Happy New Year

The Year of the Dragon

New Year, 1685

From the Nozarashi kiko (1684-1685), the year after his mother died. From Edo, along the Tokaido Road, home to Iga, then to Nagoya, on the road to Nara, Basho chanted verse to himself, as we all like to do when we walk alone.

年暮れぬ . 笠きて草鞋 . はきながら
Toshi kurenu . kasa kite waraji . haki nagara
The year is fading,
wearing a hat and straw sandals,
while aspiring to keep it together
Matsuo Basho, Nozarashi kikō, New Year, 1685

toshi (year) kurenu (getting dark, fading) kasa (covering hat, often made of bamboo) kite waraji (straw sandals) haki (can mean drive or ambition) nagara (while, simultaneously)

Maybe Basho’s student is aspiring to find a little more meaning in an otherwise straight forward haiku. Most transalators do no better than to say,

“Another year is gone, and I still wear a bamboo hat and straw sandals.”

Americans have a saying “squeeze the lemon” which can mean getting the last ounce of goodness out of something. A pejorative twist is to get everything you can from another person, for good or bad. And then sometimes, when you squeeze a lemon all you get is lemon juice, meaning “that’s it.”

Bashō no yōna often thinks there is more to a haiku, and there isn’t.

The Lunar New Year this year comes February the 10th. It will be the year of the dragon, which I suppose is something. And if you are born this year then you are naturally lucky and gifted.

Squeeze the lemon
All you get
is lemon juice
.
easy peasy
lemon squeezy
that was easy
.
mi kasa
y su kasa
make two kasa
Bashō no yōna

Toshi kurenu . kasa kite waraji . haki nagara

New Year 2024

Monkey See Monkey Do

“Monkey see, monkey do” is an old saying meaning doing something without understanding what one is doing.

AI and Monkeys

I tested Chatgpt to come up with a New Year haiku and got this:

Midnight whispers cease,
Hope unfurls in quiet dawn,
New year’s breath begins.
Chatgpt, New Year haiku, 2023

Next year, I will try it again, and again…

年々や – 猿に着せたる – 猿の面
Toshi doshi ya – saru ni kisetaru – saru no men

Year after year,
dressed like a monkey
wearing a monkey mask
Matsuo Basho, New Year, 1693

Penultimate

Matsuo Basho gave us this one in the next to very last year of his life. Penultimate, is a fancy word for it. Meaning, next to last. (Basho died in November of 1694.) Basho was, one presumes, visiting the Sarutahiko Shrine in Ise, Mie, near his hometown. A bitter farewell to the old year, a farewell to home and youth. Before the New Year one buys a monkey mask to ward off evil spirits.

I sense some irony in humans aping monkeys and not the other way around.

Monkeys Typing

Speaking of monkeys and AI, there is the infinite monkey theorem that states that a monkey randomly clicking keys on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will produce all the great literature of the world, and what remains to written.

Which is scary, if one has the time to read it.

Coincidentally, the ending year, 1692, had been the year of the monkey. The next year of the monkey won’t begin until February of 2028.

And yes, I know, the Japanese New Year correctly begins in February.

Monkey Sanbaso Dancing, Mori Sosen 森狙仙, the first day of the Monkey year, 1800,
source, USC Pacific Asia Museum

Mori Sosen, a Japanese painter of the Shijō school during the Edo period, was famous for painting monkeys over and over again.

First News

Last year, first news
Genroku, 7th year, 1694
New Year’s Feast at Edo

The news is not good in Edo. It is cold. His sick nephew Toin, who he had taken in, had died of tuberculosis, and Basho is alone in his cottage. Basho himself is dealing with recurring stomach problems. At a New Year’s gathering, Basho wants to hear of the news at the Grand Shrine at Ise.

In the summer of 1694, Basho would leave his cottage for the last time. He would die in November.

At a New Year’s Feast
I want to hear
The first news at Ise

蓬莱に聞かばや伊勢の初便り
hōrai ni kika baya Ise no hatsu dayori
Matsuo Basho, Edo, New Year 1694

Grand Shrine of Ise

Matsuo Basho visited the Grand Shrine at Ise many times. This is not surprising since the Buddhist shrine is in Mie province, near to Iga-Ueno where Basho was born. On the New Year the shrine is particularly popular with visitors and the news would be buzzing about.

hōrai (a New Year’s feast) ni (a participle to indicate location); kika hear, ask, listen; baya (want) Ise (Grand Shrine of Ise) no (participle connecting Ise with the New Year tidings) hatsu dayori (hatsu, first time, and dayori, news of tidings, New Year’s news or tidings)

Horai. A paradise based upon the Chinese Penglai. In Horai there is no death, no pain, and there is no winter. Horai also refers to the New Year’s banquet.

toshidoshi – year after year,

monkey on motorcycle in front of nuclear plant

The master said, “Year after year, people stop at the same place and do the same thing, making resolutions and throwing them away.” The year 1693 is ending. Matsuo Basho, age 49, is back in Edo in his familiar Basho–an (his third Banana Hut). He was living there quietly with few guests. To others he was saying, “saru” go away. Now he is wondering — “Am I making any progress?”

年々や/ 猿に着せたる/ 猿の面
toshidoshi ya/ saru ni kisetaru/ saru no men

year after year,
dressed like a monkey
in a monkey’s mask
Matsuo Basho, 6th year of Genroku (元禄6年元旦), 1693

Year after year

It was the 6th year of the reign of Emperor Higashiyama Genroku of Japan. Ninety years since Tokugawa Ieyasu was designated Shogun, the start of the Edo Period. Almost 60 years had passed since the policy barring Japanese from leaving the island and foreigners from entering on pain of death.

At the Hatsukoshin Festival, during the New Year, one buys a monkey mask to ward off evil spirits, as the Japanese word for “monkey” (saru) is a homophone of “go away.”

Matsuo Basho would die in November of 1694.

[previously translated last New Year’s Eve]

Toshi, meaning year. Doshi meaning constantly, without interuption. Toshi-doshi, 年々, year after year.

So what if the past was hard,
today, you can
begin again.
Buddha

Shiwasu, December

Being rushed,
I give a forget-the-year party
In a good mood,
I wonder?

Setsuka rete Toshi wasure suru Kigen kana

せつかれて　年忘れする　機嫌かな

**Shiwasu, December, Priests rushing to make ready the Temple**

Forget the Year

I have no year for which to date Matsuo Basho’s New Year’s haiku. The winter of 1682 is a likely year, for his Banana Hut was destroyed in a fire. The following year his mother died. There are perhaps other likely candidates, but I don’t suppose we will know.

This haiku is like a scrap of paper fallen from a pocket as one fiddles about for change to feed the parking meter when rushing about on New Year’s Eve.

Of course it is now January 2021. Being rushed by the holidays, worried about a pandemic, and an election crisis, I almost forgot to celebrate the passing of 2020. Or, Basho would agree, I simply wanted to forget an awful 2020.

Shiwasu, 師

In 17th century Japan, Japanese families prepared for the New Year’s Eve party by rushing to a Shinto shrine to venerate their ancestors. For this reason, December is given the name Shiwasu, 師走, which translates as the “month of running priests” who are busy sweeping up and setting out candles. At the temples and shrines, wishes for the new year must be made, and new omamori (charms) bought and old ones returned to be be burned.

Today, as back then, there is a bit of sadness mixed in with gladness. The Japanese call these New Year’s parties 忘年会, bonenkai, literally forget the year party. For Basho, this becomes 年忘れする, toshi wasure suru, forget the year. Perhaps it was a bad year.

We all have those. And come the New Year don’t we wish to be in a good mood, 機嫌 Kigen. I wonder, かな, kana. And don’t some like to keep grudges. Hmmm?

New Year, Second Day

正月が二日有ても皺手哉
shôgatsu ga futsuka arite mo shiwade kana

New Year, Second Day,
but already
wrinkled hands

First Month, Second Day
but already
wrinkled hands

I suppose that the first thing a child notices about an aging mother, before the gray hair, are the veins and wrinkles that appear on a mother’s careworn hands.

Kobayashi Issa

Japanese poet Kobayashi Issa (1763 – 1828) offers up this guest haiku. Basho would not object, ther is much to learn from others.

The pen name, Issa (一茶), means “cup of tea” which summarizes the subject matter of Issa’s poems — things to his liking, simple things to be enjoyed, something to think over. Issa gives no date for his poem, but we can guess that he was already advanced in years, if not in his understanding of life’s short lease.

There are perhaps two comments worth making. First, that 正月, shôgatsu in Issa’s time meant the first day of spring by the lunar calendar. For that reason, I suppose, if asked, Issa would prefer the literal “First Month, Second Day”.

Second, that Issa’s life was marked by tragedy and sorrow — the death of his first wife and three children, a failed second marriage, and his home burning down. Issa’s response to this was —

In a world of grief and pain
Flowers bloom
Even then

Issa would enter into a third marriage, but Issa died before the birth of his daughter.

Three in One

three in one cup,
but I drink to one name,
who am I, this night?

盃に三つの名を飲む今宵かな

sakazuki ni mitsu no na o nomu koyoi kana

Oct. 23, 1685, Edo

Everyone likes a good riddle. So who was Matsuo Basho toasting?

On this date in Japanese history, Yamaga Sokō, original name Yamaga Takasuke died. He was a military strategist, Confucian philosopher, and originator of what would become the Bushido Code by which all Samurai would operate.

Three in One conjures up an image of the Holy Trinity, the Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit. Three for One, makes one also think Alexandre Dumas‘ 19th century novel Three Musketeers, who proclaimed, “Un pour tous, tous pour un. (One for all, and all for one.)”

Sakazuki Takasuke!

No, Basho likely had in mind Takasuke in offering up Sakazuki, a ceremonial cup of wine. This is speculation, but it fits nicely. Basho being descended from a Samurai family would want to honor another. Takasuke Sakazuki! Takasuke Sakazuki! Takasuke Sakazuki! The honorific was said three times.

Li Bai

Matsuo Basho also had in mind 8th century Chinese poet Li Bai (太白,744–762). He of many titles including the Transcendent Poet, Banished Immortal, and Green Lotus House Warrior. The first for his skill as a poet, the second for his prodigious drinking, and the third as an artist.

Basho’s haiku is a response to Li Bai’s well-known poem Under the Moon, Drinking Alone.

In the midst of flowers, with one jug of wine
Drinking alone, and no one else,
I offer up my cup, to the bright moon
My shadows and I, a party of three.

Three

Why three? Things that come in threes are funnier, interesting, and more memorable. Comedians, magicians, and poets know to set up a sequence with three short lines, then the punch line. Three is mystical. The Holy Trinity, as I’ve said. It also creates a unique pattern and a relationship that the brain can understand. The Three Blind Mice, The Three Little Pigs, The Three Stooges. Three is also an odd number, the first Prime number, if one excludes the number “one.” Two fit together nicely, but three rarely do.

Basho explains

By way of explanation, Basho’s haiku came at gathering for moon-viewing (観月) at his home in the fall of 1685. He he had returned to Edo and his Banana Hut after the first of his wanderings. Present were three friends all named Shichiroubei. No doubt Basho founds some humor in the homonyms, zuki, as in cup, and tsuki, moon; as well as the visual similarity of the flat circular cup and the circular full moon.

Basho ends his haiku alliteratively with koyoi kana, 今宵, literally, this night, but also a question, as in, who am I?

Sakazuki

Gentle Reader, nomu, 飲む, let’s drink: Akemashite omedeto gozaimasu

Basho’s New Year Haiku

William Shakespeare, Basho’s near contemporary, thought of theater as life, and life as theater: “All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players.” (As You Like It, 1603). Matsuo Basho too, was fond of theater, in particular Noh theater in which the main players wore masks to represent emotions. For Basho, the year 1694, the play comes to an end.

年々や猿に着せたる猿の面

Toshi doshi ya/ saru ni kisetaru/ saru no men

Year after year, it’s a monkey in a monkey’s mask
— Matsuo Basho, December 1693

1693 – 23 months to go

[Revised January 2020, revised December 2020]

1693 has ended, 1694 has arrived. In Buddhism, there is no self in any being, nor any essence in any thing. Still a monkey still wears a monkey face.

Toshi doshi, year after year. If we count by the Gregorian calendar, Matsuo Basho had 23 months to live when he wrote this haiku. If we count by the lunar calendar which Basho followed, then it was less. Remember, in 17th century Japan, New Year was based on a lunar calendar. It was the first day of spring, and the rebirth of life after winter’s slumber.

The end of 1693, we find Matsuo Basho, age 49, back in his familiar Banana Hut (basho–an), in the Fukagawa District across the Sumida River from Edo. In August he takes no visitors. The year 1694 arrives and he finds “no peace of mind”.

Of this haiku Basho remarked:

“I jotted down this haiku because I was sad to see people stuck, struggling in the same way, year in and year out.”

Notes on Translation

Toshi doshi, 年々や, year after year. Basho would repeat this sentiment in another haiku.

Toshi doshi ya / sakura o koyasu / hana no chiri.
Year after year, falling blossoms nourish the cherry tree.
Spring, 1691.

Saru no men, 猿の面, could easily be translated as monkey face or mask. The phrase is phonetically similar to the idiomatic saru mane, 猿真似, “monkey imitation,” “monkey see monkey do”.

Noh Theater and Sarugaku

In Noh Theater masks expressed human emotions and a monkey mask represented someone acting foolishly. Sarugaku, 猿楽, “monkey music” was also a popular form of entertainment consisting of acrobatics, juggling, and pantomime, sometimes combined with drum dancing, later including word play reminiscent of Basho’s own haiku.