Obanazawa, #25

Summer, 1689. The Mogami River tumbles into a mountain valley in northern Yamagata Prefecture. There one finds peaceful Obanazawa, 尾花沢, meaning Marsh of Irises. Matsuo Basho, and his companion Sora, are staying with Seifu, a well-to-do safflower merchant and haiku poet.

涼しさを我宿にしてねまる也
suzushisa o waga yado ni shite nemaru nari

making coolness
my lodging
for a while, I may rest

這出よかひやが下のひきの声
Haideyo kaiya ga shita no hiki no koe

Crawl and creep
From under this shed
You loud mouth frog

Note. Hai, the first character in this haiku has several meanings. Creep and crawl is the intended meaning, but as homophone, it means to bow reverentially. Another meaning is “to give up.” Kaiya, the shed where the silkworms are kept. Kiki. A Bullfrog. Frogs and toads eat caterpillars. Kaiya, also a Japanese feminine name meaning “Forgiveness.”

まゆはきを俤にして紅粉の花
mayuhaki o omokage ni shite beni no hana

recalling to mind
an eyebrow brush
benihana (Safflower blossoms)
Oku no Hosomichi, Obanazawa, Summer 1684, Matsuo Basho

Note. Mayu, まゆ the first two characters, means eyebrow. Its homophone, 繭 a silkworm cocoon. Beni no hana, 紅粉の花, literally red powder flower. Safflowers produce yellow and red dyes which range from light yellow through pink, rose and crimson. For this reason, they are popular in cosmetics.

Basho’s annotation from the travelogue, Oku no Hosomichi:

“I visited Seifu in Obanazawa. He is a rich merchant of a truly poetic turn of mind. He has a deep understanding of the hardships of being on the road, for he himself had often traveled to the capital city. He invited me to stay at his place as long as I wished, trying to make me comfortable in every way he could.”

尾花沢にて清風と云者を尋ぬ。かれは富るものなれども、志いやしからず。都にも折々かよひてさすがに旅の情をも知たれば、日比とゞめて、長途のいたはり、さま％＼にもてなし侍る。

Basho added this haiku by Sora:

蠶飼する人は古代のすがた哉
kogai suru hito wa kodai no sugata kana

those tending silkworms keep their ancient appearances
Sora

Note. Kogai, 蠶飼. Silkworms are the larval form of the silk moth. The caterpillar spins a cocoon out of silk fibers for its metamorphosis into a moth. Silkworms have been domesticated since at least 3500 BC.

Yamadera 細道

July 13, 1689

Station 26, Risshakuji Temple

In the stillness of summer, deep within the rocks of Yamadera, comes the cry of a cicada.

In the quiet, penetrating the rock, the cry of a cicada
閑さや岩にしみ入蝉の声
shizukasa ya iwa ni shimi-iru semi no koe
Oku no Hosomichi, Matsuo Basho, July 1689

Note. Of course, various translations exist. Many of them can be found on Haiku Topics by Dr. Gabi Greve. 閑, Kan means ‘quiet’ but conveys the idea of ‘Emptiness’ in Taoism and Buddhism. 岩, Yán, rock signifies the idea of permanence, and 蝉, Chán, the cicada, a symbol of rebirth and regeneration, all combined in one memorable haiku.

Risshakuji, 立石寺

After visiting Seifu in Obanazawa, Basho detoured south to Yamadera, 山寺, the popular name for the Buddhist temple Risshakuji, 立石寺. It is located on the steep slopes of Mt. Hoju, in northern Yamagata Prefecture.

It was there, that Basho composed his well known haiku on the cicada.

In Chinese and Japanese lore, cicadas are high status creatures one seeks to emulate. They are considered pure because they subsist on dew and sap. Lofty because of they perch in trees. In summer, their call is loud and long.

By crawling around, Basho showed respect and emulated the cicada. Perhaps, he hoped, his words could penetrate even the stone itself.

As they have.

Basho’s Notes

From Oku no Hosomichi:
Risshakuji Temple

In Yamagata province is Ryushakuji Temple. Founded by the great teacher Jikaku Daishi, this temple is known for the quiet tranquility of its grounds. Told by everyone to see it, I left Obanazawa. Reaching it in the late afternoon, the sun still lingering. I arranged to stay at the foot of the mountain with the temple priests. I then climbed to the temple itself near the summit.

The mountain consists of boulder upon boulder covered with ancient pines and oaks. The stony ground in the color of eternity, covered in velvety moss. The shrine’s doors were barred and no sound could be heard.

I crawled on all fours from rock to rock, bowing at each shrine, feeling the purifying power of this holy place filling my being.

立石寺

山形領に立石寺と云山寺あり。慈覚大師の開基にて、殊清閑の地也。一見すべきよし、人々のすゝむるに依て、尾花沢よりとつて返し、其間七里ばかり也。日いまだ暮ず。梺の坊に宿かり置て、山上の堂にのぼる。岩に巖を重て山とし、松柏年旧土石老て苔滑に、岩上の院々扉を閉て物の音きこえず。岸をめぐり、岩を這て仏閣を拝し、佳景寂寞として心すみ行のみおぼゆ。

Echigo 越後

July, 7, 1689

Departing Sakata, on Japan’s northwestern coast, clouds gathered along the Hokuriku Road. My heart was heavy when I heard it was a 130 li (Japanese miles, two and one half miles to the li, making it a distance of 325 US miles) to the capital of Kaga province.

Traveling south along the coast, I arrived at Echigo province (north-central coast) through the barrier-gate of Nezu, and then on to Etchu province through the barrier-gate of Ichiburi. During the nine days of this journey, I wrote little, what with the heat and humidity. My old complaint bothering me immeasurably.

Fuzuki (July) the 6th is not an ordinary night
Tomorrow —
The Weaver meets her lover
文月や六日も常の夜には似ず
fumizuki ya muika mo tsune no yo ni wa nizu
The stormy sea and Sado Island
Swelling before
The Heavenly River
荒海や佐渡によこたふ天河
araumi ya sado ni yokotau amanogawa
Oku no Hosomichi, Matsuo Basho, July 1689

Note. Tanabata, the Star Festival, on the seventh night of the seventh lunar month, based upon an older Chinese celebration. In the Japanese version, the two stars Altair and Vega, representing a cowherd and a weaver girl, though separated by the vast distance of the Milky Way, are allowed to meet once a year. From Ichiburi, Basho was looking out across the Sea of Japan to distant Sado Island. The rough waves and the reflection of the Milky Way (天河, Chinese for Tianhe, Heavenly River) making a path for the two lovers to return to earth for one night.

Basho’s notes.

酒田の余波日を重て、北陸道の雲に望、遥々のおもひ胸をいたましめて加賀の府まで百卅里と聞。鼠の関をこゆれば、越後の地に歩行を改て、越中の国一ぶりの関に到る。此間九日、暑湿の労に神をなやまし、病おこりて事をしるさず。

Hiroshige’s Echigo, Famous Places of Japan’s Provinces, 1853, source Wikipedia

Matsushima

July 1689

Matsushima, Matsuo Basho says, is the most beautiful place in all of Japan. It means “pine island,” so named because the many islands, tall and small, are covered with pine trees. Its name also has an obvious connection to Matsuo. It lies in a bay in northern Miyagi Prefecture.

Poets, authors, and painters, all come to Matsushima to take in its loveliness, to try and capture the feeling. The site they come to see are the hundreds of islands, like shattered shards of a mirror in the sparkling summer water. Each island covered in pine trees.

A true artist recognizes that his or her artistry can never replace Nature’s beauty. Basho says so, “Each single pine, flourishing, so pretty, gorgeous, beyond words.” This sentiment explains the following haiku:

Matsushima ya, aa Matsushima ya, Matsushima ya
Matsushima, Ah! Matsushima! Matsushima!

We, who are skeptics, must pause. For some say the haiku is apocryphal, Basho is not the author, and that may be true, but the sentiment is apropos, making it nevertheless delightful.

[“Words, words, words.” Basho’s purported haiku reminds me of Shakespeare’s Hamlet responding to Polonius asking him what he is reading, “Words, words, words,” suggesting that words are meaningless, a medium for thought. Repetition can have the opposite effect as in this ditty I remember from childhood. “By the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea, You and I, oh, how happy we’ll be.“]*

It is also said, Basho wrote another haiku about Matsushima. It goes like this:

Shimajima, chiji ni kudakete, natsu no omi
island upon island, shattered in a thousand pieces, on a summer sea

This haiku too, we must be skeptical of.

Basho in his journal did write this, “The moon rose, glittering over the dark sea. The wind roared and the clouds flew by. In this strange world, Sora wrote a haiku,

松嶋や鶴に身をかれほとゝぎす
Matsushima ya, tsuru ni mi o kare , hotogisu
Matsushima, oh!
borrow the wings of a crane to fly to
little cuckoo
Matsushima, Sora, Summer, 1689

The English sense of Sora’s haiku may be:

“That I may fly to Matsushima,” the little cuckoo cried to the lovely crane, “Oh, may I borrow your elegant wings.”

Wordless in Matsushima

Basho himself, gave up trying to write of such beauty and went to bed, but couldn’t sleep.

Instead, he took from his backpack Soda’s poem on Matsushima and waka on Matsu ga
Urashima by Hara Anteki, along with haiku by Sanpu and Jokushi.

Wordless, speechless, aghast and tongue-tied, nevertheless Basho managed to write the following. From Oku no Hosomichi:

松島

抑ことふりにたれど、松嶋は扶桑第一の好風にして、凡洞庭西湖を恥ず。東南より海を入て、江の中三里、浙江の湖をたゝふ。嶋／＼の数を尽して、欹ものは天を指、ふすものは波に葡蔔。あるは二重にかさなり三重に畳みて、左にわかれ右につらなる。負るあり抱るあり、児孫愛すがごとし。松の緑こまやかに、枝葉汐風に吹たはめて、屈曲をのづからためたるがごとし。其景色えう然として美人の顔を粧ふ。ちはや振神のむかし、大山ずみのなせるわざにや。造化の天工、いづれの人か筆をふるひ詞を尽さむ。

雄嶋が磯は地つゞきて海に出たる嶋也。雲居禅師の別室の跡、坐禅石など有。将松の木陰に世をいとふ人も稀／＼見え侍りて、落穂松笠など打けぶりたる草の庵閑に住なし、いかなる人とはしられずながら、先なつかしく立寄ほどに、月海にうつりて昼のながめ又あらたむ。江上に帰りて宿を求れば、窓をひらき二階を作て、風雲の中に旅寝するこそ、あやしきまで妙なる心地はせらるれ。

松嶋や鶴に身をかれほとゝぎす [曾良]

予は口をとぢて眠らんとしていねられず。旧庵をわかるゝ時、素堂松嶋の詩あり。原安適松がうらしまの和哥を贈らる。袋を解てこよひの友とす。且杉風濁子が発句あり。

十一日、瑞岩寺に詣。当寺三十二世の昔、真壁の平四郎出家して、入唐帰朝の後開山す。其後に雲居禅師の徳化に依て、七堂甍改りて、金壁荘厳光を輝、仏土成就の大伽藍とはなれりける。彼見仏聖の寺はいづくにやとしたはる。

See the translation at another site, Teresbess

The song By the Beautiful Sea, 1914, music by Harry Carroll and lyrics by Harold R. Atteridge.

Wish You Were Here

two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl
year after year
how I wish you were here
Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here

On the occasion of the final illness and imminent death of Toin, Matsuo Basho’s nephew, Basho wrote a letter to his friend and disciple Torin. It was spring, Toin was slowly dying of tuberculosis. But the cherry trees were in full blossom.

Basho took Toin to see cherry blossoms one last time. He was happy at the sight of the fleeting beauty.

Torin came to Basho’s Fukagawa hut and sat up with Toin as he lay dying. After Toin’s death, Basho and Kyosho, another friend, made the trip to Basho’s home to deliver the news. Kyoriku made the journey as far as the Kiso Valley, leaving Basho alone.

Basho wrote two haiku on the occasion of the trip with Kyoriku — two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl.

The Heart of a Traveler

The Heart of a Traveler

Summer of 1693

The hearts of two wayfarers,
too soon comes the hour, we are saddened by parting,
and death’s flower.

Resembling the heart of a wayfarer, a Chinquapin flower
A wayfarer’s heart resembles, a Shinohana
旅人の　心にも似よ　椎の花
Tabibito no Kokoro nimo niyo Shinohana

Note – Shi, 死 the Japanese word for death. Shinohana, a homophone, death’s flower.

A sorrowful person will learn from the trip, taught by the flies of Kiso
憂き人の旅にも習へ木曽の蝿
uki hito no tabi ni mo narae Kiso no hae .
Matsuo Basho, Summer 1693, Kiso Valley

For Matsuo Basho, the end is near. It is the summer of 1693. His nephew Koin, who was staying with him in his Fukagawa hut, had died. Basho is on the Nakasendo Road to his home. Perhaps to deliver the news. Perhaps, Kyoriku, an artist friend accompanied him, part way, or the two met along the way. Then parted, wayfarers on life’s short journey.

Horse Chestnut flowers fallen on the ground

Much like the Horse Chestnut (Ozark chinquapin) that blooms in my backyard, in June, the Castanopsis flowers, or Chinquapin, too, are blooming in Japan’s Kiso mountains. The long cattail-like flowers falling and littering the ground.

The wabi-sabi, 侘び寂び of the moment moves Matsuo Basho. On the one hand, the flower falling to the ground comforts him with its fleeting beauty.

On the other hand, the flies give him no peace.

Found on the Internet

Letter to Kyoroku, late April, 1693.

For five or six days now, his misery has been intense,

Toin appears close to death. Last evening, Torin came over to nurse him all night long.
But this is tuberculosis, there is no quick end. The beauty of cherry blossoms dwell in my heart,
and as this was Toin’s last season, I took him to see the blossoms, and he was happy.

Note. Taihakudo Torin (d. 1719), Basho’s friend and disciple, who retraced Basho’s 1689 journey three years after his death, preparing the way for the publication of Oku no Hosomichi.

Source. Basho4humanity

Unganji temple 雲岸寺

Zen humor times two — Basho and Buccho. A woodpecker can shake a tree but not Buccho’s hut. Buccho would gladly leave his hut, but it won’t stop raining. Rain or shine, there is always something to write about.

woodpeckers,
can’t shake this hut
in its summer grove

木啄も庵はやぶらず夏木立
kitsutsuki mo io wa yaburazu natsukodachi
Oku no Hosomichi, Matsuo Basho, June 1689

Note. Kitsutsuki, 木啄も, woodpecker using kanji (Chinese) characters. Yaburazu, やぶらず, can’t shake, disturb, meaning to break Buccho’s meditation.

**yaburazu**, a woodpecker can’t shake the serenity of this place

June, 1689, Togachi prefecture

Leaving Kurobane, Basho and Sora walked seven miles into the mountains to visit Unganji temple, known for the practice of Zen meditation. The purpose of his visit was not the temple itself, but the abandoned hut of the poet Buccho. He was Basho’s Zen master and teacher from Edo.

With charcoal made from burnt pine, and with a touch of wry humor, Buccho had written about this about the hut:

My Grassy Hut,
Hardly more than five feet square,
Gladly, I’d quit,
If only it didn’t rain.

Basho’s notes:

… The priest Buccho used to live in isolation in the mountains behind the temple. He once told me that he had written the following poem on the rock of his hermitage with the charcoal he had made from pine.

雲岸寺
当国雲岸寺のおくに佛頂和尚山居跡あり。

竪横の五尺にたらぬ草の庵
むすぶもくやし雨なかりせば

と松の炭して岩に書付侍りと、いつぞや聞え給ふ。其跡みんと雲岸寺に杖を曳ば、人々すゝんで共にいざなひ、若き人おほく道のほど打さはぎて、おぼえず彼梺に到る。山はおくあるけしきにて谷道遥に、松杉黒く苔したゞりて、卯月の天今猶寒し。十景尽る所、橋をわたつて山門に入。

さてかの跡はいづくのほどにやと後の山によぢのぼれば、石上の小庵岩窟にむすびかけたり。妙禅師の死関、法雲法師の石室をみるがごとし。

木啄も庵はやぶらず夏木立

Kurobane 黒羽

May 27, 1689

By Matsuo Basho’s reckoning, it was the 9th day of the 4th lunar month (Shigatsu). He and Sora were visiting Joboji, the overseer of the Castle of Kurobane, in Tochigi Prefecture, north of Edo. His younger brother Tosui came over and took them to his home to visit his family.

黒羽の館代浄坊寺何がしの方に音信る。思ひがけぬあるじの悦び、日夜語つゞけて、其弟桃翠など云が朝夕勤とぶらひ、自の家にも伴ひて、親属の方にもまねかれ日をふるまゝに、ひとひ郊外に逍遥して、犬追物の跡を一見し、那須の篠原わけて玉藻の前の古墳をとふ。それより八幡宮に詣。与一扇の的を射し時、「別しては我国氏神正八まん」とちかひしも此神社にて侍と聞ば、感應殊しきりに覚えらる。暮れば、桃翠宅に帰る。

修験光明寺と云有。そこにまねかれて行者堂を拝す。

So the days passed…. One day we went for a walk in the outskirts [of Kurobane] to where the ancient archers practiced the art of Inuoumono (犬追物, mounted archers shooting at dogs), then past a bamboo grove to the tomb of Lady Tamamo (玉藻前, the fox spirit who caused chaos and corrupted emperors); we then paid our respects at the Hachiman Shrine (dedicated to the divinity of archery and war), where Yoichi, the samurai archer, prayed before he was challenged to shoot a flag fluttering over a drifting boat. As darkness fell, we came home.

On the mountain is a temple called Komyo with a hall dedicated to En no Gyoja (the founder of Shugendo, Buddhist/Shinto ascetics who believe in two realms of existence).

夏山に足駄を拝む首途哉
natsuyama ni ashida o ogamau kadode kana

in the summer mountains
we worshiped in rain clogs
before departing
Matsuo Basho, Oku no Hosomichi, May 1689

May 28, 2022

Memorial Day is celebrated in America on the last Monday in May. Ostensibly, it is about those who have given their lives serving in the military, but it has come to mean much more. It is about memories, of loved ones and long ago places, of near ones and dear ones, of happy times and sad times, of the good life we’ve shared.

“What is a witness if not someone who has a tale to tell and lives only with one haunting desire: to tell it. Without memory, … there is no culture, no civilization, no society, no future.”
Elie Wiesel, Holocaust survivor

Ishi no maki

June 29, 1689

After dreamy Matsushima, Matsuo Basho and Sora are off to Hiyoriyama, home to the lost glory of the Fujiwara clan.

But before that it is Ishinomaki. By some accounts, station 22 on the Oku no Hosomichi, Matsuo Basho’s best known travelogue, in English, The Narrow Road to the Deep North.

Journalists and historians write what they remember, poets dream.

Basho recalls that he and Sora had taken a path used only by woodcutters and hunters and had gotten lost on their way to Hiraizumi. The path was difficult and somehow they got ost. Then on a hilltop at Hiyoriyama, in the midst of colorfully blooming azaleas, they were able to see a bird’s eye view of the port city of Ishinomaki.

Sora says in his journal that they were never lost.

Basho says it was the 12th day (十二日) of the fifth lunar month, June 29 by today’s reckoning.

From Oku No Hosomichi:

石の巻

十二日、平和泉と心ざし、あねはの松緒だえの橋など聞傳て、人跡稀に雉兎蒭ぜうの往かふ道、そこともわかず、終に路ふみたがえて石の巻といふ湊に出。こがね花咲とよみて奉たる金花山海上に見わたし、数百の廻船入江につどひ、人家地をあらそひて、竃の煙立つゞけたり。思ひがけず斯る所にも来れる哉と、宿からんとすれど、更に宿かす人なし。漸まどしき小家に一夜をあかして、明れば又しらぬ道まよひ行。袖のわたり尾ぶちの牧まのゝ萱はらなどよそめにみて、遥なる堤を行。心細き長沼にそふて、戸伊摩と云所に一宿して、平泉に到る。其間廿余里ほどゝおぼゆ。

Ishinomaki

From the hilltop at Hiyoriyama, Basho saw “hundreds of ships, large and small, entering the harbor, and the smoke rising from countless homes that thronged the shore.”

Chance brought him to this village. Tired from his arduous trip, longing for a comfortable place to stay, but no one offered him any hospitality. A search produced a miserable house and an uneasy night.

Hoping never to see Ishinomaki again, Basho and Sora set off the next morning on a difficult two day journey to their destination, the small village of Hiraizumi.

Hiraizumi, 平和泉, its very name means the village of Peace and Harmony, a place of gardens and Buddhist temples centered on the idea of Peace in a Perfect World. That it was not easy to find, would call to mind the following story.

Peach Blossom Spring

Peach Blossom Spring, Tao Yuanming (陶淵明), written in 421.

It is the story of a chance discovery of an imaginary place where, for centuries, villagers have live in harmony, unaware of the outside world. In Tao Yuanming’s story, a fisherman sails on a stream in a forest of blossoming peach trees, where even the ground is covered by peach petals. At the source of the stream is a grotto. Though narrow, he can squeeze through and this passage leads to an undiscovered village.

The villagers are surprised to see an outsider, but they are friendly and kind. They set out wine and chicken for a feast and explain that their ancestors came here to escape the war and unrest during the troubles in the age of Ch’in (2nd c. BC), living in peace ever since. The fisherman stays for a week.

Leaving, he marks his route, but can never discover the village again.

The 21st Century Wanderer

Who has not dreamed of a place somewhere over the rainbow where blue birds sing, of a Brigadoon or Shangri-la, a lost Atlantis? Reality, sadly, often shows us life can be, a frightening Brave New World. And if not frightening, then mundane, until we are once again surprised.

Utopias are the dreams of novelists, philosophers and poets. And it is okay to dream.

Prospero:
Our revels now are ended.
These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air: And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.
We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
William Shakespeare, The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158

Basho departs

Bashō’s parting haiku is playful in which even the wildlife in the local market is moved by the sadness of separation.

行く春や鳥啼き魚の目は涙
yuku haru ya tori naki uo no me wa namida
spring is passing –birds are crying and the eyes of fish are filling with tears
Matsuo Basho, May 1689

Spring is Passing

Yaku Haru, 行く春, spring is passing, や, ya is added for emphasis to express sorrow.

Bashō started walking 333 years ago today (May 16), leaving from Senju (now Kita-Senju) on a journey that would become the basis of his famous travelogue, Oku no hosomichi, Travel to the Northern Interior. After leaving his home and traveling with friends by boat up the Sumida River, it was time to say farewell to friends.

Note. Oku no Hosomichi (奥の細道), translated as The Narrow Road to the Deep North or the Northern Interior. Hosomichi is literally narrow path, what we might call the back roads in America. Oku is literally the interior, although Basho spent much of his route on both the eastern and western shores of Japan. The book was published in 1702 after Basho’s death.