What!

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)

Fa-La-La-La-La

Costco,
Saturday, December 9, 2023

“Saturday, you must be crazy to shop at Costco.” The text message reads. The store is packed, the lines are long, not everyone, but someone becomes impatient.

Two weeks before Christmas, Bashō no yōna is shopping at the local Costco. Standing patiently in line waiting for a piece of Cheddar cheese, he hears a father and mother with four young children in tow berating the bespectacled septuagenarian who is sweetly smiling but having a hard time cutting the cheese.

Needless to say, Bashō no yōna says,

‘Tis the season
For short tempers,
Falalalala, lalalala!”

Bashō no yōna, Holiday Season, 2023
Costco Hotdogs, fa-la-la-la-la

Did Bashō no yōna get his hot dog and drink for $1.50?

You bet ya, loaded with relish and mustard, but no onions. Is it cost cutting at Costco?

A hot dog with relish and mustard,
What, no onions!
— Cost cutting at Costco

Bashō no yōna, anytime of the year

Pooh Park

Aka Chisholm Park

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.

How do you get to Pooh Park?

Cross the bridge
if you dare,
to enter Pooh Park

Bashō no yōna, between fall and winter, 2023

Beware, you’ll have fun.

cross the bridge if you dare to enter Pooh Park

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

A Fiasco

French Revolution

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

Bashō no yōna, November 2023

Deep in Bamboo

From Nozarashi 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.)

The Chestnut

Autumn 1691, 4th year of Genroku
Basho, age 47

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

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

Enjoy!

Pawnee Prairie Park in Kansas

October

October 2023, Year 5 Reiwa

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.

Pawnee Prairie Park

Rainy Days

雨の日や

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

Bashō no yōna, on a theme of Seneca, October 2023
ame no hi ya seken no aki o sakai-chō