Shrimp Tonight?

Otsu, Shiga province, Summer 1690.
One wonders if death was on his mind:

やがてしぬけしきはみえず蝉の声
yagate shinu keshiki mo miezu semi no koe

Before long
the sounds of cicadas
will cease
Matsuo Basho, Otsu, Summer-Fall, 1690

At the conclusion of his nine month journey into the northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi), Matsuo Basho visited friends around Kyoto. He delayed his return to Edo, in the summer and fall of 1690, staying for almost four months at Otsu on Lake Biwa in a cottage known as Genju-an (the Unreal Cottage).

Yagate (before long) shinu (to die, pass away, cease) keshiki (scene, landscap) mo miezu (not hear or see) semi no koe (the voice of a cicada)

Then, as autumn approached he went to the fish market for dinner.

A fisherman’s shop, hmmm
Shrimp is mingled with
a camel-cricket, so what

海士の屋は小海老にまじるいとど哉

ama no ya wa koebi ni majiru itodo kana
Matsuo Basho, Sarumino, Otsu, Autumn, 1690

Shrimp is still served at Otsu’s restaurants in Shiga province. The shrimp are river and lake shrimp, so it is easy to see how a cricket can make its way into the fisherman’s catch.

Ama no ya (a fish shop) wa (possibly meaning hmmm or yes) koebi (small river shrimp, but I am not a culinary expert) ni majiru (mixed or mingled) itodo (a camel cricket — it looks like shrimp, picture a hump back cricket hiding in a basket of shrimp) kana (interrogative, well? or, what do you make of that?)

[Note. Matsuo Basho is buried in Otsu, on the ground of a Buddhist temple, Gichū-ji (義仲寺).]

Hydrangeas

Ajisai, 紫陽草

It is August in the Midwest, my hydrangeas (ajisai) are spent, wilting in the afternoon sun, the colors fading, the once stunning and colorful flowers now withered and dry. Until the Edo Period, the Samurai saw this perennial flower as a symbol of immortality, but the changing colors and wilting flowers made them less favored. Matsuo Basho took up the hydrangea twice. The second time was in the summer of 1694, just before he made his very last trip.

hydrangeas —
it’s time for summer clothes
in pale blue
紫陽草や帷子時の薄浅黄
ajisai ya katabira-doki no usu asagi
Matsuo Basho, undated, Summer

ajisai (hydrangea) ya (exclamation) katabira (a thin kimono for mornings or summer wear) doki no (of) usu (thin) asagi (pale blue).

Note. Asagi-iro, 浅葱色 means pale blue. Basho uses the characters 薄浅黄, which Google Translate interprets as usu-asaki, ‘pale yellow.’ Not sure why the discrepancy exists.

hydrangea —
a little thicket in my garden,
another sitting room

紫陽草や薮を小庭の別座敷
ajisai ya yabu-o koniwa no betsu zashiki
Matsuo Basho, Edo, Fukagawa, Summer 1694

ajisai (hydrangeas) ya (exclamation) yabu-o (thicket, a homophone for one who dabbles in Zen meditation, used as the direct object in the haiku) koniwa (small garden) no (of) betsu (separate) zashiki (tatami room, sitting room)

The Summer of 1694

Basho left Edo and his simple cottage in Fukagawa for the last time in the summer of 1694.

In 1691, his nephew Toin joined him at the cottage, and it is likely Toin’s wife, Jutei and four children were there as well. This and the many guest who came to visit created the need for a detached sitting room (tatami).

Attributed to Ogata Kōrin, 18th c., detail, from Metropolitan Museum

Kogō

From the Saga Diary
Arashiyama Bamboo Grove, Sagano
Genroku year 4, 1691
Basho, 48 years old

Kogō, 古豪 was a beautiful woman, consort to the emperor. She is banished after being caught in a love triangle. Her grave was in a bamboo grove.

painful beings,
becoming part of a bamboo stalk
in the end

憂き節や竹の子となる人の果て
uki fushi ya takenoko to naru hito no hate
Matsuo Basho, Saga Diary, Summer, 1691

Kogo (小督局, 1157-?), in 1172, she became consort to the Emperor Takakura at the end of Heian period (794-1195). A talented zither player, she was called Kogo no tsubone. She was the subject of a Noh play and historical character in the Tale of the Heike.

Notes on Translation

Bamboo nodes, the section between each ring on a bamboo stalk. Bamboo shoots (takenoko) are the shoots that come up out of the ground. They are edible if cooked to remove toxins. This is a reference to life’s struggle and to its cycle. Compare the Biblical phrase, “Dust to dust.”

Arashiyama Bamboo Grove, a great place to visit in Kyoto.

Basho’s follower Mukai Kyorai had a cottage in Saga on the western outskirts of Kyoto. Basho stayed here for a couple of weeks in 1691, returning to Edo by the end of the year.

ukifushi, a painful thing, something that grows stronger as time goes by.

uki (worrisome, bothersome) fushi (bamboo node) ya (empahsis) takenoko (bamboo shoot, stalk) to (and) naru (become) hito (man) no (of) hate (end, limit)

Morning-glories

Basho-an (Basho’s cottage) at Fukagwa, outside Edo, Summer, 1693

The morning-glories growing along the fence have made a chain that keeps guests out.

By the late summer of 1693, Matsuo Basho was feeling unwell and tired of guests. The morning-glories trailing along the fence must have looked like a chain to keep away guests. On this day, he must have been feeling better as he was willing to unlock the gate.

Morning-glories!
Now that it is daytime, let down the chain
That locks the gate at the fence.

朝顔や昼は鎖おろす門の垣
Asagao ya hiru wa jo orosu mon mo kaki
Matsuo Basho, Summer, 1693

Locked Out

Not being a native Japanese speaker, I struggle to get the sense of Basho’s meaning. But, as the poets says, to learn from the pine, be like the pine. One can put oneself in the place of the morning-glory, locking the guests out, or the guests, who on arriving at Basho’s cottage to visit, find that the tender blossoms and tendrils have locked them out.

Asagao, morning glories bloom from early summer to the first frost of fall. Besides its beauty, the flower buds serve as a laxative which might have helped Basho with his on-going stomach ailment.

Asagao ya (morning glories, followed by an exclamation) hiru (day, daytime) wa (topic marker for daytime) jo (chain, lock) orosu (take down, lower) mon mo kak (gate at the fence)

More morning-glories.

Summer Snow

On holy Mt Haguro, the wind speaks of scented snow.

Genroku 2, June 3, 1689 (July 19 by the solar calendar)
Age 45, Basho climbs Mt. Haguro at Dewa Sanzan
From Oku no Hosomichi

thank you,
for the sweet smell of snow
and the voice of the wind

有難や雪を薫らす風の音
arigata ya / yuki o kaorasu / kaze no oto
Matsuo Basho, Summer, 1689

French

merci,
pour la neige parfumée
et la douce voix du vent
Matsuo Basho, Summer, 1689

Traveling in the Cool Mountains

Well into their journey into Japan’s northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi), Matsuo Basho and Sora are, by now, conditioned travelers . Having come down the rapid Mogami River by boat, they meet Kondo Sakichi (haiku name “Rogan”), and he takes Basho and Sora up the cedar covered mountain to the temple of Haguro-san.

Later at a poetry recitation, Basho thanks his host for the excursion.

Notes on Translation. arigata (thank you) ya (exclamation “!”) yuki (snow) o (a particle indicating a sigh) kaorasu (scented, fragrant in a smoky way) kaze no oto (sound of the wind, voice of the wind)

Dewa Sanzan, 出羽三山, the “three (sacred) mountains of Dewa” in mountainous Yamagata Prefecture.

Bashō no yōna

In the western states of Colorado, Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico the snow stays on the lower mountains well into June, and the 14ers are snow capped all year round. In Utah, one goes from Moab where it is a short drive to Arches National Park and Canyonland, then on to Bryce and Capito Reef, then down the Grand Staircase-Escalante to Zion. The Grand Canyon’s North Rim is closed until the middle of June because of snow. It is a long drive through arrid northern Arizona to the South Rim and the spectacular Grand Canyon.

Miles of Nothing
Until Something,
Spectacular!
— Grand Canyon’s South Rim
Bashō no yōna, late Spring, 2023

The melting snow formed the Grand Canyon over millions of years. One can also enjoy several Colorado waterfalls including misty Thunder Falls and its ever-present rainbow, and the hidden gem of Zapata Falls with its blue ice near the Great Sand Dunes.

Winter’s blanket
Melting snow and raging rivers
— Summer’s hot and cool
Bashō no yōna, late Spring, 2023

Fawns and Fading Stars

July 7, Enpō 6, 1678
Matsuo Basho, 35 years old

Summer or Autumn? What is your favorite season? Why do deer like autumn? A fawn loses its star-like spots. Its coat switches to the dull brown color allowing it to blend into the winter forest. And the fawn is old enough to be weaned. Mothering is done. The season of love has begun.

Autumn will come,
a spouse loves the fading stars
on the fawn

秋来ぬと妻恋ふ星や鹿の革
aki kinu to / tsuma kou hoshi ya / shika no kawa

Tanabata, Double Seven

Matsuo is 35 years old, not yet Basho, the weather beaten banana tree, still Tosei, the unripe peach, taking it all in.

In the midst of summer the theaters and cafes in Edo’s lively Nihonbashi District would have emptied and everyone would sit out under the stars and enjoy the festival of Double Seven.

Summer is here. In the Milky Way, the cowherd and the weaver are lighting up the heavens. On the other hand, when autumn comes, on earth, when mothering is done, the deer will make love.

Tanabata is the Japanese celebration of the meeting of the two stars Vega and Altair, which takes place on July 7th, thus the name Tanabata, Double Seven. Zhinü, 織女 is the weaver girl, (the star Vega) and Niulang, 牛郎, the cowherd, (Altair). In Chinese and Japanese mythology they are two lovers who are separated and meet only once a year.

aki kinu to (autumn will come, when autumn comes) / tsuma (wife, spouse) kou (loves) hoshi (stars) ya (emphasis) / shika no kawa (on the fawn)

aki kinu to tsuma kou hoshi ya shika no kawa

Clip Clop

Tenwa, 3rd year, Summer
1685, Age 41

In late 1684, Matsuo Basho left Edo to once again travel alone on the highways connecting the capital and Kyoto. Along the way he rethought his haiku style and reflected on life. In 1685, as summer ended, he made his way home back to Edo.

A horse, peaceful and quiet
(boku, boku, clip clop)
Oh, I see myself
In a summer field!

馬ぼくぼく/ 我を絵に見る/ 夏野かな
Uma boku boku ga o e ni miru natsuno kana
Matsuo Basho, Summer, 1685

French

Un cheval, calme et tranquille (clic clac)
Oh, je me vois
Une image sur le champ d’été !

Meanwhile in Europe

René Descartes (1596–1650), French mathematician and philosopher, is inquiring into the difference between perception and reality. “Cogito ergo sum,” he concluded, all that I can know is that I think, therefore I am. Basho is one step removed. “Learn about pine trees from the pine, and about bamboo from the bamboo.”

Is Basho now thinking he is the horse, or the rider, peacefully walking through a summer field?

Once in Montmartre

Present day, more or less, remembering.

Either way, Basho is “going to the balcony,” (the painting), a mental attitude of detachment where one can calmly see what is happening.

Years ago, it seems like yesterday, I was with an artist friend in Montmartre, Paris’ artist village that sits on top of a hill. Five French artists were lined up with their subjects in front of a cafe where my friend and drank beer and watched. One artist, the best, would occasionally look away and shake his head before turning back to the canvas. When I asked my friend why he did this, he explained that the artist was removing his preconceived notions from his head, detaching himself from the scene and painting what was there and not what he perceived.

Matsuo Basho riding a horse by Sugiyama Sanpū 杉山杉風 (1647-1732)

Notes on Translation

Uma (horse) boku boku (boku meaning “I” or “me” in a humble way, boku boku, onomatopoeic, the sound of walking), ga (“I”, “myself”) o (“o” separating Basho from the action of riding the horse) e (picture) ni (at) miru (look, looking, watching) natsu (summer) no (field) kana (particle indicating both doubt and exclamation, “oh my”)

Sugiyama Sanpū (1647-1732) was a wealthy fish merchant in Edo and life-long patron of Matsuo Basho. He provide Basho with the Bashoan (banana) cottage in Fukagawa, Edo. Sanpu was present when Basho and Sora set off on the trip that was to become Oku no Hosomichi (1689). Basho referenced Sanpu, saying “the eyes of a fish (meaning Sanpu) are full of tears.”

Wild Abandon

June, 1687

It is June 21. Summer has arrived and everything has changed, or has it? Matsuo Basho is out for a walk, alone, with paper and pen, composing, on a warm day, when suddenly he is startled by a frog jumping into an old familiar pond.

“Poems are never completed — they are abandoned.”
Paul Valery, La Nouvelle Revue Française, 1933

That is close to the truth of what Valery said, but not exactly. Exactly said, it is this: “Aux yeux de ces amateurs d’inquiétude et de perfection, un ouvrage n’est jamais achevé, – mot qui pour eux n’a aucun sens, – mais abandonné.”

In English, it becomes: “In the eyes of these lovers of restlessness and perfection, a work is never finished – a word which for them has no meaning – but abandoned.” As Valery was discussing his poem The Cemetery by the Sea, work becomes “poems”.

Even that, dear friends, is not exact, for Valery goes on to add other words by way of explanation. That is, he adds context. Context is the setting, time, mood, age, feeling, something that clarifies its meaning.

Let us take Matsuo Basho’s well known frog haiku:

Furu ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto

古池や蛙飛こむ水のおと

Old pond — frogs jumps in — sound of water
Matsuo Basho, Jōkyō 3, 1687, age 43

Does it matter if the pond is large or small, covered in lily pads or algae, the frog is startled, that the frog was croaking, that Basho is startled, that he was walking or sitting, thinking, talking, the sound is splash or kerplunk?

The frog disappears. Is this a spiritual transformation? kawasu — 換える, 替える, 代える, are verbs meaning “exchange” or “substitute”. Suddenly, we are on a metaphysical plain.

What if we think or the haiku as a question: What is the sound of water? Of course, it is many things, the sound of waves on the shore, or a mountain stream that flows upon the rocks. What if we ask a small child?

To a frog, she thunk — “kerplunk.”

Thus, to the enlightend Buddhist monk and the delighted little girl, Basho’s haiku is this:

An old pond, the frog that jumps becomes, the sound of water.
Matsuo Basho, revised haiku

Let us write with wild abandon, get lost in thought, never done.
Basho no yona, Summer 2023

An old pond, a frog jumps, the sound of water. To a little girl, she thunk — kerplunk.

My Treat

When a guest arrives, Matsuo Basho has only tiny mosquitos to offer for a feast.

わが宿は蚊の小さきを馳走かな

waga yado wa / ka no chiisaki o / chisō kana

In my hut
the tiny mosquitos,
are my treat!
Matsuo Basho, at Genju-an, Summer 1690

My Treat

Matsuo Basho was staying at the Genju-an (Phantom Dwelling) in Otsu on Lake Biwa, which explains the presence of mosquitos. His guest, Akinobo, was a Japanese monk about whom little is known. Akinobo lived as a hermit in complete simplicity and poverty, begging for some rice to eat in summer and a little charcoal in winter to keep warm. So, it may be that Basho was visiting Akinobo and not the other way around.

waga わが my and yado wa 宿は, inn or hermitage

ka 蚊, mosquito; chiisaki 小さきを, a small thing

chiso 馳走, treat, banquet, feast

By the Sea at Suma

Suma, Japan, Jokyo 5, Genroku 1
Summer 1688, age 45

Poetry — like an arrow, let loose, following its own path.

From the fall of 1687 to the late summer of 1688, Matsuo Basho travelled from Edo to Iga, to the Grand Ise Shrine, on to Nagoya, Osaka, Kyoto and Otsu, and finally to Suma. The poems he wrote along the way became the musings in the book, Oi no Kobumi (笈の小文), Notes from My Knapsack.

at Suma’s seaside
shoot an arrow,
at the cry of a cuckoo

須磨の海士の矢先に鳴くか郭公
Suma no ama no / yasaki ni naku ka / hototogisu (kakkō)
Matsuo Basho, Oi no kobumi, Summer 1688

Notes on Translation

This haiku is best understood if one is familiar with The Tale of the Genji. Genji lived at Suma. One of the tales concerns the 12th century poet and archer Minamoto Yorimasa (源頼政), who shot a monstrous bird whose nightly call annoyed the emperor. As the Minister of Right was about to give Yorimasa an award for silencing the bird, he said:

Hototogisu na omo kuomi ni aguru kana
A cuckoo raising its head to the clouds in the heavens calls its name

To which, Yarimasa replied:

Yumihari-zuki no iru ni makasete
I only bent my bow and the arrow shot itself

(Source: Warrior Ghost Plays from Noh Theater, Chifumi Shimazaki. See also, One Hundred Aspects of the Moon: no. 58, Minamoto Yorimasa, by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi)

Suma (Suma, home of Genji, a beach near Kobe) no ama (sea, seaside) no / yasaki (an arrowhead) ni naku (cry) ka / hototogisu (kakkō, cuckoo bird)