It’s late September, in my garden, as the flowers are fading, radishes are all that are left. Here are two haiku by Matsuo Basho on the subject of daikon, 大根 a Japanese white radish.

Samurai —
bitter as radishes,
when they speak!

もののふの大根苦しき話哉
mononofu no daikon nigaki hanashi kana

Matsuo Basho, Edo, Fall 1693

mononofu (samurai) no (used here for emphasis, samurai and radishes, what do you make of that?) daikon (white radish) nigaki (bitter) hanashi (to talk or speak, story) kana (I wonder)

Daikon radishes that Basho speaks of are milder than red radishes. The young leaves add zest to a salad. Cooking softens the bitterness.

The Last Flower

In Kansas, Sunflowers bloom late, Chrysanthemums later.

The date of the following haiku is uncertain. We can guess that it was written after the Kiku no Sekku Festival that takes place on the 9th day of the 9th lunar month (now on September 9th). This would be late in the year when frost had killed all the plants excepting the radishes.

Artists and poets admired chrysanthemums and were saddened by their disappearance, thinking the last flower has blossomed. In one sense, Basho is asking, isn’t there the radish?

When the chrysanthemums are gone,
radishes
are all that are left

菊の後 大根の外更 になし
kiku no ato daikon no hoka sara ni nashi

Matsuo Basho, Fall 1691?

kiku no ato (kiku, chrysanthemums, no ato, after) daikon (radishes) no hoka (outside of) sara (to experience) ni nashi (to nothing)

Indeed, here is a poem by a Chinese poet of the Tang dynasty, Yuan Zhen:

Chrysanthemums
Around my cottage, like Tao Qian, autumn flowers grow,
The fence around falling down day by day.
Among my flowers I love the chrysanthemum best,
Once you bloom, nothing follows.

秋叢繞舍似陶家,
遍繞籬邊日漸斜.
不是花中偏愛菊,
此花開盡更無花.

Qiū cóng rào shě shì táo jiā,
biàn rào lí biān rìjiàn xié.
Bùshì huā zhōng piān’ài jú,
cǐhuā kāi jìn gèng wú huā.

Yuan Zhen, 779-831, late Tang dynaty

Tao Qian, a poet of Jin Dynasty (4th and 5th century).