It is said to have been written in the first year of the Jokyo Era (貞享), 1684. A compilation of poems including Basho’s had been published called Shriveled Chestnuts. And Basho was on the road on the Five Highways on the first of his four major wanderings.
Snow upon snow Tonight, the last month is December Is there a full moon or not?
雪と雪 . 今宵師走の . 名月か Yuki to yuki . Koyoi shiwasu no . Meigetsu ya — Matsuo Basho
Version Two, when there is a glimmer of hope.
Snow upon snow Tonight, the last month Is there a sliver of a moon or not?
The Moon月
It has been said that this haiku was written to settle a disagreement between two individuals (snow upon snow), each part frozen and unwilling to compromise. The moon was supposed to mediate the differences, but the cloudy weather and the snow got in the way. Tsuki is any moon. Meigtsu, refers to a full moon. A sliver of a moon (mikazuki) seems appropriate if we are trying to patch up differences.
雪と雪 . 今宵師走の . 名月か Yuki to yuki . Koyoi shiwasu no . Meigetsu ya image, Wikipedia
Matsuo Bashō, the 17th-century Japanese haiku poet, didn’t directly write about Daoism. But he did dabble in Buddhism. And he traveled, one imagines, searching for the Way. He died, on November 28, 1694, on the way to the Grand Shrine in Ise, but got no further than Osaka. He was only 50.
Way beyond words, go — All things arise from one source, Travel and behold. — The Dao, as One
Lake Biwa at night plucking the shamisen the pounding hail — Matsuo Basho, Fall, 1684
Lake Biwa / at night, the three string shamisen / sounding (like) the sound of hail 琵琶湖の / 夜や三味線の / 音あられ Biwakō no / yo ya shamisen no / oto arare
Did he like it?
In the first year of the Jōkyō (1684), on the journey of Nozarashi Kiko, in Ogaki, near the waters of Lake Biwa, at a gathering at Nyogyō’s house, Nyogyō was invited to play a Japanese shamisen. (Background Source: Yamanashi-ken)
(Shamisen三味線, a three string instrument that sounds something like a banjo.)
琵琶湖の / 夜や三味線の / 音あられ Biwakō no / yo ya shamisen no / oto arare
Shigure! be it rain or drizzle, it’s bordering on freezing. — Bashō no yōna, September 2025
In late autumn of the second year of Genroku, September 1690, Basho’s disciples (蕉門 shomon) gathered at an inn or tea house (亭te) in Iga Ueno. As everyone waited for the hot tea, they shuffled their feet and rubbed their hands in the chilly inn, Basho remarked:
to everyone and even the inn, the Autumn drizzle is freezing
人々を . しぐれよ宿は . 寒くとも Hitobito wo . Shigureyo yado wa . Samuku tomo — Matsuo Basho, September 1690
Note. Basho had been gone from Edo now for a year. He had completed the long journey into the northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi) in the summer of 1689. He was now spending time traveling around editing his magnum opus, which would not be published until after his death.
The famous Mariko teahouse by Utagawa Hiroshige, Wikipedia
By the summer of 1694, Basho was not feeling well and he knew the end was near. As if to sum up his life, he wrote this haiku.
making my way in life, in a small rice patch, back and forth . 世を旅に代かく小田の行戻り yo o tabi ni shiro kaku oda no yuki modori — Matsuo Basho, late summer, 1694
As you like it:
traveling this world, a lifetime working a rice patch, back and forth — Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho while walking, Summer 2025
世を旅に
Yo o tabi ni
making my way in life,
代かく小田の
shiro kaku oda no
in a small rice patch
行戻り
yuki modori
back and forth
Back and forth, Sowing and reaping, Seeking answers never found. — Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on the Dao, 2025
Japan’s rainy season is called “tsuyu” 梅雨. It occurs in June and July. Because the plum ripens at this time, the rainy season is also”meiyu” 梅雨. Basho is refering to the fact that sometimes the plums collect mildew and turn sour. The Ume fruit, or plum, is a popular summer fruit. and the riper it gets, the more sour.
Written in Kyoto, in the 7th year of the Kanbun era (1667), when the artist was 24 years old.
Ah, the sound of rain falling — to the ears, it sounds sour as it rains, the plum ripens
降る音や耳も酸うなる梅の雨 Furu oto ya mimi mo san unaru ume no ame — the poet who one day become Matsuo Basho, 1667
The poet, then known as Tosei 桃青, meaning green peach.
Let’s be honest Let’s be real We are lucky just to be — Bashō no yōna, 2025
One who traveled as much as Matsuo Basho must have thought about the Tao de Ching, the Dao, the Way. The ways included the Nakasendo Way connecting Edo and Kyoto, the coastal route, called the Tokaido Way that would have taken Basho near his home. Then too there was the shorter Koshu Kaido, that was an alternative of the Nakasendo Way. Then too, Basho and a friend Sora made their own way through Japan’s northern interior and along both coasts. This was the famous Oku no Hosomichi, the book that made Basho famous.
Basho wrote the book, part travelogue, part haiku about his five month journey in the spring and summer of 1689. He spent the next five years editing it until his death in 1694. It was not published until 1702.
It is easier to write Than edit, Harder still to publish.
In the blink of an eye, from here to there and back again
In the blink of an eye, from here to there and back again
On May 27th, 1689, Matsuo Basho and his companion Kawai Sora set off on a journey north into Japan interior, then to the coast at Matsushima, and back again across the interior to Sakata, from there south and west along the coast to Osaka.
By July 13th, two months in, the pair had past Matsushima, and reached Yamadera (it translates simply to “mountain temple”) and its mountain Buddhist retreat Risshakuji. To reach the top, Basho must climb the 1,015 stone steps to Okunoin Temple. The noisy village was far behind. The mountain air was clear. His lungs were struggling to keep up. Then, as he gazed out on the valley …
Tranquility …, then, the cicada’s speaks deep within the rocks shizukasa ya . iwa ni shimiiru . semi no koe 閑けさや 岩にしみいる 蝉の声 — Matsuo Basho, Oku no Hosomichi, July 1689
Tranquility
shizukasa (閑けさ), tranquility, a state of peace and tranquility. This is often translated as “silence.” Take a walk along a creek or on a trail that leads up a mountain side. Then, half way there, when it is utterly quiet, you decide.
It is strange, to think that no matter how hard one thinks, one will never know what the cicada thinks. And that, one supposes, is the point of it.
Don’t try so hard.
Risshakuji is known as a Zen Buddhist retreat. Zen focuses on meditation as the key to understanding nature, and awakening one’s inner wisdom. I would say stress, but stress has too many contradictory connotations. In Zen, one must stay calm, relax.
sigh, this summer grass is all that remains — a mighty samurai’s dreams . natsukusa ya tsuwamono domo ga yume no ato. 夏草や兵共がゆめの跡
Hiraizumi, Iwate prefecture Summer 1689
Like swallows, like the stork, like the Monarch butterfly, in summer, man migrates from home to vacation and suffer the heat. Matsuo Basho did not invent summer travel in Japan, but he did popularize it. His travelogues, a combination of haiku and commentary on local scenes were published during and after his lifetime. Highways were built.* Way stations were maintained and rest-stops and inns were conveniently located at distances of 20 miles apart.
Along the Oku no Hosomichi, Basho’s journey into Japan’s northern interior in the summer of 1689.
At Hiraizumi, the northernmost point on Basho’s journey that one day would be called Oku no Hosomichi, Basho detoured to the land where the Oshu Fujiwara clan prospered for three generations in the late Heian period (Heian, meaning peace, 794 to 1185).
Here, Minamoto no Yoshitsune, the third generation of the powerful Minamoto clan, fled fleeing the fickle emperor for whom he had gallantly fought but now was condemned. Far to the north, surrounded by mountains, to Hiraizumi he fled. Given refuge, he lived in peace, until the death of his protector whose son betrayed vilely him. In a final battle, Yoshitsune met his end.
Standing on the hill, in the midst of the dying summer grass, there Yoshitsune’s forces fought to the last man.
What do you think?
Grass as a metaphor for a dead warrior
Basho’s thoughts: “Three generations of glory of the Fujiwara clan vanished like a dream; the hills and rivers remain unchanged, as they were in the past.” How Dao, death comes to us all, and Nature reclaims everything, in the passage of time, restoring what is to the way it once was.
“Cry out,” a voice said, And said I, “What shall I cry?” “Our flesh is like grass, its beauty like the flower of the field… The grass withers, the flower fades.” Isaiah, 40:6–8
“I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.” Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, 1855
Note. Five Routes established by the Tokugawa shogunate. The Nakasendo and Tokaido were the most popular. Both connected Edo and Kyoto, the Nakasendo through the mountains, Tokaido along the coast. The Japanese artist Utagawa Hiroshige immortalized the “55 Stations of the Tokaido” in print.
Matsuo Basho wrote this haiku in the summer of the 7th year of the Genroku era. It is 1694, the year Basho’s life would come to an end.
A spark of lightning in my hands in the darkness — this paper candle . 稲妻を . 手にとる闇の . 紙燭哉 inazuma o . te ni toru yami no . shisoku kana — Matsuo Basho, June (?), 1694
It was 1694, the last year of Matsuo Basho’s life. I suppose without knowing for sure, it was summer and raining. Matsuo Basho sat up late, writing by the light of a lamp. Perhaps, the lamp light went out, then lightning, then Basho lit a paper candle to find his way in the darkness.
For me, it is in the middle of June, early morning and raining. My dog Lucy hides in a corner in the closet, afraid of the thunder and lightning. Why, I wonder?
Gentle Reader:
You may disagree with my translation. You may draw other conclusions. This is reasonable for haiku are meant to be personal. Like the way my dog Lucy reacts to the lightning and thunder.
Inazuma (稲妻) translates to “lightning,” or “flash of lightning,” that is, the cosmic spark of divinity that lights up the sky at night. As a metaphor, it symbolizes the ability to cut through ignorance and delusion, the way a lightning bolt illuminates the darkness. Buddhism expresses the thought as a transitory moment. I see, but only for a moment.
Then comes the phrase te ni toru yami no (手にとる闇の) which means “take the darkness in your hands.” This is followed by shisoku kana (紙燭哉), meaning a small paper candle or torch. Lacking matches, the Japanese of Basho’s time, lit these paper candles from another source then carried them about to either light the way or illuminate a lamp.
As an aside, let me quote Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, who said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” So, dear friend, be the light and not the darkness.
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