In the quiet of the night

September 13, 1681, Enpou 9
under a Chestnut moon,
Basho, 37 years old

secretly at night
a grub in the moonlight
drills into a chestnut

夜ル竊ニ虫は月下の栗を穿ツ
yoru hisokani mushi wa gekka no kuri o ugatsu
Matsuo Basho, September 13, 1681

A grub becomes a boweevil

A grub becomes a boll weevil, Tosei, an unripe peach ripens and becomes Matsuo Basho.

Tosei, the poet who would one day become Matsuo Basho, left Edo for the rural Fukagawa District, to find a home in a simple cottage. His disciples planted a banana tree (basho), but it had hardly taken root. Matsuo is studying Buddhism, thinking about transformations.

Notes on Translation. yoru (night) hisokani (secretly) mushi (a grub, a bug ) wa (particle indicating this, the grub, is what we are talking about) gekka (moonlight) no kuri (‘no’ particle meaning of, ‘kuri,’ meaning bury, scoop) o (an particle expressing a sigh or emphasis ) ugatsu (drill, pierce)

Ame

Ame, Rain
September, 11, 2023
This day will always matters

Thank goodness, it rained all day. I planted a garden two weeks ago and it hasn’t rained since then. Whether tiny sprouts pray for rain, I don’t know, but now they have no worries.

Occasionally it rained
do sprouts stop thinking,
it matters, I wonder

雨折々思ふ事なき早苗哉
ame ori ori omoufu koto naki sanae kana (1684-94 ~ summer)
Matsuo Basho, date unknown, likely spring or fall

ame (rain) ori ori (折々, occasionally) omou (what I think) koto (things that matters) naki (without) sanae (sprouts, seedlings) kana (I wonder, akin to an emoji with a puzzled look on its face)

On the 22nd anniversary of the Terrorist attack by Al-Qaeda on America and the World Trade Center.

It rained all day
on 9/11
I still stop and wonder
Bashō no yōna, September 11, 2023

The website MatsuoBasho-WKD explains that this haiku was written at a party held at the home of Taisui, 岱水, who lived close to Basho in Fukagawa. This is sourced to a book Basho’s Haiku by David Landis Barnhill. I have not found any other source to corroborate this.

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.

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.

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).