japan.
The colour of the blossoms
has faded away
in vain, as I have grown old in this world
while I brooded, watching the long rain.
It works because one image carries two things. Nagame means both “long rain” and “gazing in thought.” Furu means both “to fall,” as rain does, and “to pass through time.” The blossoms and her life become one picture, and she never has to explain the comparison.
Saigyō: A Wish Under the Cherry Blossoms
Saigyō wrote that he hoped to die in spring, under the cherry blossoms. He was a twelfth-century poet who served as an imperial guard at court before leaving that life at age 22 to become a wandering Buddhist monk and poet.
My one wish is this:
under the cherry blossoms
to die in spring,
in that second month,
near the time of the full moon.
In the old calendar, the full moon of the second month was the time traditionally linked to the Buddha’s death. The poem takes a huge, scary subject and pins it to one specific, beautiful place.
That’s why it feels calm instead of heavy. Tradition says he died very close to the time he wished for, which is part of why the poem is still remembered.
Ishikawa Takuboku: The Crab on the Beach
Takuboku’s crab poem shows a man crying on a beach and playing with a small crab. It never says why he’s crying. It comes from his 1910 collection A Handful of Sand.
On the Eastern Sea,
on the shore of a small island,
on the white sand,
I, my face wet with tears,
am playingwith a crab.
Look at what the poem leaves out. One odd, small action tells you more than an explanation would. Anyone who has fiddled with something meaningless while overwhelmed knows exactly what he’s feeling.
Machi Tawara: Salad Anniversary (modern)
Tawara’s 1987 collection sold millions in Japan and brought tanka to everyday readers.
This is her most quoted poem:
“This is what I’ll call
our salad anniversary
the day you said
that my cooking tasted
the way July should feel.”
It works because it turns a throwaway domestic moment into a private milestone. No grand declaration, just a date quietly claimed. That compression of feeling into the ordinary is modern tanka at its best.
How to Write a Tanka Poem
Pick one small moment, describe it in three lines, then use two lines to show what it made you feel.
Step 1: Pick One Small Moment
Start with something specific, not a big feeling. A wet umbrella by the door, a cooling cup of tea, a missed call. These are the right size for tanka.
The smaller and more concrete the moment, the stronger your poem will be. If you can see it, hear it, or touch it, it belongs here.
Step 2: Describe the Moment in Three Lines
Write your first three lines around what your senses catch. Name the exact thing: “a blue mug” not “an object”; “rain on the window” not “bad weather.”
Follow the 5-7-5 syllable pattern if it helps you stay focused, but don’t force a count that makes the line sound awkward. Natural rhythm matters more than perfect math.
Step 3: Show the Feeling in the Last Two Lines
These two lines shift inward, but don’t name the emotion. Saying “I am sad” tells the reader nothing. Saying “I have not washed it in weeks” makes them feel it.
Let a single image or action carry the weight. Aim for 7-7 syllables, but again, a line that sounds right beats one that counts right.
Step 4: Read It Out Loud and Cut What Doesn’t Work
Say the whole poem aloud before you call it done. You will hear where it drags. Cut filler words like “very,” “so,” and “just.” If a line is one syllable off but flows naturally, keep it. Use “I” freely. Tanka has a long tradition of direct first-person voice, and it suits the form.
Tanka vs Haiku: What the Extra Two Lines Do
A tanka is a haiku’s opening image plus two more lines for the speaker’s reaction.
| Tanka | Haiku | |
| Lines and count | 5 lines, 31 sound units (5-7-5-7-7) | 3 lines, 17 sound units (5-7-5) |
| Main job | Shows a moment, then the speaker’s reaction to it | Captures a single moment, usually from nature |
| Feelings | Can be suggested or stated | Usually left unspoken |
| Season word | Not required | Traditionally included |
| Voice | Often personal and first-person | Often a quiet observer |
| Origin | Comes from waka, the court poetry of the Man’yōshū (8th century) | Broke away from the opening verse of renga, a linked-poem form; Masaoka Shiki popularised the name “haiku” in the late 1800s |
The first three lines of a tanka look a lot like a haiku. The extra two lines are where the speaker steps in and reacts. In the kettle poem, the click, the cooling water, and the mug are the scene, and the last two lines are the feeling.
Both forms grew from the same roots, but the tanka has room to say what the moment meant.
Where Tanka Came From and What It Was For
Tanka began over a thousand years ago in Japan as a way for people to talk to each other, especially at court.
It grew out of an older tradition called waka, and the Man’yōshū, compiled in the eighth century, holds about 4,500 poems, most of them tanka.
At court, you sent tanka to people you were courting, wrote them back in reply, and shared them at farewells. A clumsy one could cost you some respect.
Starting in the late 1800s, Masaoka Shiki began pushing for a fresher style, his tanka reform essays were serialised from 1898, and by the early twentieth century he had established “tanka” as the standard name.
Today it’s still a way to say something true in the smallest space that will hold it. Pick a small moment and write one tonight.
Final Takeaway
A tanka poem comes down to one habit: Notice something small, then let it say what you feel. The 5-7-5-7-7 count is a guide, and English lets you bend it. What matters is the turn, where the image gives way to the feeling.
That habit is why this form still matters. It teaches you to pay attention to a mug, a bus stop, a quiet kitchen, and to trust that a few words can carry a lot.
So try one tonight. Pick a moment from your day, write your five lines, and drop them in the comments. I’d love to read what you notice.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is the most famous haiku of all time?
The most famous haiku of all time is Matsuo Bashō’s frog poem: “An old silent pond / A frog jumps into the pond / Splash! Silence again.”
What is a famous example of tanka poetry?
Ono no Komachi’s poem about cherry blossoms fading in a long rain is one of the best known. Machi Tawara’s “Salad Anniversary” is a popular modern one.
Do Tanka Poems Have to Rhyme?
No, tanka poems do not have to rhyme.
What is the difference between tanka and haiku?
A haiku has three lines and captures a single moment, usually from nature. A tanka has five lines, and the extra two give the speaker room to react.
