Uri Nasubi

Uri Nasubi — Squash (melons) and eggplant.

September, Autumn is here now, the weather is cool. In my garden the squash is done and the eggplant is late. Fortunately, the grocery stores are stocked with both. In Fall, I like goulash and ratatouille. The Japanese prepare similar dishes.

During the trip known as Oku no Hosomichi, in the first week of September, at Kanazawa, Basho got the bad news that one of his pupils had died. Sora was unwell. This haiku, Basho notes, was written on a visit to a grass hut.

In the coolness of Autumn
let each of us peel these
— melons and eggplant

秋涼し手毎にむけや瓜茄子
aki suzushi te goto ni muke ya uri nasubi

Matsuo Basho, Autumn, 1689

aki (autumn) suzushi (cool, refreshing) te (hand, by hand) goto (each, each one; either each one of us, or each piece of fruit) ni muke (for the purpose of, goal) ya (emphasis) uri (melon, squash) nasubi (eggplant). One can find several recipes online for a Japanese meal consisting of squash and eggplant.

P.S. A Japanese proverb reads: “Don’t let your daughter-in-law eat your eggplants in Autumn,” meaning don’t let yourself get taken advantage of.

A literal translation suggests that one shouldn’t let one’s wife eat eggplant in autumn. The confusion arises because yome (嫁) can mean both ‘wife’ (bride) and ‘daughter in law.’ Either way there is some health concerns since eating eggplant may cause an acidic reaction in the stomach.

In Autumn, don’t feed your wife eggplants.
秋茄子は嫁に食わすな
akinasu wa yome ni kuwasuna

Basho did not intend his haiku as such. Rather, as part of the grieving process, let those present share in the grief by preparing a meal.

eggplant, aubergines, nasubi

Moon Viewing

It is September. Children all over the world are amazed at the big orange harvest moon that rises over the horizon.

Megitsu and Shangye

Before Netflix and HBO, there was Moon Viewing. Shangyue in Chinese and Meigitsu in Japanese. Moon Viewing typically took place once a month when the moon was full. In China, a full moon took place on the first day of the month. In Japan full moons occurred on the 13th of the lunar month, until, in 1684, this was changed to the 15th. This is perhaps what made the Ides of March so ominous for Julius Caesar.

A Harvest Moon in Japan took place during the eighth lunar month, the ninth month, or September, by modern reckoning. Spectacular, since the harvest was in, or coming in, and people flocked to the fields to enjoy their favorite beverage while watching the greatest show in heaven. The Milky Way taking a back seat at this time.

Matsuo Basho began at least ten haiku with Meigitsu, often adding a ni, no, wa, or ya for emphasis. To me, a full moon is indescribable. It is a moment, a feeling. And you have got to be there to be in the moment.

Maybe that is the point of the following haiku:

Harvest Moon
All through the night
Round and round the pond.

名月や池をめぐりて夜もすがら
meigetsu ya ike o megurite yomosugara

Matsuo Basho, Autumn 1686

[meigetsu (full moon, harvest moon) ya (expressing awe) ike (pond) o (particle that may indicate down by, or around) megurite (around) yomosugara (all night long, all through the night)]

In 1685, Basho began his wandering years, but he was back in Edo, in Fukagawa, in his cottage, near a pond, for the fall of 1686. That fall Basho wrote the above haiku, as well as his famous frog-pond-splash haiku.

Maybe, just maybe, a frog was croaking and keeping Basho awake all night long.

You don’t say!

The Man on the Moon

What happens to the Man on the Moon (Katsura-otoko) when it rains? And where does he go?

The man on the moon
No longer lives
On the moon when it rains

The man under the Katsura tree
No longer lives on the moon
When it rains

桂男すまずなりけり雨の月
Katsura-otoko sumazu nari keri ame no tsuki

Matsuo Basho, Iga, Mie province, Fall 1669

The Man on the Moon

Katsura-otoko, originally a Chinese myth that a man lives on the moon. He spends his days pruning the branches of a Katsura tree. The Katsura is similar to the Red Bud tree, a good shade tree, not large whose flowers appear in Spring before the leaves. Anyone who has ever pruned a Katsura, or a Red Bud, knows that the tree grows its branches back quickly. This explains the waxing and waning of the moon.

But it doesn’t explain where he goes.

It is likely that this haiku appeared in an anthology published in 1669 when Matsuo Basho had not taken on his pen name of Basho (Banana). Rather he was going by Tosei, meaning ‘unripe peach.’

Notes on Translation

Katsura (a flowering tree like a Red Bud) otoko (man) sumazu (does not live) nari keri (a story relating past events) ame no tsuki (literally rain of the moon)

In Chinese folklore, he is known as Wu Gang (吴刚), and he spends his time endlessly cutting down a tree growing on the moon.

Katsura-otoko sumazu nari keri ame no tsuki

It’s Hot

August 1689
Oku no Hosomichi

I have no GPS to track Matsuo Basho on his journey into Japan’s northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi). Roughly speaking, it is July or August, depending on one’s use of the lunar or solar calendar. Basho and Sora, his traveling companion, are on Japan’s western coast, near Niigata. Four or five months into their journey by foot, boat, and pony. They have go to be getting homesick. There is little relief from the bright red sun.

Red, bright red!
a sun without pity and
now the autumn wind!

あかあかと 日はつれなくも 秋 の風
aka aka to hi wa tsurenaku mo aki no kaze

Matsuo Basho, Oku no Hosomichi, on the western coast, August 1689

Back in Kansas

Late August, 2023
The Flint Hills, Kansas

It’s one hundred and six in the shade. It is Kansas in August. The sun is without pity to poets and dogs. Is the autumn wind refreshing?

My God, it’s hot, it’s hot. The sun is a big burning ball of fire in a bright blue sky. The autumn winds wilt what’s left in my garden. Out on the Flint Hills, there are few trees. I hardly sweat. I heave, I gasp, mercy me, it’s hot, damn hot!

Notes on Translation

aka (red, bright red) aka (red) to (several meanings, here probably meant as emphasis) hi (sun) wa (topic marker for the sun) tsurenaku (‘unsympathetic,’ ‘doesn’t care.’ Another source suggest that this means ‘ignorant,’ as in the sun is just being the sun and nothing more. This less anthropomorphic view is in line with Buddhism and Taoism, i.e. ‘the sun is the sun and nothing more.’) mo (another topic marker as the poet’s thought shifts to the autumn wind) aki no kaze (autumn wind).

Post Script

Bashō no yōna (the pseudonym for the author of this blog) has a daughter, who like Matsuo Basho earns her living with pen and tongue. If you are looking for confidence coaching, social media advice, and fantastic advertising check her out at hannahdavisspeaks.com, the place where you will find your voice.

Hotter than Hades

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’.

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)

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.