The Temple Wife

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) ware ni (“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.

Daoism

Words Fail Me

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’.

Summer Snow

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.

Notes on 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

Bashō no yōna, late Spring, 2023
South Rim, Grand Canyon

A Portrait of the Poet as a Young Man

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).

TAO, the University of Wisconsin website, http://terebess.hu/english/haiku/matsuo.html puts the date of the haiku as Autumn 1678.

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.

Nihonbashi District of Edo

Fawns and Fading Stars

July 7, Enpō 6, 1678
Matsuo Basho, 35 years old

Summer or Autumn? What is your favorite season? Why do deer like autumn? A fawn loses its star-like spots. Its coat switches to the dull brown color allowing it to blend into the winter forest. And the fawn is old enough to be weaned. Mothering is done. The season of love has begun.

Autumn will come,
a spouse loves the fading stars
on the fawn

秋来ぬと妻恋ふ星や鹿の革
aki kinu to / tsuma kou hoshi ya / shika no kawa

Tanabata, Double Seven

Matsuo is 35 years old, not yet Basho, the weather beaten banana tree, still Tosei, the unripe peach, taking it all in.

In the midst of summer the theaters and cafes in Edo’s lively Nihonbashi District would have emptied and everyone would sit out under the stars and enjoy the festival of Double Seven.

Summer is here. In the Milky Way, the cowherd and the weaver are lighting up the heavens. On the other hand, when autumn comes, on earth, when mothering is done, the deer will make love.

Tanabata is the Japanese celebration of the meeting of the two stars Vega and Altair, which takes place on July 7th, thus the name Tanabata, Double Seven. Zhinü, 織女 is the weaver girl, (the star Vega) and Niulang, 牛郎, the cowherd, (Altair). In Chinese and Japanese mythology they are two lovers who are separated and meet only once a year.

aki kinu to (autumn will come, when autumn comes) / tsuma (wife, spouse) kou (loves) hoshi (stars) ya (emphasis) / shika no kawa (on the fawn)

aki kinu to tsuma kou hoshi ya shika no kawa

Matsuo Wanting to Change

Enpo 9, Summer 1681
Basho is 38 years old,
Likely at Lake Biwa

Keep in mind, at the age of 38, the poet then called Tosei (unripe peach) was wanting to change.

Nature has made you the way you are, but Nature can change how you appear. Consider Zhuangzi’s saying, “A duck’s legs are short, to stretch them would worry him. A crane’s legs are long, to shorten them would make him sad.” (Zhuangzi, 6:8-9).

Summer rain
on the cranes, the legs are
becoming shorter

五月雨に鶴の足短くなれり
samidare ni tsuru no ashi mijikaku nareri

Matsuo Basho, Summer 1681

Summer 1691

Seeking change.

Change was afoot. In the summer of 1681, outside of Edo, by the Sumida River, Basho was getting used to his new home in the then rural Fukagawa District. In relative isolation he began the study of of the ancients including Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi. The cycles of the seasons, the appearance of the egrets and cranes nesting and fishing along the river, and especially the rainy days of early summer were subjects for thought. Zhuangzi says keep your inborn nature, Buddhism teaches change. So Basho says, the quickest way to change the world around you is to change yourself, i.e., move to Fukagawa, live in a cottage, and, walk in the river to shorten your legs.

samidare (literally 5th month, but Basho intends “early summer rain”) ni (on, referring to the crane legs) tsuru no ashi (crane legs) mijikaku (short) nareri (becoming)

hiroshige, cranes in the marsh, http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/36720

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

mustard field, rapeseed

As in Shakespeare’s, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, for Matsuo Basho, a visit to an ancient castle ruin on midsummer day becomes dream-like.

Summer grass —
what’s left of
a brave warrior’s dream

夏草や 兵どもが 夢の跡

natsukusa ya tsuwamono domo ga yume no ato

Matsuo Basho, Oku no Hosomichi, June 1689

Notes on Translation — natsukusa (summer grass) ya (emphasis) tsuwamono (a brave warrior, samurai) domo (very) ga (but, used to show contrast) yume (dream) no (of, possessive showing a relationship) ato (left behind)

Hiraizumi

In Matsuo Basho’s Journey into the Northern Interior (Oku no Hosomichi), Basho takes us into a dream-like world of the samurai at Hiraizumi.

Three weeks on the journey into Japan’s northern interior, 230 miles (380 kilometers), as the crow flies from Edo. Lost for two days on a lonely mountain trail, making only 10 miles a day on foot, Matsuo Basho and Sora have come to tiny Hiraizumi (平泉), in Iwate Prefecture, home to the lost glory of the Fujiwara clan. Once known as the “mirror of Kyoto” and capital of the historic North.

Fujiwara no Hidehira (藤原 秀衡, c. 1122-1187) was the third ruler of Northern Fujiwara clan in northern Mutse Province (today, Iwate). He sheltered the samurai Minamoto no Yoshitsune, who fell out of favor with his brother Minamoto no Yoritomo. In 1187, Hidehira died, but not before exacting a promise from his son to continue to shelter Yoshitsune. 1189, Yoritiomo surrounded the Fujiwara castle with his troops. Yoshitsune committed seppuku and Yoritomo destroyed the castle, killing Hidehira’s son, ending, as Basho says, “three glorious generations” of brave warriors.

Basho writes:

“June 29, 1689, the glory of three generations of the Fujiwara clan
passed as if in a dream. The ruins of the Great Gate (大門, daimon) lie less than half a mile from the castle.”

Matsuo Basho, Oku no Hosomichi, at Hiraizumi, June 1689

Changing Directions

At this point, barely a month into the journey, Basho concludes that it is time to quit traveling north. Time to head west, across Japan’s interior by way of the swiftly flowing Mogami River, then home, back along the western coast.

Chinese poets of the Tang dynasty also wrote of the devastation of war. One well known poem by Du Fu, goes, in part, “Our country is in ruins, while hills and streams remain. In Spring, grass and trees grow in the cities…”

Clip Clop

Basho on a horse

Tenwa, 3rd year, Summer
1685, Age 41

In late 1684, Matsuo Basho left Edo to once again travel alone on the highways connecting the capital and Kyoto. Along the way he rethought his haiku style and reflected on life. In 1685, as summer ended, he made his way home back to Edo.

A horse, peaceful and quiet
(boku, boku, clip clop)
Oh, I see myself
In a summer field!

馬ぼくぼく/ 我を絵に見る/ 夏野かな
Uma boku boku ga o e ni miru natsuno kana

Matsuo Basho, Summer, 1685

French

Un cheval, calme et tranquille (clic clac)
Oh, je me vois
Une image sur le champ d’été !

Meanwhile in Europe

René Descartes (1596–1650), French mathematician and philosopher, is inquiring into the difference between perception and reality. “Cogito ergo sum,” he concluded, all that I can know is that I think, therefore I am. Basho is one step removed. “Learn about pine trees from the pine, and about bamboo from the bamboo.”

Is Basho now thinking he is the horse, or the rider, peacefully walking through a summer field?

Once in Montmartre

Present day, more or less, remembering.

Either way, Basho is “going to the balcony,” (the painting), a mental attitude of detachment where one can calmly see what is happening.

Years ago, it seems like yesterday, I was with an artist friend in Montmartre, Paris’ artist village that sits on top of a hill. Five French artists were lined up with their subjects in front of a cafe where my friend and drank beer and watched. One artist, the best, would occasionally look away and shake his head before turning back to the canvas. When I asked my friend why he did this, he explained that the artist was removing his preconceived notions from his head, detaching himself from the scene and painting what was there and not what he perceived.

Matsuo Basho riding a horse by Sugiyama Sanpū 杉山杉風 (1647-1732)

Notes on Translation

Uma (horse) boku boku (boku meaning “I” or “me” in a humble way, boku boku, onomatopoeic, the sound of walking), ga (“I”, “myself”) o (“o” separating Basho from the action of riding the horse) e (picture) ni (at) miru (look, looking, watching) natsu (summer) no (field) kana (particle indicating both doubt and exclamation, “oh my”)

Sugiyama Sanpū (1647-1732) was a wealthy fish merchant in Edo and life-long patron of Matsuo Basho. He provide Basho with the Bashoan (banana) cottage in Fukagawa, Edo. Sanpu was present when Basho and Sora set off on the trip that was to become Oku no Hosomichi (1689). Basho referenced Sanpu, saying “the eyes of a fish (meaning Sanpu) are full of tears.”

Wild Abandon

June, 1687

It is June 21. Summer has arrived and everything has changed, or has it? Matsuo Basho is out for a walk, alone, with paper and pen, composing, on a warm day, when suddenly he is startled by a frog jumping into an old familiar pond.

“Poems are never completed — they are abandoned.”

Paul Valery, La Nouvelle Revue Française, 1933

That is close to the truth of what Valery said, but not exactly. Exactly said, it is this: “Aux yeux de ces amateurs d’inquiétude et de perfection, un ouvrage n’est jamais achevé, – mot qui pour eux n’a aucun sens, – mais abandonné.”

In English, it becomes: “In the eyes of these lovers of restlessness and perfection, a work is never finished – a word which for them has no meaning – but abandoned.” As Valery was discussing his poem The Cemetery by the Sea, work becomes “poems”.

Even that, dear friends, is not exact, for Valery goes on to add other words by way of explanation. That is, he adds context. Context is the setting, time, mood, age, feeling, something that clarifies its meaning.

Let us take Matsuo Basho’s well known frog haiku:

Furu ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto

古池や蛙飛こむ水のおと

Old pond — frogs jumps in — sound of water

Matsuo Basho, Jōkyō 3, 1687, age 43

Does it matter if the pond is large or small, covered in lily pads or algae, the frog is startled, that the frog was croaking, that Basho is startled, that he was walking or sitting, thinking, talking, the sound is splash or kerplunk?

The frog disappears. Is this a spiritual transformation? kawasu — 換える, 替える, 代える, are verbs meaning “exchange” or “substitute”. Suddenly, we are on a metaphysical plain.

What if we think or the haiku as a question: What is the sound of water? Of course, it is many things, the sound of waves on the shore, or a mountain stream that flows upon the rocks. What if we ask a small child?

To a frog, she thunk — “kerplunk.”

Thus, to the enlightend Buddhist monk and the delighted little girl, Basho’s haiku is this:

An old pond, the frog that jumps becomes, the sound of water.

Matsuo Basho, revised haiku

Let us write with wild abandon, get lost in thought, never done.

Basho no yona, Summer 2023
An old pond, a frog jumps, the sound of water. To a little girl, she thunk — kerplunk.