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

Shut up!

氷苦く偃鼠が咽をうるほせり
kōri nigaku . enso ga nodo o . uruoseri
Ice is bitter, in a rat’s mouth, but it quenches his thirst.
Ice that’s bitter, in a rat’s mouth, just enough to shut him up
Matsuo Basho, Winter 1683

Shut up, uru sei

Most translators are happy to let the rat quench his throat with the bitter taste of ice. A second interpretation is that it makes him ‘shut up’. Uru sei (うるせい) and Uru oseri (うるほせり) being the slight distinction. Of course, For Basho, it is winter, bitterly cold and he is trying to get some sleep. A noisy rat needs to shut up.

Winter of 1683

The year 1683 was bitter for Matsuo Basho, whose mother died earlier that year. His beloved Basho-an, his hut in Fukagawa, had burned down the previous winter, but friends had found him a new one. One no doubt he was getting used to, accompanied by the river rats. (Basho lived near the Sumida River.)

No doubt, also on his mind was that, in the Japanese zodiac, the year to come, February 15, 1684, to be exact was the year of the Rat.

2024

The year 2024 is the year of the Dragon, almost half way in to 12 year cycle that makes up the Chinese and Japanese zodiac. The Rat begins again the cycle.

Gentle Reader, in case you are curious, today, for those born under the Rat sign things look fabulous — despite the bitterly cold weather sweeping the land.

Please, will someone let the weatherman know.

Notes on Translation

kōri (water) nigaku (bitter) enso (rat, mouse) ga nodo (rat’s mouth) o uruoseri (quench, satisfy). Uru sai literally means noisy or annoying, but is often used to get someone to shut up. Being a non-native student of Japanese, I come up with ‘get satisfied’ for uro oseri うるほせり.

**kōri nigaku . enso ga nodo o . uruoseri**

Don’t Drink and Ride

Random thoughts on snow and love, on drinking and driving, on crazy verse.

It’s Snowing!
Falling off a buckskin horse
(Please, don’t) drink and ride

雪や砂馬より落ちよ酒の酔
yuki ya suna uma yori ochiyo sake no yoi
Matsuo Basho, Oi no Kobumi, Winter 1687-8

yuki (snow) ya (exclamation, emphasis) suna (sand colored, chestnut) uma (horse) yori (than) ochiyo (falling down) sake no yoi (drunk on sake). Suna is sand colored, buckskin is a tan colored horse with a dark mane. One wonders, does it matter?

One wonders if thoughts are truly random. Even snowflakes falling take on a pattern. And thoughts of this and that lead on to other thoughts. Bashō no yōna was thinking of love, of snow, of snow falling down, and how he liked the twinkling Christmas lights all covered in white.

Matsuo Basho wrote about snow. He did not write about love. Why not, does it matter?

Matsuo Basho had many disciples, many friends. Ochi Etsujin 越智越人 was one. Etsujin lived in Nagoya, which was on the way to Ueno in Mie province, Basho’s birthplace. It is said, Etsujin was a handsome lad, and not much else. Perhaps he lived from 1655-1739, but no one knows for certain.

But does it matter?

In the winter of 1687-8, Matsuo journeyed from Edo to Nagoya, to Ueno, to Iga and the Grand Ise shrine, to Nara to Otsu. His friend Etsujin went with him. Basho had Kyoku on his mind and Saiygo. Kyoku (crazy verse) being a kind of humorous or ironic haiku without its strict conventions. Saiygo being a serious minded monk who often traveled and lived alone.

Picture this. It is early morning. The snow is gently falling. Each is riding a horse. Etsujin is on a Chestnut, a horse of sandy color. Etsujin is drunk on the sake they drank the night before and the lack of sleep, falling down.

It’s snowing,
Etsujin, better to just ride the horse,
Than fall down drunk

雪や . 砂 . 馬より落ちよ酒の酔

Etsujin wrote a haiku about cats in love or is it cats in heat, which has nothing to do with snow.

うらやまし . 思ひ切る時 . 猫の恋
Urayamashi (I am jealous of you) omoi-kiru (making up my mind) toki (time) neko no koi (the cat’s in heat)
I am so jealous of you, I’ve made up my mind, it must be time, the cat’s in heat.

Urayamashi could also mean “I wish I were like you.”

I wish I were like you,
But then there wouldn’t be two of us,
Just one

Now that’s kyoku-crazy.

If there is a lesson in all this, it is this: Be curious and try to laugh.

P.S. This post was written several days ago, but does it matter?

By Myself

Fukagawa, Basho-an, his cottage,
Year 8 of the Enpo era, 1680
Basho 37 years old

If the rich eat fine cuts of meat and the poor, radishes, then Basho has a treat this week, dried salmon.

雪の朝独リ干鮭を噛み得タリ
yuki no ashita / hitori karazake o / kami e tari

A snowy morning
here by myself
chewing dried salmon.
Matsuo Basho, near Christmas, 1680

yuki (snow) no (particle with many uses) ashita (morning) / hitori (alone) karazake (dried salmon) o (particle, on) / kami e tari (able to bite, chewing)

My powers of translation are extremely limited. I wonder if there is not something more at play here. 噛み kami is chew. It is a homophone with 神, meaning a deity or God. 得 which forms part of e tari hints at obtaining something of benefit. If Basho is referring to fresh salmon, smoked and dried, he is talking about Sockeye salmon that runs from November to December.

The dried salmon, no matter how dry, is a treat.

Today, salmon are released into the Sumida River that borders Fukagawa where Basho had his cottage.

Merry Christmas

If there is a Christmas haiku for Matsuo Basho, this one comes close.

I do not always refer to the Era names in identifying the date of the haiku. Era names are created based on a significant event. This one was great fire in Kyoto. And the era name, Enpo, meant ‘prolonged wealth,’ the hope that after the fire prosperity would come. The era lasted 8 years. Then the shogun died and a new one was chosen. And Matsuo Basho moved from Edo, the capital, to Tokugawa, to be alone.

Salmon, grilled with rosemary and marjoram, image by robsonmelo

To Go or Not to Go

December 15, 2023
Middle America

Ten days before Christmas, the shopping is done, the house is festive, thanks to the wife. Bashō no yōna, the 21st century disciple of Matsuo Basho (aren’t we all?), has one job. Let the dog out in the morning. So, he gets up, makes the coffee, and finds the dog at the back door, looking puzzled.

It is raining outside.

It’s raining outside,
The dog’s at the door, she pauses,
To go or stay, we wonder!
Bashō no yōna, December 2023

No one likes the rain in December.

初しぐれ猿も小蓑をほしげ也
hatsu shigure saru mo komino o hoshige nari

first winter shower
(first freezing drizzle)
a monkey, it seems,
wants something to wear, like us.
Matsuo Basho, Monkey’s Raincoat, Winter 1689

hatsu (first) shigure (cold autumn/winter rain) saru (monkey) mo (too, also) komino (something to wear) o hoshige (wanting something, i.e. to wear, a raincoat) nari (also)

Monkey’s Raincoat

Baby it is cold out there.

When Basho and his friends showed up for a renga party, sometime towards the end of the year, they did so in the freezing rain wearing overcoats to protect the from the steady drizzle, (shigure).

Shigure, is that steady downfall that comes in late fall and early winter, the kind that soaks one to the bone.

Sarumino, or the Monkey’s Raincoat, is the fifth of the seven poetry anthologies compiled by Basho and his disciples. It was written in Ueno (his hometown), Kyoto and Omi, along Lake Biwa. Composed as a form of renga by Basho and his disciples and was published in 1691, three years before Basho’s death. Edited by Kyorai and Boncho.

初しぐれ猿も小蓑をほしげ也
hatsu shigure saru mo komino o hoshige nari

Source Notes.

Gabi Greve’s excellent website on all things Basho has multiple translations of the Japanese text.

The Monkey’s Raincoat online in book form by the Haiku Foundation.

Wintry Wind

Go, says Laozi

Laozi, the kindly Old Master, said “Go!”

So I went for a walk in the woods in December. And what did I get, for following such advice? No, not some peace of mind? But a cheek swelling ache on my frozen face from the wind that blows in December.

A Withering Wind,
A Cheek swelling Ache,
On a Strange man’s Face
Matsuo Basho, Autumn, 1690

I confess I have been outdone. A better translation can be found. From a collection of Winter haikus by Basho, Buson, and Issa, gathered up in a nice little package like a Christmas gift from Chris Kincaid. ‘Wintry Wind’ was his title. ‘Withering Wind’ is more along the lines of what Basho was thinking, but a month can make a difference. Check it out.

Yes, you noticed. This is an autumn haiku. Yes, the cold wind blows in Autumn, the withering kind that causes the leaves to fall. But you see, it is now December, and its worse, for the trees are bare, and it’s my face, and not that of the stranger I see, that is frozen.

Original Japanese

こがらしや　頬腫痛む　人の顔
kogarashi ya hoobare itamu hito no kao
Matsuo Basho, Autumn, Winter 1690

kogarashi (a leaf withering wind) ya (exclamation) hoobare (swollen cheeks) itamu (it hurts) hito no kao (a person’s face)

Bob Van Huss

In memory of my father-in-law, Robert (Bob) Van Huss, who liked to say, “It gets darn cold when the North Wind blows.” That wind is not a gentle kiss. With all its might, it socks you in the nose.

What!

A Year End Surprise.

In May of 1689, Matsuo Basho made his well known five month long journey into Japan’s northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi). Before leaving he had expressed misgivings about such an adventure and even had forebodings of death. (“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”) But the trip came off without any major mishaps and Basho arrived near Kyoto, then. at year’s end, went to rest at Zeze 膳所, Ōtsu, on Lake Biwa, north of Kyoto.

Surprise, here was the crow, the symbol of death.

何にこの師走の市にゆく烏　
nani ni kono shiwasu no ichi ni yuku karasu

what is this?
December in the city market
— a crow

Matsuo Basho, age 46, at Zeze 膳所, Ōtsu, on Lake Biwa, north of Kyoto, Winter, 1689 元禄2年

A similar theme is found in ancient Babylonian texts. See W. Somerset Maugham’s retelling in The Appointment in Samarra. Crows made their appearance in Noh plays Basho attended.

The crow can be ubiquitous in major cities if garbage is left out. But Japan’s Edo period had no such problem. There was pretty much no garbage because anything that could be got recycled. Old paper, food, even human excrement was picked up by collectors and sold or reused.

Notes on Translation

Nani ni kono, what is this, what!

Shiwasu, the name for the lunar month of December.

Yuku, going, coming to

Karasu, a crow. Crows abound in ukiyo-e, Japanese woodblock art and Basho utilized the crow in several haiku. The crow can be a mark of rebirth, as it has historically cleaned up after battles consuming dead flesh. For the same reason, it can symbolize death. As anyone who has been in Bruges, Belgium knows, it can be a noisy messy bird in the mornings and evenings.

Be careful where you step and take your shoes off when you go home.

**nani ni kono shiwasu no ichi ni yuku karasu**

Image from the Edo Period collection of the Metropolitan Art, (public domain). Inrō with Crows on Tree in Moonlight (月下鴉蒔絵印籠)

People, Pay attention

At a party in Iga, Ueno
Genroku 2, 1689
Basho, age 45

It is difficult to get everyone’s attention at a party, especially if its cold. A group of Basho’s friends and disciples have joined him in Iga, Ueno province (where Basho was born) at the local inn. Everybody, pay attention, I know its cold, but let’s get this renga party going before we’ve drunk too much.

人々をしぐれよ宿は寒くとも
hitobito o shigureyo yado wa samuku tomo

Friends and disciples,
It’s sleeting and freezing,
Though the inn is cold, pay attention!

Good friends, everyone,
Listen up, it is sleeting!
Though the inn is cold.
(5-7-5 pattern)
Matsuo Basho, December 1689

[hitobito (people, everybody) o (particle expressing emphasis, ‘pay attention’) shigureyo (late autumn, early winter shower, December shower) yado wa (the inn is) samuku (cold, freezing) tomo (friends)]

Matsuo Basho, 1689

The year 1689 was one with a major accomplishment — Basho and Sora’s five month journey into Japan’s northern interior that would become Oku no Hosomichi, published after Basho’s death. The journey ended in Ōgaki, Gifu Prefecture, near Nagoya. Basho rested in the area for a while, then he traveled south to Iga, in Mie province perhaps to visit with family one more time.

There, friends and disciples gathered at an inn to catch up on old times, to recite haiku, and drink.

人々をしぐれよ宿は寒くとも
hitobito o shigureyo yado wa samuku tomo
Pay attention, listen up, outside it is freezing, let’s party

Traveler

A traveler with no home

John Steinbeck famously said, “People don’t take trips, trips take people.” More often, it is said, “It is not the destination, but the journey.” Basho himself, said as much, “Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.” (Introduction to Oku no Hosomichi, a journey into Japan’s northern interior). We attempt to set down roots, but in the end, we recognize we are all just traveling on. And the unknown final destination just a compass point

a traveler with no home
has the heart of
a kotatsu

住みつかぬ旅の心や置火燵
sumitsu kanu tabi no kokoro ya okigotatsu
Matsuo Basho, Kyoto, 1690

Kyoto, 1690

Son, servant, student, disciple, teacher, wanderer — the evolution of Matsuo Basho. Following in the footsteps of Saiygo (西行, 1118-1190), making his own path.

In one sense, Kyoto, 1690 was the end of a circle. It was where young Matsuo began his life as student. It was where he ended the epic journey we know of as Oku no Hosomichi. It was the point from which Matsuo, the traveler, would continue on for four more years, until wanting to complete his journey returned to his final destination, nearby Osaka, on November 28, 1694.

sumitsu (home) kanu (can’t, unable to) tabi (traveler, stranger) no (possessive particle) kokoro (heart, spirit) ya (emphasis) okigotatsu (kotasu, a table built over a portable warmer)

The Season is Winter

Toki Wa Fuyu

” 時は冬.” Toki wa fuyu, the season is winter. How cold is it? On cold winter days, it is not just me, even my shadow is frozen.

冬の日や馬上に氷る影法師

fuyu no hi ya bajō ni kōru kagebōshi

these cold winter days
on horseback
— my shadow is frozen
Matsuo Basho, Oi no kobumi, Winter 1687

On the Tokaido

From Oi no kobumi, on the Tokaido, en route to Cape Irago, riding on a particularly long stretch between snow covered fields and the bitterly cold sea. Things on Basho’s mind include things from the past — Saigyo’s waka, Sogi’s renga, Sesshu’s landscape painting, and Rikyu’s Way of the Tea; those and the bitter cold.

One of the reasons for reading Basho’s haiku is that they give us “an alternative possibility of being.” (Jane Hirshfield, Seeing Through Words: Matsuo Bashō, interpreting Oi no kobumi)

Notes on Translation

Tokaido – the eastern coastal sea route from Edo to Kyoto. The 19th century artist Utagawa Hiroshige painted the 53 stations of the Tokaido.

Fuyu no hi – winter day, on cold winter days, fuyu no hi ya, where ya is added for emphasis.

Koru – frozen; Kageboshi – shadow