It was 106 degrees in the shade yesterday in Kansas.
Hotter than Hades, is Kansas in August, Good grief, no relief?
Bashō no yōna
Summer, the rainy season. The Mogami River, swollen with rain. The end of July, Basho and Sora arrived in Sakata, on Japan’s western coast, after a thrilling ride down the river. Sora wrote, “It is very hot.” Matsuo Basho did not often complain about the heat. Heat was, I suppose, a fact of life. Deal with it.
The best thing to do on a hot day is to jump in the river or the sea, as the case may be.
The hot sun Splashes in the sea — Mogami River (The best thing to do!)
暑き日を 海に入れたり 最上川
Atsuki hi wo Umi ni iretari Mogamigawa
Matsuo Basho, Sakata, late summer, 1689
Atsuki (hot) hi (sun, day) wo (particle relating to cause, ‘hot was the day’) Umi (sea, ocean) ni (at, to, in) iretari (to put in) Mogamigawa (Mogami River). If we dissect ‘Mogamigawa‘ (最上川) to mean ‘best’ or ‘greatest’; (最) plus in (上); ending with gawa (川), we have ‘the best thing is to jump in the river’.
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)
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).]
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) dokino (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).
From theSaga 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)
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)
From Nozarashi Kikō, Summer of 1684, age 40, In the mountains of Yoshino, east of Osaka
The temple wife.No, her name is not Shirley.
Pounding cloth on the stone, monk, tell me surely, is this your temple wife?
砧 打ちて 我に聞かせよ 坊が妻 Kinuta uchite ware ni kikase yo bou ga tsuma
Matsuo Basho,
Notes on Translation. Kinuta (a stone on which to pound cloth) uchite (pounding) wareni (“ware” me plus “ni,” a particle for indirect object, “to me”) kikase (let me hear, tell me) yo (indicating emphasis or certainty) bou (monk) ga tsuma (wife)
Not PC
Not politically correct, but Basho’s attempt at humor. Like Henny Youngman’s “Take my wife, please.” I have added “surely” which is a homophone with Shirley, a girl’s name often used in American humor.
On the trail of Saiygo, the wandering 12th century Japanese monk. For a while, Saigyo lived as a hermit in the mountains of Yoshino, east of Osaka. Basho visitied Yoshino at least twice. First, during the summer of 1684 when he composed Nozarashi Kikō, and again after completing the ambitious Oku no Hosomichi in the autumn of 1689.
Beating the cloth to soften it, a Tao-like quote from Fujiwara no Masatsune’s 12th century poem in the Kokinshū (古今集, an anthology of early Japanese poetry of the waka style) that encompasses at least three senses, seeing, feeling, hearing:
“Looking at Yoshino, as the autumn wind is blowing and my hometown is getting colder, listening to the women beating on the clothes.”
Fujiwara no Masatsune, 12th century
Frank Watson has a translation of Fujiwara’s poem.
Early in his life, Matsuo Kinsaku (later becoming Basho) studied Chinese poetry and Taoism. Then, he studied Buddhism. Saiygo being his role model. Both ways, Taoism as well as Buddhism, for the Tao is not the only Way, enduring, it is ever changing and Buddhism, is about self-enlightenment. With both, brevity is the hallmark, which is why haiku is such a perfect Art form.
When words fail me … — Dao de Ching!
Bashō no yōna, Summer 2023
Words fail me, they fail all of us sometimes when trying to describe a moment or place. That is why we resort to similes and metaphors. Kind of like saying “a picture paints a thousand words.”
It was the mature* Matsuo Basho who said, “Don’t copy me, that is as dull as two halves of a melon.”
* ‘Ripe,’ one might say. Before becoming Basho, the poet’s pen name was Tosei, meaining ‘unripe peach’.
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.
Noteson 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
Nihonbashi, Edo, Japan 6th year of Enpō, 1680 Basho was 35 years old
Really and truly, a silver moon, Shining above this street, I’d give one thousand pieces of gold, to keep
実にや月 間口千金の 通り町 Geni ya tsuki maguchi senkin no tōrichō
Tosei (Matsuo Basho), 1680
[Note. torichio, 通り町 literally “Main Street” here it refers to the Nihonbashi District in Edo (Tokyo). This street would be like New York City’s Broadway, the Million Dollar Mile in Chicago, Paris, the Champs-Élysées, the Avenida 9 de Julio, in Buenos Aires, anywhere people mingle in the midst of fine theaters, shopping, and restaurants. “Main Street” is a peculiarly American idea, so I’ve kept it vague. One could insert Nihonbashi, but that refers to the area and not the main thoroughfare.]
The Poet as a Young Man
“I was born Matsuo Kinsaku. My father was samurai, but the wars are over. My brother has the farm. I traveled. Then took up poetry. My pen name is Tosei, meaning “unripe peach”. Leaving home in Ueno, going to Kyoto, now living in Edo, visiting Nihonbashi with its theater and cafes, I party, I study, I have a few students I teach — life is really, truly golden.”
One is not born an artist. One becomes one. And one is never quite the same. So, in the spring of 1672, our poet came to Edo, to learn, to read, to write, to teach, to become a poet, and find himself.
“A spring night is worth a thousand pieces of gold, flowers are fragrant and the moon waxes and wanes.”
Su Shi, 蘇軾 Chinese poet, 11th c.
Looking back years later, Matsuo Basho was able to say this:
“My body is worn out in never-ending journeys as aimless as the wind and clouds, where I expressed my feelings through flowers and birds. Somehow I’ve made a living at this. So, in the end, unskilled and untalented as I am, I give myself wholly to this one pursuit — poetry.”
Matsuo Basho, 1690
The excellent website, Teresbess identifies this quote as coming from Genjuan no ki (The Hut of the Phantom Dwelling, 1690). Basho, then approaching 50, took a sojourn to Lake Biwa near Kyoto. Basho’s description of the spot again imitates Su Shi:
From lofty peaks there descends a fragrant southern wind, and the cool northern wind is from the distant sea. In beginning of the fourth moon (April-May) when I arrived, the azaleas were in bloom. And on the mountain pine, hung wisteria. Cuckoos flew past and swallows came to feed.
Matsuo Basho, Genjuan no ki (The Hut of the Phantom Dwelling), 1690
Notes on Translation
Geni (really and truly, indeed) ya (expresses exclamation, admiration) tsuki (moon) maguchi (referring to land, frontage) senkin (a thousand pieces of gold) no (indicating identity or possession) Tōrichō (refers to the main street of Nihonbashi in Edo, 通り町 ‘Tōrichō‘ is equivalent to Main Street).
There are multiple translations of Basho’s Phantom Hut available online. In becoming a recluse, Basho was imitating several Chinese poets including Du Fu and Bai Juyi, as well as the Japanese monk Saigyo.
matsuo-basho-haiku 