Autumn deepens, next door, what does my neighbor do?
秋深き / 隣は何を / する人ぞ
aki fukaki / tonari wa nani wo / suru hito zo
Matsuo Basho on the 26th day of the Ninth Month, 1694
Basho was now 51 years old. In the summer of 1694, he left Edo (Tokyo), and after stops in Ueno, his place of birth, and Kyoto, he went to Osaka where he stayed at a country inn. Here he became ill. He was well enough earlier to visit the Sumiyoshi Shinto shrine (住吉大社), but by evening decided against attending a poetry gathering at a disciple’s house and sent this poem.
He died a few weeks later on the twelfth day of the tenth month.
Autumn deepens, the man next door, what does he do for a living?
Zen, which aims at the perfection of the person-hood, must acknowledge the impossibility of knowing someone else. Still, one is curious about others and what they do. Gentle reader, I am curious about you. Are you curious about me?