Between Fall and Winter On a blustery day, I went for a jog In Pooh Park
Bashō no yōna, between fall and winter, 2023
‘Pooh Park’ better known as Chisholm Creek Park, home to the Great Plains Nature Center in Sedgwick County, Kansas. The volunteer at the Center explaining that the park has about one hundred acres of woods and fields, and all sorts of critters, but no bears, making it not quite ‘Pooh Perfect.’
Pooh, full name, Winnie the Pooh, is the creation of English author A. A. Milne and English illustrator E. H. Shepard. Pooh is a Matsuo Basho like bear who speaks in rhymes, while curiously seeking adventure.
At a party inIga, 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
There have been three successful French Revolutions (1789, 1830, and 1848) and quite a few unsuccessful ones.
A Fiasco! from the get go to the end — French Revolution
Bashō no yōna, November 2023
While taking a class on Modern French History at his local university, Basho no yona, the author of this blog about Matsuo Basho, and everything Basho, and some things added, got to thinking about making haiku.
Haiku-ing, a verb, turning a tiny moment in time from a prose statement into three lines of verse, creating a haiku.
Try it, making two things something quite new, haikui-ing for fun
FromNozarashi kikô Jokyo, year 1, Autumn, 1684, Matsuo Basho,age 41
Beating a cotton bow comforting like a lute, deep in the bamboo.
綿弓や琵琶になぐさむ竹の奥 watayumi ya biwa ni nagusamu take no oku
Matsuo Basho, Nozarashi kikô, Autumn 1684
Deep in a Bamboo Grove
By the late fall of 1684, Tokugawa Yoshimune (徳川 吉宗), the great grandson of Tokugawa Ieyasu (徳川家康), the founder of the Tokugawa shogunate , would become the eighth shōgun. Matsuo Basho lived in Edo, the capital of the shogunate, but by now he had removed himself from the city, across the river, to a little cottage in the quiet Fukagawa District.
Basho has finally taken on the nom de plume, Basho, (formerly Tosei, the unripe peach); he is a little gray around the temples, in the prime of his life, at the top of his career, embarking on the first of his travels — Nozarashi kikô, 野ざらし紀行 (Travelogue of Weather-Beaten Bones).
Basho writes:
“Entering Yamato province, at a place called ‘Amid the Bamboo Groves’ (Take no uchi) at a city called Katsuragi … Because this was my companion Chiri’s birthplace, we rested several days in a house deep within a bamboo grove.”
The 12th century poet/monk Saigyo spent three years in Yamato province. Basho visited his memorial on this trip. Basho made this trip the year after his mother’s death, and a stop included his hometown.
[The above English translation quote comes from the website of Dr. Gabi Greve, Daruma Museum, Japan. Another site in Japanese, Yamanashi, contains a discussion of the travelogue, but does not mention Chiri. In the prior entry, Basho writes of returning to Iga Ueno (his hometown) for the first time in nine years. For the peaceful bamboo grove, Basho likely had in mind the poem of the Tang dynasty poet Wang Wei.]
Basho, a Recluse
The life of a recluse often played on the mind of Matsuo Basho. The 12th century monk/poet Saigyo likely inspired Basho to leave Edo with its flashy art district, Nihonbashi, and move south, across the Sumida River, to the distant and remote Fukagawa District. There he lived alone, or sometimes taking in guests, composing, becoming Matsuo Basho. Basho because of the banana tree growing beside his cottage, weathering the storm, good for nothing but providing shade from the sun.
The symbol of bamboo is a pervasive one in Japanese, as well as Chinese, literature. Common and ordinary, bamboo could represent the people bowing to the will of the emperor. More often, bamboo represented the anonymity of being lost in a crowd. Thus, we have the story of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove. Chinese scholars, poets, and musicians of the Three Kingdom Period who retreated to a bamboo grove to be far from the watchful eye of the imperial court.
Poets of the Tang dynasty, like Wang Wei, would play upon this theme of retreat, of solace, of peace. Basho would often tell his disciples, “Learn about pines from the pine, and about bamboo from the bamboo.” This means the poet must immerse himself, of herself, in Nature to understand its mysteries, its beauty.
Notes on Translation
The retreat belonged to Kiemon Aburaya, a village headman in Katsuragi (Nara prefecture), near Mt. Yamato. The poet Saigyo is associated with this area. The haiku is likely a poem of greeting to Keimon, Basho’s host.
watayumi (the process of beating raw cotton into cotton using a bow made of bamboo) ya (exclamation) biwa (biwa, the Chinese lute) ni (in) nagusamu (comforting one’s worries) take (bamboo) no oku (deep within, the original meaning of this character 奥 referred to somewhere far removed and out of sight.)
It is late November and the Maple leaves have turned red and gold, while the Chestnut leaves, once mostly green, begin to turn yellow and brown. The cold wind knocks the leaves and chestnuts to the ground.
This haiku has little meaning unless you imagine fuke as a nod to a fortuitous event, the wind; and domo, a shorter way of saying ‘arigato,’ a polite way of saying, ‘thank you’ to the wind for the chestnuts blown down from the tree.
The autumn wind shakes down bright green chestnuts
秋風の吹けども青し栗の毬 aki kaze no fuke domo aoshi kuri no iga
Matsuo Basho, Autumn 1691
aki kaze (autumn wind, breeze) no (particle showing connection) fuke domo (blowing, falling down) aoshi (deep green color) kuri no iga (Chestnuts)
Like in England, in Japan, chestnuts are a favored fall food. Strangely, here in the US, not so much, despite that great song by Mel Torme, The Christmas Song, about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. While in Europe and Japan, the winter season finds street vendors roasting chestnuts in hand-cranked drums, then shoveling them into paper holders for kids from one to ninety-two.
Staying Grounded
It feels good to walk in your backyard in one’s bare feet. It is one way of staying grounded. I have a Chestnut tree in my backyard and the sharp spiny chestnuts remind me this life, this day, this moment, I am not dreaming.
aki kaze no fuke domo aoshi kuri no iga, 秋風の吹けども青し栗の毬
Reflecting, Being and becoming Matsuo Basho, Haiku
Bashō no yōna, November, 2023
Reflections on Matsuo Basho
Bashō no yōna, the author of this blog on the life and haiku of Matsuo Basho, finds himself reflecting. Reflecting on how a young Japanese boy, the son of a samurai, turned farmer, then became servant to his samurai lord, then student of poetry, disciple, then teacher, and finally master. It is, indeed, a process, becoming Matsuo Basho.
Haiku is a peculiarly Japanese art form that consists of three lines, with five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and five in the third. Seventeen syllables in all, usually containing a seasonal word (kigo) that serve as a memory allusion. Similar and different from Proust’s Madeline and tea. The seasonal idea is both physical and temporal. We are in the spring, summer, fall or winter of our lives. We are also cold or warm. It may be a bright summer day, or a cold windy day in November, like it is here.
Most importantly, in a well formed haiku, one finds a cutting word, kiru, the juxtaposition of two ideas, that when combined, create a unique sensory experience.
This is demonstrated in Basho’s best known haiku, which combines a leaping frog and and old pond, creating the sound of water.
古池や 蛙飛び込む 水の音
Furu ike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto
A leaping frog, In an old pond, Says, Kerplunk!
Bashō no yōna
[Note. Here, Basho follows the rules of haiku with the five, seven, five pattern. The seasonal word is the summer frog, and the cutting word ‘ya’ gives us an exclamation which I, in my translation, moved to the end. There is also an anthropomorphic process at work, an act of creation, in that Basho makes the water speak, mizu no oto, the sound of water.]
Why Haiku?
Mostly because it is fun. A child can enjoy it, and an adult can once again become a child.
The fun in reading Basho’s haiku is that it causes us to look at our surroundings in a different way. The fun in translating his haiku is that one observes that no two translators look at Basho’s creations in the same exact manner. This shouldn’t surprise us. Basho’s haiku is undoubtedly his work, but it is our unique experience.
Reading and writing, Transforming, creating, ah! — the fun of haiku
Bashō no yōna, on the Great Plains of America, Fall, 2023
Four inches of rain fell yesterday, Now it is cloudy and cold here in the Arkansas Valley in the Great Plains of America, a hard freeze is expected tonight. The lettuce will wilt, but how about the spinach and radish?
It’s cold and cloudy, with nothing to do, — haiku
Bashō no yōna, Arkansas Valley, October
Haiku
OK, this is not traditional haiku in the sense that it’s not three lines of 5 syllables, 7, and 5, nor is this any combination thereof. It does, however, follow Matsuo Basho‘s formula of combining two ideas to create something different.
Arthur Koestler wrote The Act of Creation, a 1964 book that tackles ‘bisociative’ thinking and man’s constant battle between habit and originality. His idea that one plus one can make something unique is like Basho’s haiku. It’s the same concept behind every joke.
What about compound words? A fire house is not a house on fire, it’s a place where fire engines leave to take care of fires.
Germans love compound words. Take, for example, ‘Zeitgeist.‘ (German grammar capitalizes a noun, is it necessary?) that mean spirit (geist) of the times (zeit). In 17th century Japan, war was over, times to have a little fun parsing words, scrambling phrases, composing thoughts.
Taking the Dogs on a Walk
Oh, here comes the sun, Little darling, It’s all right!
A riff on the Beatles song Two of Us, 1969
Time to take the dogs on a walk at the park, the park being Pawnee Prairie Park. Here there are open fields and dark woods through which flows a creek. The creek being Chisholm Creek. Cattle heading up the Chisholm Trail once watered here. Today, horses and riders take advantage of the trails. There is a sidewalk for city-folk, but I prefer the woods and fields, where the deer run. The dogs agree.
The sun is setting, it is getting dark, the walk is almost over. The dogs are off the leash and panting. Did not Basho teach us to break rules, make fun. Don’t be a melon split in two.
Rules Are made and broken, Making new rules to break.
Rainy Days in Sakai-cho, October, 1678 Enpo, 6th year, Basho is 35
Unfamiliar faces, the falling rain, autumn’s falling leaves, it’s a gray day in Sakai-cho, Edo’s theater district. Six autumns have come and gone since our poet first arrived in Edo. Uncertain about his future, even his name, for he was still called Tosei, the unripe peach.
Walking among the ghostly figures in the cold, cold Autumn rain, facing an uncertain future, what could Tosei be wondering?
Rainy days this Autumn World — in Sakai-cho 雨の日や世間の秋を境町 ame no hi ya seken no aki o sakai-chō
Matsuo Basho, Edo, Sakai-cho, Autumn 1678
Sakai-chô — Edo’s Kabuki Theater District (Nihonbashi) where dream-like Noh plays were the norm.
The Mortal World
Seken (世間) — this mortal world, ever becoming, ever fleeting, ghostly in its being on rainy days.
Bashō no yōna, the author of this blog, looks out his window at the falling rain, the leaves now scattered on the ground, dreaming, wondering.
Imagine. Like John Lennon said, “nothing to kill or die for, … imagine living in peace.” Sad to say, the world is at war.
It’s late October in middle America. Unlike the Carpenters’ Rainy Days and Mondays, it doesn’t have to be Monday for rainy days to always get me down. Not a light drizzle, but a steady drum-beating downpour, the kind that has the dog hiding under the bed covers.
The poet thinks of becoming and being. Being being made up of things which never change in any way, while becoming consisting of things which constantly change and existing in many ways. Being and becoming is a better way to say it.
Luck, combining opportunity with preparation, — good fortune
The year of 1666 was a turning point in the life of Matsuo Minefusa (as Basho was then known).
In April, Todo Yoshitada (藤堂 良忠) died. Two or three years Matsuo’s senior, he was the third son of a samurai general, lord of the castle in Ueno, Iga Province, near where Basho was born. Matsuo was his servant or vassal. And it was Yoshitada, who adopted the pen name of Sengin (蝉吟, literally ‘chanting cicada’), who introduced Basho to poetry and haiku.
In the sharp sound of the autumn wind coming through an open door, I suspect young Matsuo heard the voice of his master and mentor.
The autumn wind, coming through the sliding door, a sharp voice.
秋風の鑓戸の口やとがり声 aki kaze no yarido no kuchi ya togari-goe
Matsuo Basho, Autumn 1666
Notes on Translation
What Basho meant by togari-goe is unclear. Was it the sharp voice of his master, summoning him? Was it the piercing cry of one who died too soon. Is it Basho himself mourning the loss of his mentor?
aki kaze (秋風) — autumn wind. Basho would begin at least four haiku with aki kaze, one with aki no kaze. Aki, autumn was a seasonal word signifying change and the nearness of winter, or death.
yarido (鑓戸) — A door made of latticed wood. Others, including Frank Watson, suggest that there is a play on words involved here – yari (鑓) also meaning spear. To me, this is suggestive of the wooden strips on the door looking like spears, or the sound of the wind being similar to the sound made by throwing a spear. Assuming, as I do, that his haiku was written after Yoshitada’s death, I think Basho intended to write it as a salute to Yoshitada on the occasion of his death.
kuchi (口), opening, meaning either an open door, or simply that the wind is blowing through the slats.
togari-goe — a screaming voice, togari (とがり) sharpness, piercing; goe (声). Compare Basho’s well known haiku about a frog, an old pond, and the sound of water. Basho uses mizu no oto (水の音), the sound of water.
Note. when koe becomes goe. An example of rendaku (連濁) – repeating a consonant in compound word, gari-goe. Compare the ‘voice of a cicada’, semi no koe.
1689
Mt. Yamadera A Journey into the Northern Interior
Twenty-three years later, Basho has achieved fame. Along the way, he has taken his own pen name, Matsuo Basho, Basho, meaning ‘banana’ for the banana tree that grew outside his cottage in Edo. Yet, he still hears the distant voice of Sengin (Todo Yoshitada) as he climbs the stone steps on Mt. Yamadera on his way to the Temple of Risshakuji.
A 1,000-step climb on stone steps brings one to the top of Mt. Yamadera and the Zen Buddhist temple of Risshakuji. Along the way, Basho hears a cicada’s voice deep within the stones. Perhaps, it is Sengin, still chanting after all these years. One supposes that Basho had a Noh play on his mind in which a spirit comes back to bring a message.
Ah, in stillness, deep within the stones — the cicada’s voice
閑けさや 岩にしみいる 蝉の声 Shizukesa ya iwa ni shimiiru semi no koe
Matsuo Basho, Oku no Hosomichi, Summer 1689
Notes on Translation
shizukesa, quietness, stillness, serenity, tranquility; ya, emphasis
iwa, rock, stone; ni, indicating within; shimiiru, soaking in, seeping
semi no koe, cicada’s voice
The sutra repository of Risshakuji Temple on Mt. Yamadera (original image from Wikipedia)
Ogaki, Japan Mid-October, 1689 Parting from friends
One always has to fill in the details.
At Ogaki, there is a 16th century castle. The area surrounding the castle played a pivotal role in Battle of Sekigahara that brought the Tokugawa clan to power. Basho does not mention the castle or the battle. One imagines that he is still recovering from his Journey to the Northern Interior (Oku no Hosomichi), meeting old acquaintances in Osaka, Kyoto, and Nagoya.
By October, he is ready to leave again. This time to the Grand Shrine at Ise. So, I imagine that he is at a lovely restaurant on the Makida River, joined by some friends for one final farewell, sharing sake, some clams, no doubt taken from Futami, a coastal village on the way.
As Autumn ends We are parting Like clam shells (of Futami)
蛤のふたみにわかれ行秋ぞ
Matsuo Basho, Autumn 1689
Notes on Translation
Futami, means ‘parting.’ It is also the beach where the Isuzu River enters the Ise Bay. Nearby, are the Wedded Rocks (Meoto Iwa, 夫婦岩), two sacred rocks in the ocean. The artist Utagawa Toyokuni I recreated a scene of Along the Seashore at Futami. In the background, men can be seen gathering clams.
Hamaguri clams are considered a symbol of friendship and harmony because the shells symbolize a joined pair. Perhaps, the unexpressed thought is the difficulty of separating the shells, and the pain in parting.
hamaguri (clams) no (of) futami (breaking up, forked place in a river, also a place name — Futami, Mie Prefecture, a town Basho would travel to on his way to the Grand Shrine of Mie) ni wakare (farewell) yuku (leave, go, but don’t come back) aki zo (wow, it’s autumn, or autumn’s over)
Autumn Ends
October is a good time to revisit Basho’s haiku on Autumn ending. The leaves are falling. The heat has finally broken. A cold wind is blowing.