Gazing at morning glories eating breakfast – Basho

I am one
Who eats his breakfast
Gazing at morning glories

朝顔に
我は飯食ふ
男かな

asagao ni / ware wa meshi kû / otoko kana

Being Matsuo Bashō

Takarai Kikaku (宝井其角, 1661–1707) was one among the most accomplished disciples of Matsuo Bashō. One day, Kikaku composed a haiku, “by the grassy gate, a firefly eats nettles – that is what I am”.

A firefly lights up the night. Basho thought about this and concluded. I am a serious kind, like the asagao (morning glories), I open by day and wither at night. Each to his own. Thus, he composed this intentionally plain haiku.

Both haikus are clever reworkings of the Japanese proverb – “Some worms eat nettles”: Tade kuu mushi, or “every worm to his taste, some eat nettles”. Figuratively, each to his own, or there is no accounting for taste.

蓼食う虫も好き好き
tade kuu mushi sukizuki

Notes on translation

Basho’s play on words, meshi kû, and the proverb’s, kuu mushi. The Japanese character 虫 mushi is broadly speaking a bug or insect. My guess is that the proverb refers to nettle eating caterpillars.

In line with Kikaku’s haiku, one could and possibly should translate as,

Watching morning glories, eating rice cakes – that is who I am

朝顔に asago ni, “gazing” at morning glories is a poetic choice, Basho could also have been “sitting”, “watching” or simply being “surrounded by” the flower. It is a Zen thing – to be or do.

Who are you?

Summer Grass 夏草 natsuka

summer grass
all that remains
of a Samurai’s dream

夏草や　兵どもが　夢の跡

Natsukusa ya/ Tsuwamonodomo ga/ Yume no ato

June 29, 1689

Having left Edo in late spring of 1689, Matsuo Basho and Sora travel north, arriving at Hiraizumi on June 29th. Once the seat of the Northern branch of the Fujiwara family, it was destroyed in 1189. As the poet gazes down at the old battlefield, he hears in his head the words of the ancient Chinese poet Du Fu and explains:

“In the space of a dream, three glorious generations of Fujiwara vanished; two miles in the distance are the remains of the Great Gate. Hidehira’s headquarters have turned into rice paddies and wild fields. Only Kinkeizan, the Golden Fowl Hill, remains as it once was.

First, we climbed Takadachi, Castle-on-the-Heights, from where we could see the Kitakami, a broad river that flows from the south. Nearby, Koromo River rounds Izumi Castle and at a point beneath Castle-on-the-Heights, it drops into Kitakami. The ancient ruins of Yasuhira and others, lying behind Koromo Barrier, appear to close off the southern entrance and guard against the Ainu barbarians.

With his most loyal retainers, Yoshitsune fortified himself in the castle, but his dreams of glory quickly turned to grass.

“The state is destroyed, / rivers and hills remain. / The city walls return to spring, / grasses and trees are green. “

With Du Fu’s lines in my head, I lay down my bamboo hat and let time and tears flow.”

Notes on translation

夏草 natsuka, summer grass

兵 tsuwamono, warrior, soldier, more specifically a brave and strong soldier, a Samurai 侍 which Basho once was. Basho’s use of the older term 兵 tsuwamono, is suggestive of a lowly soldier or pawn, someone utilized by others

夢の跡 yume no ato, the trace, mark of a dream. Compare Basho’s idea with William Shakespeare’s “We are such stuff / As dreams are made on.” (The Tempest, 1610/1611)

More thoughts on Basho’s Summer Grass

The grass of summer
And warriors’ dreams
Are all that’s left.

The grass of summer, the only trace of a Samurai’s dreams

Summer grass! All that left of a Samurai’s dream.

The Tale of Genji

Whereby Matsuo Basho sees a woman making rice cakes and envisions a scene from The Tale of the Genji.

Tying a rice cake / Held with one hand / Oh, the strands of my hair

粽結ふ　片手にはさむ　額髪

Chimakiyufu katate ni hasamu hitaigami

The Tale of Genji

We have all played this game – summarize a complicated story in a few words. Perhaps, one of Matsuo Basho’s disciples issued the challenge for the 11th century masterpiece, The Tale of Genji is an 11th century tale of the son of an ancient Japanese emperor and a low-ranking concubine. She dies and the Genji (Hikaru Genji, “Shining Genji”) is removed from the line of imperial succession and made a commoner.

Matsuo Basho’s word picture portrays a woman, no doubt she is lovely, wrapping and knotting (結) a chimaki (粽 a sweet and savory rice cake) with a bamboo leaf. With one hand she ties it with a string while with the other hand she brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Notes on Translation

粽 Chimaki, or Zongzi, a rice dumpling wrapped in palm leaves. In Japan this is traditionally prepared on Children’s Day, thus, for Basho, it describes Kiritsubo Consort’s love for her son Hikaru Genji.

結 yui, tie, to fasten, hold, a knot.

片手 katate, one hand.

む mu, used for inflection.

額髪 hitaigami, the hair on the forehead, bangs.

Do cherry blossoms wonder

I remember many, many things,
do cherry blossoms,
I wonder?

さまざまの事おもひ出す櫻かな

Samazama no koto omoidasu sakura kana

Sakura matsuri

In Japan, in late March and early April, they celebrate the Sakura matsuri, or cherry blossom festival.

All eyes will be on the light pink florets as they fill the city sidewalks, public parks, and temple gardens with quivering bursts of color in the gentle breeze of early spring. Picnicking under the blossoms is an ancient tradition. Then, all too soon, the petals begin to fall, and the scene becomes a distant memory.

One explanation of Basho’s haiku is that he is recalling that he abandoned the way of samurai and decided to live the way of haiku. Or simply that cherry blossoms encourage random thoughts.

Memories

さまざまのこと思い出す桜かな
Samazama no koto omoidasu sakura ka na

The sibilant repetition of the “s” and “z” sounds (samazama, omoidasu, sakura). The repeated consonants of “k” (koto, sakura, kana) produce a melodic sound to Basho’s phrase. “Do you remember many things?” is today’s colloquial understanding of the phrase. A more literal translation is, “Various things, they call to mind, ah, cherry blossoms!”

Notes on translation

さまざま samazama, various, many, many
事 koto, thing, matter
櫻 sakura, cherry blossoms
かな kana, I wonder

In the morning calm

In the morning calm
Only the sound of the rock
And the voice of the cicada

閑けさや　岩にしみいる　蝉の声

shizukasa ya / iwa ni shimiiru / semi no koe

Journey to the Deep North, Summer of 1689

The clouds were drifting along, and the wind stirred a wanderlust.

Thus it was that Matsuo Bashō decided in the spring of 1689 to journey to Japan’s north. By summer, Matsuo Bashō arrived at the Ryushakuji Buddhist temple on Yamadera (山寺 literally, Mountain Temple), northeast of Yamagata in Japan’s far north.

In his travel diary, Basho explains:

“In Yamagata province, there is a temple called Ryushakuji, founded by the great priest Jikaku. This temple is known for the absolute tranquility of its holy grounds…. The rocks on which the temple is built bear the color of eternity. They are covered with tender moss. The shrine doors are firmly barred and not a sound can be heard. As I move on hands and feet from rock to rock, bowing at each shrine, the purifying power of this sanctuary pervades my being.”

Sibilance

One guesses, I suppose, that Matsuo Basho tries to imitate the cicada’s shrill sound through the technique of sibilance, shizukasaya / iwa nishimiiru / semi no koe.

I will also propose paraphrased variations inspired by other translators (one example and another one). So, you can decide what works best for you. All of which proves to me, if not to you, that the no haiku is perfect.

In the utter silence
Of the temple grounds,
A cicada’s voice alone
Penetrates the rocks

In the quiet
The shrill sound of cicadas
Seeps into the rocks

Notes on translation

閑 kan, peace, calm
けさ kesa, this morning
や ya, and

岩 iwa, rock
み mi, only

蝉 semi, cicada
の no, of
声 koe, voice

Like a cloud in the wind

like clouds in the wind
a wild goose and his friend
depart

or,

like a cloud in the wind
like a wildgoose and his friend
life departs

雲とへだつ友かや雁の生き別れ

kumo to hedatsu tomo ka ya kari no ikiwakare

Descending Geese at Katata, Eight Views of Ömi Province, 1957, Utagawa Hiroshige — Geese descending at Katata on Lake Biwa by Utagawa Hiroshige, 18th c.

Master Basho explains

A summer’s day near Lake Biwa, the clouds drift by and at sunset the wildgeese descend to the lake. Master Basho and his friend watch the setting sun. “Look at the cloud in the wind, like a wild-goose from the flock, my friend we all too soon depart.”

Lake Biwa

Matsuo Bashō had several connections with Lake Biwa and the surrounding area. He was born in nearby, in Iga Province, and may have studied in nearby Kyoto, Japan’s ancient capital. Basho is know to have visited Lake Biwa in 1684 and again during the summer of 1690, enjoying the scenic views, the wild life, and nearby temples.

Basho departed this world in November of 1690.

Notes on translation

雲 kumo, cloud
雁 kari, wildgoose
や ya, kana word used to connect wildgoose and friend
友 tomo, friend, companion
生 yǒu, life
別れ wakare, farewell, depart

Sleeping away from home

like a sick goose
on a cold night I fell ill and went to bed
sleeping away from home, alas

病雁の夜寒に落ちて旅寝哉
Yamukari (byōgan) no yosamu ni ochite tabine Kana

Matsuo Basho (芭蕉) explains

I had gone to see Lake Biwa and then to travel to the island of Awaji to visit friends. It was late on an autumn night.

I get sick and go to bed. Above me, I hear the honking and flapping of a flock of wild geese heading south. One among them drops out and falls to the lake. He must have gotten sick and found flying unbearable. For me, the trip is likewise unbearable. Sleeping impossible. Getting sick is bad enough.

Alas, being away from home, it’s worse.

Notes on translation

病雁, Yamukari, sick goose
夜寒 yosamu, cold night
旅寝 Tabine, trip sleeping, sleeping away from home
哉 kana, alas

The translator Gabi Greve dates this haiku to 1689, explaining that “Basho was visiting friends at the temple 本福寺 Honpuku-Ji [near Awaji] in Katata (Katada) and fell ill himself. His disciple Mikami Senna 三上千那 cared for him.” From Sarumino (猿蓑 Monkey’s Raincoat), a 1691 anthology, the date is given as 1670, which is quite a discrepancy.

Amid clouds of blossoms we walk – Matsuo Basho

Amid the clouds of blossoms
Is the bell’s chime Ueno
Or Asakusa?

花の雲鐘は上野か浅草か

Hana no kumo/ Kane ha Ueno ka Asakusa ka

Trailing clouds of blossoms we walk

In Japan, it is spring and the cherry trees are in full bloom.

We cannot know, but perhaps Matsuo Basho and his students are in Kiyosumi Gardens, in the Fukagawa District where Basho lived. A disciple begins the discussion by saying, “Is it not heavenly, Master Basho, to walk in the midst of so many cherry blossoms?”

Then a single blossom falls. To which Basho replies, “In the even the smallest flower that falls, I fear, lies a truth too deep for tears.”

At that moment the sound of the bell is heard.

Fukagawa, Ueno, Asakusa

Fukagawa, where Basho lives, is on the other side of the Sumida River from Ueno and Asakusa. These well known areas include Buddhist and Shinto temples, as well as shopping and residential areas. In Asakusa is the famous Buddhist Sensō-ji temple. In Ueno is the Shinto shrine Ueno Tōshō-gū. Ueno is known as a working class district, while Asakusa is home to the more prosperous citizens of ancient Edo.

Notes on translation

花 hana flower, blossom

雲 kumo cloud

鐘 kane bell, chime

上野 ueno, temples include the Shinto shrine Ueno Tōshō-gū; a working class area

浅草 Asakusa, an area along the Sumida River including the ancient Sensō-ji temple; it is an upscale area, a place for the rich and prosperous

清澄庭園 Kiyosumi Garden, today’s strolling garden was developed after Basho’s time on earth, but an earlier garden no doubt existed. The garden contains a stone monument to Basho and his most famous haiku, an ancient pond, frog and the sound of water.

Butterfly dreams?

Fukagawa, the cottage, Edo
Spring, 1690, age 46

Matsuo Basho had just finished writing a letter. He put down his pen and closed his eyes. He dosed for a minute, half dreaming he supposed, then he awoke with a start, and wrote again.

Were you a butterfly,
and I Zhuangzi,
dreaming this thought

or,

You are a butterfly,
I am Zhuangzi,
But am I Dreaming

君や蝶我や荘子が夢心
kimi ya chō ware ya Sōji ga yume-gokoro
kimi ya choo ware ya Sooji ga yume-gokoro
Matsuo Basho, Spring 1690

kimi (you) ya (exclamation) cho (butterfly) ware (I, me) ya (exclamation) Sooji (Zhuangi) ga (but) yume (dream) gokoro (spirit, thought, feeling)

Zhuangzi

Soogi, the Japanese name for Zhuangzi, a Chinese philosopher (4th century BC). He is thought to have lived a century after Laozi, author of the Tao de Ching. There is a well known story told of Zhuangzi:

One day he dreamed that he was a butterfly. And when he woke, he did not know whether he really was a man who dreamt that he was a butterfly or a butterfly now dreaming he was a man.

Ware, i or me, emphasizing one’s own existence. The internet describes this character (我) as being literary, philosophic, Shakespearean-like, suggestive of something ancient like Zhuangzi.

Koro, heart, mind, spirit, thought.

Note. The authoritative site by Gabi Greve says that this haiku was written in a letter to Dosui Takahashi, a disciple who looked after Basho.

butterfly-drop — **kimi ya choo ware ya Sooji ga yume-gokoro**

Winter’s Drizzle

Without hat
While winter drizzles
Well, well

笠もなきわれを時雨るるかこは何と

kasa mo naki ware o shigururu ka ko wa nanto

Hiroshige-Atake-detail

Winter’s drizzle

In northern Japan, the winter drizzle 時雨 that continuously falls in late autumn and winter is a familiar sight. Here in the Midwest, in March, the rain falls to a steady beat. The farmers bless the coming of the rain, a sign of a good year to come.

Like a drifting cloud, Basho has no preconceived notion of where he’s supposed to be or go, or what he is supposed to wear.

What prompted Basho’s haiku?

This haiku is from Matsuo Basho’s book Weather-Beaten Journey (1685). The book opens with Basho’s quote of a Buddhist priest, “Traveling a thousand li, I bring no provisions, under the midnight moon, I enter the land of nothingness.”

Hat, no hat, winter’s drizzle, where am I to go, what am I to do?

Notes on translation

笠 bamboo hat
雨 rain
時雨 winter drizzle
るる continuously
かこ the past, try not to dwell on the past
何と whatever, what, when

winter rain no hat Utagawa Kuniyoshi — heavy rain no hat Utagawa Kuniyoshi, wikiart