Said the Spider

Spider, spider, speak again!
what’s that you cry
— the autumn wind.
蜘蛛何と音をなにと鳴く秋の風
くもなにとねをなにとなくあきのかぜ
kumo nani to / ne o nani to naku / aki no kaze

Matsuo Basho, Edo, Autumn 1680

After a night of rain in the ninth month, the morning sun shines fresh. …On bamboo fences and criss-crossed hedges I saw spider webs all in tatters; and on the broken threads raindrops hung like strings of white pearls.

The Pillow Book, Sei Shionagon, 10th c.

The Mystery

Most spiders make no sounds at all, but a few can produce noises. I am no expert on Japanese spiders. The common Jumping spider is cute, but it makes no sound. The giant Joro spider is as big as your palm, again no sound unless it is “squish” when you step on it.

Basho’s haiku was inspired by the female poet Sei Shonagon and her delightful diary of court life, The Pillow Book (Makura no Soshi). Basho substitutes spiders for bagworms. Sei generally speaks of insects as creepy crawly things to be feared, but here she sees the beauty in the web they’ve spun. Another poem speaks of minomushi, the bagworm that makes a sound chichi-yo, chichi-yo, which sounds like “father, father.”

[Note. Chichi-ue (父上 — ちちうえ), an archaic word for ‘honored father’ in Japanese. Compare:
父母のしきりに恋し雉の声
chichi haha no shikiri ni koishi kiji no koe
I long for my dead parents]

The Bagworm

Next year, Basho would muse about the bagworm, composing a haiku for his housewarming on the occasion of moving to Fukagawa into his new “humble” home, Basho-an. This would also be the occasion of Matsuo becoming Basho. Like the bagworm, and its insignificant sound, coming into the world.

Come listen to the sound
a bagworm coming into the world
— in my grass hut

蓑虫の音を聞きに来よ草の庵
minomushi no ne o kiki ni koyo kusa no io

Matsuo Basho, Fukagawa, Basho-an, 1681?

Nani to naku, in the first haiku, sounding like the word nothing — なに と なく.