How Wonderful

The Trip

Matsuo Basho reveals to his disciple Kyori that he and his neighbor Kawai Sora are planning a trip. The trip that would make Basho famous.

How wonderful!
This year, this Spring
As I journey under the sky (Sora)
I おもしろやことしの春も旅のそら
omoshiro ya / kotoshi no Itam mo / tabi no sora
Matsuo Basho, Spring 1689

The trip was to become Oku no Hosomichi, a nine month journey into Japan’s Northern Interior. The notes and haiku Basho wrote along the way would not be published until eight years after Basho’ death in 1694. It would in time make his name immortal.

According to a disciple of Basho, Mukai Kyori (向井去来, 1651–1704), this haiku was written as a way of saying he was going on a trip with his neighbor Sora, whose name means “sky.” After Basho’s death in 1694, Kyori published stories about his master.

Here is one example of Kyori’s haiku. The smartweed suggest Kyori had health issues (like Basho) and the firefly emphasizes the fleeting nature of life.

草の戸に我は蓼くふほたる哉
kusa no to ni ware wa tade kuu hotaru kana

in a dreary hut of wood and grass,
feeding on smartweeds am I
— a firefly!
Mukai Kyori, 向井去来, 1651–1704

[kusa no to ni (in a thatched roof hut) ware wa (I am) tade kuu (eating smartweed) hotaru (firefly) kana (used for emphasis)] The mention of Smartweed suggest that Kyori like Basho had health issues. Smartweed can be found in wet marshland. It is an herbal medicine taken to stop bleeding from hemorrhoids.

Source of Kyori’s haiku: World Haiku Review

Presumably, Kyori had in mind this Basho’s haiku written about leaving his cottage. It begins with the same three characters 草の戸, kusa no to. Basho cottage is being taken by a family with young girls. Presumably, written on the third of March, Doll’s Day, celebrated in Japan as Hinamatsuri 雛祭り.

in my simple cottage
will come a world of change
full of dolls

草の戸も住替はる代ぞひなの家
kusa no to mo . sumi kawaru yo zo . hina no ie
Matsuo Basho, March 3, 1689

Shogun

When the Dutch “Kapitan” comes to greet the Shogun in Edo in Spring.

甲比丹も. つくばはせけり . 君が春
kapitan mo . tsu kuba wasekeri . kimi ga haru
the Red (Dutch) Captain,
when he comes, cowering before
his Master each Spring
Tosei (Matsuo Basho), Spring 1678

Wisely

Each Spring, the Dutch made a long winding procession to pay homage to the Shogun in Edo. The procession began in Nagasaki, the only port open to Dutch trade. The first known procession was in 1627. At the front, in a carriage, carried on the shoulders of six men, was Pieter Nuyts, the designated Dutch councilor of the Indies. He was followed by some three Dutch soldiers, armed samurai, their pages, and translators.

This tradition was either yearly or every two years, or less often, up until 1790.

Wisely, one thinks, Matsuo Basho did not engage in political debate. He was born in 1644
near Ueno, Iga Province, and as a young boy served a Samaurai master in Ueno Castle. His master, Tōdō Yoshitada, gave him his first taste of poetry, but Yoshitada’s death in 1666, left the young poet on his own at the age of 22. Six years in Kyoto, where his nascent poems were published in anthologies, then, in 1672, at the age of 28, the poet moved to Edo, the seat of power of the Shogunate, and the reigning Tokugawa Ietsuna (徳川家綱), the fourth in the line of Tokugawa shoguns who brought peace and stability to Japan.

Notes on Translation

My understanding of this haiku is certainly amateurish, but still one tries, and tries again.

kapitan mo . tsu kuba wasekeri . kimi ga haru

Kapitan mo 甲比丹, kapitan, an obvious homophone for “kapitein,” the Dutch word for captain. Mo referring to the unfamiliar red face or red hair of the Dutch visitors. After briefly trading with the Spanish and Portuguese, the Japanese limited their trade with Europeans almost exclusively to the Dutch. The Shogun excluded the Catholic Spain and Portugal for proselytizing. The English had some early trade but it did not appear to be profitable.

Tsukubu, kneels, cowers? In another post, I tried to relate Tsukaba to Mt. Tsukaba, which is north of Edo, but now I am doubtful.

If we are looking for hidden meanings, one may take the fact that the Dutch would have had to make their way past Mt. Fuji, the symbol of Japan, and the symbol of the gods. Tsu, meaning “both,” referring to the fact that Mt. Fuji was the true symbol of divine power, one the Shogun also respected, and was watched over by.

Wase はせ, somewhat unclear to me. I suspect some wordplay. Possibly relating to the wavy line of the procession. Keri, a suffix, used to indicate past tense, or realization. は (wa, or ha) may indicate “as you wish.”

Kimi, sovereign, lord or master. Take your pick.

One observes that, as in all poetry, a syllable can be grouped in one phrase or the next, depending on intonation and meaning. If we follow the standard haiku practice of 5.7.5, my grouping is correct except in the fact that we are one syllable short in the first phrase. Perhaps,m their is a nuance in the Japanese adoption of the title “captain” into Japanese. Tsu often has the meaning of “too” or “also”. I have given it the idea of “when he comes”.

On Trying

I’ve tried, I’ve tried again,
I suppose,
I’ll try again
Bashō no yōna, New year, 2024

On Sisyphus, the Greek who would roll an immense boulder up a hill only for it to roll back down again; on Albert Einstein, who defined insanity as doing something over and over again expecting a different result; on writing the perfect haiku. Matuso Basho composed tens of thousands of haiku in his lifetime, a thousand or so were recorded.

His most famous haiku, the one that made him famous, is about a frog, a pond, and the sound of water.

古池や蛙飛こむ水のをと

Furuike ya | an old pond
kawazu tobikomu | a frog, any frog, big or small
mizu no oto | sound of water
Matsuo Basho, 1686

Funny that, it has been translated in so many ways and languages.

une petite grenouille, un vieil étang, qu’est-ce que c’est, que j’entends l’eau parle

ein Frosch, ein alter Teich, das Wasser spricht

una rana un viejo parca et el agua habla
Basho in other voices

“ein Frosch, ein alter Teich, das Wasser spricht,” but not for the snail who has no eyes or ears

Blossom Drunk

Cherry Blossoms in Edo,
Spring, 1681-2
Basho, age 37-38

In 17th century Edo, women’s fashions are changing.

Drunk on blossoms
a woman in a haori,
pointing with a sword

花に酔えり羽織着て刀さす女
Hana ni yoeri haori kite katana sasu onna
Hana ni ee ri haori kite katana sasu onna
Matsuo Basho, Edo, 1681-2

Translation. Hana (flower, here meaning a cherry blossom) ni (particle to indicate cause) yoeri (to become drunk) haori (a short jacket, women wear over a kimono) kite (wearing) katana (sword) sasu (pointing, stabbing) onna (woman)

Cross-Dressing

Japan was unified under the Tokugawa clan. War was over. Peace was at hand. In Spring, the population turned its attention viewing cherry blossoms and getting sloshed on sake. What one wore was a sign of a person’s status and family background. The haori, a lightweight jacket, became casual wear for samurai warriors and popular attire for up and coming townspeople. Women adopted the style along with the men as it could be worn over a kimono.

But a woman carrying a sword would be quite the site.

Onna-Bugeisha, literally, “female who practices the Art of War.” The 3rd century Empress Jingū, was one of the earliest female warriors. It is likely that Matsuo Basho was familiar with the Tale of Heike which recounts the story of Tomoe Gozen, a female samurai who fought for the Minamoto clan. Basho wrote a haiku about the Genpei War between the Minamoto and the Taira clans.

Gabi Greve and the Japanese site Yamanashi date this haiku to when he was 38 to 40, first to third year of Tenwa, 1681 – 1683. A year before, Matsuo had moved from central Edo to the rural Fukagawa District to take up residence in a simple cottage. A house warming gift of a banana plant (basho) was planted by the front door, and Matsuo had the idea of a new name.

God’s Face

1st year of Genroku,
Spring of 1688,
Basho is 45 years old,
Mt. Yamato Katsuragi

Always seeing within
a flower at the break of dawn
— the face of God
Matsuo Basho, Oi no kibumi, Spring 1685

From the travelogue, Oi no kobumi, a trip from Edo to Iga-Ueno (Basho’s hometown), then to Mt. Yamato Kasuragi in Nara prefecture. In Spring, Bashō came to Mt. Katsuragi to see the cherry blossoms. Near the Shinto shrine for the local god, Hitokotonushi, he wrote this haiku:

猶みたし花に明行神の顔

nao mitashi | always seeing within
hana ni ake yuku | a flower at the break of dawn
kami no kao | the face of God
Matsuo Basho, Oi no kibumi, Spring 1685

The ugly god

Hitokotonushi (一言主), literally, god of one word, meaning that as long as your prayer is short, god will listen to it.

There are several stories about Hitokotonushi-nokami, the god of Mt. Katsuragi. (Dr. Gabi Greve has collected many of them.) One is this: Hitokotonushi had a very ugly face. According to legend, a long time ago, a monk prayed for help, then began building a trail from Mt. Katsuragi to Mt. Kinpu (two Shinto holy sites). Hitokotonushi, embarrassed by his ugly appearance, would only help at night.

David Bowles calls Basho’s haiku “Longing for the Divine.”

And I could use Hitokotonushi’s help.

hana ni ake yuku (花に明行) has given me some trouble translating. First I would say that Goggle Translate gives one “Hana ni myōgyō” with no explanation of myōgyō. Literally, I come up with: hana (flower), but what of ni ake yuku — ni (within) ake (dawn) yuku. Does not 明に mean ‘brightly’? Or perfection? And does not 行くmean ‘going to a place.’

Seeing is believing, if not completely understanding, which is the first step in the “awakening”.

Like David Bowles I am longing for inspiration.

Sakai Hōitsu, Japanese
ca. 1805
detail of image from The Met

Warm Wind

Likely composed in Kyoto, 7th year of the Kanbun era, 1667, age 24.

Perhaps, it was windy.

An East wind, ah
swaying in every direction
— willowy hair

あち東風や . 面々さばき . 柳髪
Achi kochi ya . menmen sabaki . yanagi gami
Matsuo Basho, Kyoto, 1667, age 24

Meanwhile

Here in middle America, last week was unseasonably warm. The weatherman celebrated March first as the first day of Spring. It was a beautiful day for walk in the park with the dogs off leash. A gentle breeze stirring thoughts of Spring.

For the young poet (not yet known as Basho), three years had passed since the death of Todo Yoshitada, his Samurai master and poetic mentor. At the age of 21, the poet ran away to Kyoto, to stroll along the serene Shirakawa River lined with yanagi (willow trees) and sakura (cherry trees). Kyoto would forever stay in his heart, long after he moved to Edo in 1672.

Notes on Translation

Kochi, literally and East wind, a warm breeze. Menmen sabaki, literally, menmen, in every direction; sabaki, judgement. A person sees things as one wants. Yanagi gami, hair that blows to and fro like a willow branch in the wind; yanagi, meaning willow or willow-like, fine and slender.

あち東風や . 面々さばき . 柳髪
Achi kochi ya . menmen sabaki . yanagi-gami

Fading Beauty

Kanbun year 4, 1664
Matsuo Kinsaku (Basho), age 20 or 21,
Kyoto in Spring?

Fading beauty,
she blossoms in old age
— her memories

姥桜咲くや老後の思い出
uba-sakura saku ya rougo no omoide
ubazakura saku ya rougo no omoi-ide
Matsuo Kinsaku (Basho), Spring 1664, age 20 or 21

Notes on Translation

ubazakura (ubasakura) is a particular kind of cherry tree. In Spring, its blossoms appear on leafless branches. It is a metaphor for a woman who is old but still attractive.

uba-sakura (“a faded beauty,” a combination of nursing mother and sakura, cherry blossom) saku (to bloom) ya (emphasis) rougo (old age) no (particle connectining old age and memories) omoide (memory or keepsake)

Becoming Basho

Fukagawa, just outside Edo
Spring of 1681

It had been eight years since our poet (he was not yet called Matsuo Basho) took the momentous step of moving to Edo. Tired of the noise and the crowds, and wanting peace and quiet, he moved to rural Fukagawa, to a simple cottage. There to study and think, to become someone new. The gift of a banana plant (basho) was welcome, but not the silvergrass that grew up alongside it.

by the banana just planted
a sign of something disgusting
— perhaps silvergrass

ばしょう植ゑてまづ憎む荻の二葉哉
bashō uete mazu nikumu ogi no futaba kana
Matsuo Basho, Fukagawa, Spring 1681

bashō (banana) uete (I planted) mazu (first sign) nikumu (hated, disgusting) ogi (silvergrass) no futaba (sprouting) kana (expressing wonder or puzzlement)

ogi, silvergrass, not the ornamental kind that grows in clumps, but the tall, quickly spreading perennial grass I know as Thompson Grass (other names include knotgrass and eternity grass, because it chokes out other plants and is so hard to get rid of).

By removing himself from the fashionable and noisy Nihonbashi District of Edo, to the remote district of Fukagawa, across the Sumida River, which had yet to be connected to Edo by a bridge. our poet was becoming lonely. He was not married and had no children to distract him. Sure, he had a neighbor, Sora . And there were the steady stream of devoted disciples who crossed the river by boat to get instruction in the art of writing haiku, but, still our poet was without the daily social contact that makes one human.

He read other poets. He studied. One inspiration, the 12th century poet Saigyo, who wandered, was having his effect. Our poet was becoming something, someone else.

But what and who?

The cottage where he lived was the gift of a disciple. So too was a banana plant that our poet planted outside his front door. He watered it, and it took to the soil and the sun, and grew. But in the spring, beside it, there was something emerging.

And one day the poet realized that he was like this banana tree.

Frail and useless, withstanding the sun and rain alike, sometimes battered by the wind, but still there.

Inspired, our poet discarded his old pen name, Tosei, meaning ‘unripe peach.’ After all, he had taken that name, inspired by the Tang poet who inspired him with his short four line verses, Li Bai.

Thus, he emerged from his long slumber and took a new name.

Becoming Matsuo Basho.

Note. Some sources date this haiku to 1680 when our poet first moved to the cottage in Fukagawa. But the move took place late in 1680. In winter.

Winters in Tokyo are sunny but dry, and frost free days don’t come until February. That would be a good time to plant a banana plant. And in March, the hated Silvergrass would appear. Basho’s new cottage was close to the Sumida River, and suitable, if not perfect for the annoying Silvergrass.

bashō uete mazu nikumu ogi no futaba kana

let your heart go forth

Spring, 1692

“Parting gift for one heading east,”

let your heart go forth with
a flower blossom and
one set of begging bowls

この心 . 推せよ花に . 五器一具
kono kokoro / suiseyo hana ni / goki ichigu
Matsuo Basho, Spring, 1692

Basho’s Cottage

By the Spring of 1692, Matsuo Basho was nearing the end of his life. He was, most sources agree, back home in Fukagawa caring for his sick nephew Toin and Toin’s wife. Now and then visitors came by to reminisce. It had been two years since Basho’s own well known journey into Japan’s northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi). Perhaps a friend was following in Basho’s footsteps and this was Basho’s parting gift.

kono kokoru (この心), the English translation may be as simple as an affectionate way of saying “this” or “your heart.”

suiseyeo (推せよ), by itself, 推, has a meaning that is unclear to me, perhaps meaning think, talk, conjecture (Google Translate first says “push”), and せよ, meaning “let us.” Combined with hana, flower, one possibly gets the idea of a monk carrying a lotus flower and his set bowls for his daily meal.

goki ichugu, a set of bowls carried by a monk, one for tea or soup, the other for begging. Goki refers to its deep, flared shape that made it suitable for liquids. Goki, elsewhere implies expressing respect. As ichu means “one” and gu refers to a “tool” or “means to,” ichugu may have the underlying meaning of how to live one’s life, that is, simply, like a monk.

Note. Other translations of this haiku may differ. Sometimes I feel like one of Buddha’s blind men in a tent hearing the words of the haiku (or grabbing parts of an elephant) feeling something different from the rest.

To Philosophize

A week at the beach during Spring Break, near Sarasota, Florida, my God, the cars, the crowds, no peace.

“To philosophize is

To learn

To die.”

Michel Montaigne, French

Haiku —

To see the world

In lines of three.

…

The sun, the sand,

The wind, the waves

I finally reached the beach.

On Casey Key,

Poor Pyrrho of Ellis

Couldn’t afford to stay

— Basho no yona

Previously, two plus millennia ago, back in the Peloponnesus…

Pyrrho of Elis (4th c. BC) was an Ancient Greek philosopher who disdained wealth and luxury and preached the philosophy of ataraxia, by suspending judgment about beliefs.

In France and Japan one philosophizes, one waxes poetic.

Michel de Montaigne (1533 – 1592) gave us the essay. Basho gave us the haiku. The beaches along the Florida Keys near Sarasota are a place to rest amid the restless waves.