Snow upon snow

It is said to have been written in the first year of the Jokyo Era (貞享), 1684. A compilation of poems including Basho’s had been published called Shriveled Chestnuts. And Basho was on the road on the Five Highways on the first of his four major wanderings.

Snow upon snow
Tonight, the last month is December
Is there a full moon or not?

雪と雪 . 今宵師走の . 名月か
Yuki to yuki . Koyoi shiwasu no . Meigetsu ya
— Matsuo Basho

Version Two, when there is a glimmer of hope.

Snow upon snow
Tonight, the last month
Is there a sliver of a moon or not?

The Moon 月

It has been said that this haiku was written to settle a disagreement between two individuals (snow upon snow), each part frozen and unwilling to compromise. The moon was supposed to mediate the differences, but the cloudy weather and the snow got in the way. Tsuki is any moon. Meigtsu, refers to a full moon. A sliver of a moon (mikazuki) seems appropriate if we are trying to patch up differences.

雪と雪 . 今宵師走の . 名月か
Yuki to yuki . Koyoi shiwasu no . Meigetsu ya
image, Wikipedia

Hail

Lake Biwa at night
plucking the shamisen
the pounding hail
— Matsuo Basho, Fall, 1684

Lake Biwa / at night, the three string shamisen / sounding (like) the sound of hail
琵琶湖の / 夜や三味線の / 音あられ
Biwakō no / yo ya shamisen no / oto arare

Did he like it?

In the first year of the Jōkyō (1684), on the journey of Nozarashi Kiko, in Ogaki, near the waters of Lake Biwa, at a gathering at Nyogyō’s house, Nyogyō was invited to play a Japanese shamisen. (Background Source: Yamanashi-ken)

(Shamisen 三味線, a three string instrument that sounds something like a banjo.)

**琵琶湖の / 夜や三味線の / 音あられ**
**Biwakō no / yo ya shamisen no / oto arare**

The sound of tossing rice

Winter overlooks
this home, for the tossing of rice
is like the sound of sleet

冬知らぬ宿や籾摺る音霰
fuyu shiranu / yado ya momi suru / oto arare

— In the first year of the Tei-Kyō era (1684), Matsuo Basho, age 41.

Let’s trick Mother Nature by tossing rice in a basket while cold sleet pounds the roof.

Preparing rice by tossing it in a basket to remove the husks is a long forgotten task to the modern family. Rice comes in bags ready to cook. In Basho’s time, removing the chaff from the grain would precede tossing the rice in the boiling water. Add to this soothing sound, the happy chatter of the family inside a warm home, and the sound of the cold snow or sleet falling outside, and you have the makings of a warm winter haiku.

Fuyu shiranu — one, winter doesn’t know; winter passes by; three, winter misses; four, invisible to winter. Basho wrote this poem during his journey he called “Nozarashi Kiko.” He was on his way to the Nagao shrine in Katsuragi in Nara, when he stopped at the home of a wealthy family.