Cicadas

Summer Cicadas

When the sun rises, Summer cicadas are mechanical, persistent, inescapable, until the sun sets.

Like an alarm clock,

Try as I might, I can’t stop.

— Cicadas crying

To Matsuo Bashō the voice of a cicada is quite profound.

静けさや
岩にしみ入る
蝉の声

Shizukesa ya
Iwa ni shimiiru
Semi no koe

Ah, such stillness—
The sound of a cicada
sinks into the rocks.

Only Yesterday

red and white chevy

Only yesterday. Matsuo Basho did not do much thinking back. I wonder why.

a ’57 Chevy
purple and tan, I wish it were red.
a summer’s day

School’s out, the sun is hot,
counting cows, license plates from other states,
a book served as the internet.

A loaf of bread,
bologna, cheese, mustard and a pickle
Mom made lunch for us,

Ah, the Good old days,
hearty laughter, wind and dust,
as I remember it.

[A rough draft, but you know how these things are. The road stretches out, it keeps calling. When will we ever go back. ‘Tis true tis sad. How Dao. Tis true.]

Impermanence is swift

dead cicada skin on tree

In the summer of 1690, Matsuo Basho was 56 years old, staying at the “Unreal Hut” (幻獣庵 Genju-an) beside Lake Biwa near Otsu. He had just completed his long journey that one day would day become, “Oku no Hosomichi” (Journey to the Far North).

all that I see will soon die,
but one finds no sign
in the voice of the cicada
.
やがて死ぬ けしきは見えず 蝉の声
Yagate shinu keshiki wa miezu semi no koe
Matsuo Basho, Summer of 1690

Basho added this note to the haiku, “無常迅速.”

Impermanence is swift
無常迅速
Mujōjinsoku

An English equivalent, “Here today, gone tomorrow.” Like a cicada, adopt a devil-may-care attitude, don’t worry.

This phrase often appears as 生死事大 無常迅速, (Shōshijidai Mujōjinsoku) meaning living and dying are matters of importance, impermanence is swift.

An English equivalent, “Make the most of your life.”

Note. Those noisy cicadas 蝉 are a bane to those who love silence, but a treat for hungry birds. Patience, dear friend, most of them are gone by the middle of July.

Speak

As you like it:

When the frog meets the pond, when you speak,
Whether you whisper or shout, it’s
— the sound of existence.

— Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho’s most well-known haiku

Whether you whisper or shout,
When you speak, like the frog and the pond, it’s
— the sound of existence.
— Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho’s most well-known haiku

To write, to be, or not to be, one must write to be.

Fragile as dew on a blade of grass,
Heavy as a stone tossed in a lake,
To be heard one must speak
— Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho’s most well-known haiku