Specifically, the 山吹き yamabuki, a yellow flowering rose shrub that grows in thickets on a mountain slopes.
Matsuo Basho’s rose haiku (three versions) on a yellow rose written one year before his death. This is one of those times one says, “You had to be there.” One can not feel the mist on one’s face, see the petals lying scattered in the grass on the ground, or hear the roar of the waterfall. One can’t compete with Mother Nature.
Petals falling and scattering From a yellow rose To the noise of a waterfall
Yellow petals of a rose tumbling to the thunder of a waterfall
Petal by petal A Yellow Rose is falling To the sound of the waterfall
ほろほろと 山吹ちるか 瀧の音 Horo horo to yamabuki chiru ka taki no oto Matsuo Basho, 1693
Red Roses
Juliet says, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Of course one is aware that a haiku takes a particular form of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, whose goal is to evoke an image of the natural world that transcends a purely objective view. This does not prevent us from looking at other forms of literature as variations on the haiku. Here, for example is a truncated version of Victor Hugo’s poem, La tomb dit a la rose, a conversation between the grave and a rose.
The Grave says to the Rose The grave to the rose: – Why cry at dawn Flower of love? . The rose to the grave: What do you do with what falls Into this bottomless abyss? . The rose: Dark crypt, These tears are shed in the shadows A perfume of amber and honey. . The grave: Wistful flower, Each soul I take I make — a heavenly angel! — Victor Hugo, Poems, XXXI, 1888
An old pond A frog jumps in The sound of water 古池や 蛙飛び込む 水の音 Furu ike ya, kawazu tobikomu, mizu no oto
Let us speak of forms and shapes, of the fluidity of life, of being and being gone. Of warm summer days, of turtles and frogs, of walks with the dogs down by the creek…
Matsuo Basho’s famous frog haiku has been translated ten thousand times (万 wàn, also meaning “many” or, so many, one looses count). The words have been parsed, the meaning interpreted a thousand ways (千 sen, also meaning many in countless ways). Its parts dissected like that poor old frog in a high school biology class.
I like to go for walks with my two small dogs to Pawnee Prairie Park in Wichita, Kansas. There is a spot where we round the corner and approach the creek high up on the bank. Most days, I hear the plop of the turtle as it slips off a log into the water. I try to be silent, but somehow the turtle knows I am coming.
Am I hearing the sound of the creek or the turtle? Am I witnessing a magical change of form, the fluidity of turtle and the water?
In one sense Basho gives voice to the old pond that is otherwise silent. Is the pond offended by the interfering frog? Or does it welcome the abrupt change to an otherwise dull existence? One wonders.
Other philosophical questions to ponder:
One wonders, if a banana, is still a banana, when it is eaten?
If not, when does it cease to be a banana and become me? — Bashō no yōna
Along the same lines:
Are the bricks in a building One and the same If the building falls down? — Bashō no yōna
These amusing musings all deal with Plato’s Theory of Forms. The physical world we soon learn is not the ultimate reality, as Basho discovered at the Old Pond.
To fail is no sin — the true wrong is not to try, then, sit and wonder. — Bashō no yōna, May 2025
First Thoughts
“If I fail, it is not a sin, the sin is not to try and wonder.”
Random stuff on relationships. Has Bashō no yōna gone off the track? I think not. Bashō’s spirit is kept alive, of observing nature and relationships. The twist, a modern introspection. 5–7–5 or close enough, cause nothing’s perfect.
Haikus
Separate journeys — sometimes paths will intertwine, sometimes they depart.
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Not just random chance— relationships have their way, kismet, fate — who knows.
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we were meant to be two burning stars, now spent — nothing is forever
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God, the universe — whatever your guide may be, always works for YOU.
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This is the way it ends, Not with regret, But tears and goodbyes.
Last thoughts
Inspired by William Shakespeare’s quote: “We are such stuff as dreams are made on and our lives are rounded by a little sleep.” Thank goodness, now that I’ve dreamt, I can rest.
May has come, May has gone, May it come again… — Bashō no yōna, 2024
The passage of time is persistent theme in Basho’s haiku. The prologue to his travelogue Oku no Hosomichi goes like this:
The Narrow Road to Northern Interior
Prologue “Days and months travel throughout eternity. So too are the years that pass. Those of us who steer a boat across the sea, or drive a horse over the earth till they succumb beneath the weight of years, spend every moment traveling throughout their lives. A great number of the ancients, died on the road (Way). For a long time I was tempted by the cloud-moving wind, filled with an irresistible wanderlust”. — Matsuo Basho, Prologue to Oku no Hosomichi
It was in the spring of 1689 that Matsuo Basho began his adventure. On the 27th of the third lunar month, not March according to the Gregorian calendar, but near May the 14th. Basho did not complete the book in his lifetime. He died in 1694 and publication of the book Oku no Hosomichi occurred some eight years later in 1704.
Since then, it has been read and read again.
It is now May 26, 2025, Memorial Day, a fitting day to remember May again.
Before he left Edo for the last time, Matsuo Basho’s disciple Shisan (子珊) gave him a going-away party.
紫陽草や薮を小庭の別座敷 ajisai ya yabu o koniwa no betsu zashiki
among the bushes and hydrangea — a little garden off the tatami room — Matsuo Basho, May, 1694
Ajisai
“Say it with flowers.” An advertising slogan by florists
Asked by the host to begin the festivities with a haiku, Basho wrote about hydrangea. In Japanese culture, the pretty blue, white, and pink flower is associated with the emotions of gratitude and apology. An emperor, the story goes, gave a blue hydrangeas to the family of the girl he loved as an apology for neglecting her and show how much he really cared for her.
After the party Matsuo Bashō left Edo for the last time, spending time in Ueno, the town where he was born, and Kyoto, where he had been a student, before heading to Osaka. In November, surrounded by friends and disciples, he passed away.
Matsuo Basho’s remains were then interred at the Gichū-ji a Buddhist temple in Ōtsu on the southern shore of Lake Biwa. Just to the north of Lake Biwa is quiet Lake Yogo which features thousands of hydrangea bushes.
Ajisai (hydrangea) ya . yabu (bush) o koniwa (small, little) no . betsu (extra, separate) zashiki (tatami room)
Zashiki (座敷) a tatami room, akin to a sitting room, a parlor, with woven tatami mats made of rush grass.
“It was early on the morning of the 27th day of the 3rd lunar month (March 27th) that I took to the road.“
Traveling by foot, by boat, by horse, Matsuo Basho and his traveling companion Sora made and epic journey along Japan’s “narrow roads into the back country” (奥の細道, Oku no hosomichi). Along the way, they visited shrines, saw historical battle sites, watched the moon and sun, observing, seeing friends, and making new acquaintances. The trip lasted five months, about 156 days and nights, a journey of almost 1,500 miles, ending at Ogaki where Basho’s friends rejoiced at seeing him again.
[Basho used the ancient Japanese lunar calendar as an occasional reference. In terms of the Gregorian calendar, Basho began in May, dates vary according to scholars from the 6th to the 27th. Let us split the difference and choose May 14th.]
Start
Edo, Adachi Bridge
End
Ogaki,
Start date
27th day of the 3rd lunar month, ca. May 14th
End date
ca. 6th day of the 9th lunar month, ca. October 17th
Average daily distance
10 miles
Distance
approx. 1,500 miles
Days and Nights
ca. 156 days and nights
The Beginning
So begins Matsuo Basho’s departure on his journey that was to be called, “Oku no Hosomichi.” Translated into English, the Journey into (Japan’s) Northern Interior. It was interior in name only, as, for most of the trip, Basho skirted the eastern and western shores of Japan’s Honsho island. The trip lasted some five months, beginning in March, according to the ancient Japanese calendar, and therefore ending in late July or August.
Prologue
Departure, Adachi Bridge. On the twenty-seventh day of the Third Month (May 14th, 1689).
Soka, from Adachi Bridge to the fish market at Soka was all Basho went. Five miles is all one can go, one gets used to walking, to carrying a backpack with needed things, and things given as gifts, things one hates to throw away, but should.
Muro no yashima, a Shinto shrine (now Ōmiwa Shrine) in Tochigi. Basho and Sora have traveled 60 miles in three days. The route takes them on a gentle incline.
Nikko, On the 30th day (May 17th), Climbed Mt. Nikko. At the inn where he stays, his host Honest Gozaemon (whose name means both “doorway” and “to protect”) told Basho “to sleep in perfect peace on his grass pillow.”
Nasu, Basho had intended to arrive in Kurobane where a friend lived, but on entering Togichi Prefecture (then still a province) and the district of Nasu, he and Sora found the way blocked by a an extensive grass field, and rain began to fall. They put up for the night at a farmhouse.
Kurobane, Basho’s friend was Joboji who looked after a large mansion. Basho and Sora lingered there several days, taking in the Hachiman Shrine, the tomb of Lady Tomano, and the Komyoji Temple.
Unganji
Sesshoseki
At the Barrier Gate
Shirakawa, at the Barrier Gate, the high point on the first leg of the trip at 900 meters. There is an 800 year old cedar tree here that dates to Basho’s trip.
Sukagawa, crossing the River Abukuma, Fukashima Prefecture.
Asaka, passing through Hiwada, staying at Fukashima. Roughly 160 miles from Edo (Tokyo). A steady climb the first half of the trip to roughly 900 meters high before
Shinobu
Satoshoji
Iizuka
KasajimaProvince, stopping at Iwanuma.
Takekuma no Matsu, and its famous pine tree, cut down before Noin Hoshi (988 – c. 1051) visited, then regrown.
The Eastern Coast
Sendai, crossing the River Natori. Basho has reached the eastern shore.
Tsubo no Ishibumi, a stone monument erected in 762 to commemorate the site of the ancient Taga castle in the village of Ichikawa. An inscription gives the distance to the ancient capital of Nara.
Shiogama, along the coast, north of Sendai. Basho is a little more than one month into his trip. He notes that it is May and the curfew bells are ringing as he enters the town.
Matsushima, from Shiogama, Basho has gone only 6 miles to Matsushima, famous for its pine trees that dot the shore line and cover many small islands.
Ishinomaki, Basho notes that he left on the 12th of May, heading back into the interior in the direction of Hiraizumi, but he lost his way and arrived instead at Ishinomaki. He stayed in a miserable house and suffered an uneasy night.
Hiraizumi, some 50 miles north and west from Matsushima, where three generations of of the Fujiwara clan passed away, snatched away, and now an empty dream.
Dewa Province (Dewagoe), Basho stayed at the village of Iwate. Basho now turns west.
Obanazawa, Basho stayed with a good friend and rested.
Ryushakuji, Yamagata Province. Basho detours to a temple south of Obanazawa.
The River Mogami and Detours
Oishida, Basho goes back north to Oishida on the River Mogami.
Mogamigawa, an exciting ride down the River Mogami heading west.
Hagurosan, it is the 3rd day of June, two months into the journey.
Gassan, Basho climbed Mt. Gassan on the 8th of June. Though it is summer, Basho must walk through the cold air and snow, “nearly frozen to death” he exclaims, but greeted by the sight of a cherry tree about to blossom. Nearby is Mt. Yudono.
The Western Coast
Sakata, leaving Gassan on the 9th of June, Basho proceeded to Tsuruoka. His route follows first the Bonji River and then the larger Aka River. The downhill distance is roughly 30 miles which one can easily cover in a day. [Note. Basho says that he boarded a boat and went down the Mogami River, arriving in Sakata.]
Kisagata, north of Sakata on Japan’s western shore. It is similar to Matsushima with its pine tree covered islands.
Heading South, Towards Home— July (August)
Echigo, it was a long walk of a hundred and thirty miles to the capital of the province of Kaga. Basho was by now ready to get home.
Ichiburi, another Barrier Gate.
Kanazawa, on July 15 (August 29th by the Western calendar), Basho and Sora walked into the city of Kanazawa. Here Basho and Sora are joined by Hoishi, a disciple of Basho’s.
Komatsu, it is less than 20 miles from Kanazawa to Komatsu. The walk is flat, along the coast, and in the afternoon one walks almost into the sun. Basho observed this in a haiku, “red, red is the sun, careless of time, the wind carries the hope of autumn’s cold wind.”
NataderaTemple, six miles, a two hour walk takes Basho to the Natadera Temple, a Buddhist temple built, it was said, to enshrine the goddess of Mercy, Kannon. She gives happiness but that happiness comes at a high price. The stop is brief, it is only another two hour walk to the hot springs of Yamanaka. Here Basho bathes in the mercy of the healing hot springs.
Parting is sweet sorrow. [August 5th (mid-September), according to Sora’s Diary.] Sora, however, is seized with a stomach ailment. He parts with Basho to Nagashima in Ise Province to seek help from relatives.
Not QuiteAlone
Daishoji, the spirit is willing, the body is weak, loneliness his only companion. It is only a two hour stretch downhill from Yamanaka to Daishoji and its Zenshoji Temple. Sora had preceded Basho here and left a note saying, “All night long, I listened to the autumn wind, as it howled on the hill.”
Maruoka, an old friend makes for good company at the the Tenryuji Temple in Matsuoka. Another friend (Hokushi) met on the way at Kanazawa departs. Then a short walk to Eiheiji Temple, the Temple of Eternal Peace standing among the tall cedars on the mountainside. The temple was founded by Zen Master Dōgen in 1244.
Fukui, Basho chose not to stay at Eiheiji, but after supper walk on three miles in the darkening evening to Fukui. There he found Tosai’s humble cottage on a back street, met his wife, a sad looking woman, and eventually, in town, found Tosai. Two nights with Tosai, then back on the road to Tsuruga, accompanied by Tosai.
Tsuruga, imposing Mt. Hina, crossing the bridge of Asamuza, among the famous reeds of Tamae, through the Barrier Gate of Uguisu, over pass of Yuno, are all along the way.
The 14th of July. It rained the night of the 15th.
After dinner with wine at an inn, Basho and his host went to the Myojin Shrine of Kei, built to honor the soul of the Emperor Chuai. Ironohama, on the 16th the weather was fine and as it was his last day in Tsuruga, Basho went by boat to the beach far out on the bay to pick up colored seashells at Ironohama (Irohama 色浜).
Ogaki, it is less than 50 miles to Ogaki from Tsuruga. It was near the beginning of the 9th lunar month (October by the Gregorian calendar, somewhere near the first week).
Basho is now back on familiar ground, as he is skirting the north shore of Lake Biwa. Moreover, Basho is joined by Rotsu, and the two make a triumphal march by horseback into the city of Ogaki. Sora, too returns. And “Etsujin, came on horseback, and we all went to the house of Joko, where I enjoyed reunion with Zensen, Keiko, and his sons and many other old friends of mine who came to see me day and night.”
[Sora’s Diary says the date was September 3.]
Three days later, on September the 6th (late-October), Basho left Ogaki for home, but what is home to a traveler? Is it Edo, Kyoto, or Ueno? Basho went to see the Ise Shrine. A boat would take him there.
Postscript
Basho would not complete his book. By early summer of the seventh year of Genroku (1694), Basho’s health was failing and he asked Soryu, a scholarly Buddhist priest, to complete the task. Basho had but a few more months to live, as he died in November, on his way back to Ueno, to Kyoto, near Lake Biwa, to his final home.
Oku no Hosomichi, as the book would become known was published in 1702.
Dates
Departure — 彌生も末の七日 Yayoi mo sue no nanoka, In the last seven days (last week) of Yaoyi (the third lunar month) BAsho and Sora departed from Adachi Bridge. This is equivalent to May 16th in the Gregorian calendar. The cherry blossoms are over, the high temperature is in the 70s, it is sunny and fair.
First stop, Soka. Basho and Sora covered a little more than seven miles the first day. Basho indicates the year: “In the second year of Genroku” (元禄二, Genroku ni), the period, meaning “original happiness,” spanned the years 1688 to 1704.
At Mt. Nikko, on the 30th day of the month (卅日). Basho stayed with an innkeeper with the unusual name of Buddha Gozaemon, 仏五左衛門.
You were a butterfly, And I Zhuangzi, — In my dream-like state
君や蝶我や荘子が夢心 kimi ya chō ware ya Sōji ga yume-gokoro — Matsuo Basho
[literal translation. kimi (you) ya (exclamation, wonder) chō (butterfly) ware (I or we) ya Sōji (Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi, Japanese Soichi) ga (still) yume-gokoro (dreamy-state, lit., in the heart of one’s dream)]
The Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi (4th c. BC, Japanese Soichi) once dreamed he was a butterfly, flitting and fluttering around, happy as could be. Then he awoke, but was he Zhuangzi and was it still a dream.
Men think. Men dream. Dogs think and dream. Butterflies go about their work happy as can be. But butterflies don’t sleep they say, but do they daydream?
Do butterflies dream, Of kale in Spring? — Bashō no yōna
Matsuo Basho does not strike me as much of a gardener. The plant he is most associated with is the banana (basho), but even this was the housewarming gift of a friend. Last fall I planted kale. By May it rises on tall stalks with tiny yellow flowers surrounded by white butterflies in the morning.
the more I look the more I see the face of God in a flower 猶みたし 花に明行 神の顔 nao mitashi hana ni ake yuku kami no kao — Matsuo Basho
Do flowers speak, I wonder …
where wildflowers grow man’s soul is fed and poets grow — Henry David Thoreau
Love like wildflowers is found in unlikely places — Ralph Waldo Emerson
Love need not be a a daisy or a rose …
Love is a flower you’ve got to let grow — John Lennon
Walking in the woods, spotting a tiny blue violet, under a log amid brown leaves …
the tiniest blue violet Nature’s answer to just a single mystery
A deeper, darker thought …
I wonder … As we gaze at flowers are we walking on the roof of hell 世の中は地獄の上の花見哉 yo no naka wa jigoku no ue no hanami kana — Kobayashi Issa 小林 一茶 (1763-1828)
A sad thought, I wonder …
after they have fallen will I remember a peony’s petals as a flower ちりて後 おもかげにたつ ぼたんかな chirite nochi omokage ni tatsu botan kana — Yosa no Buson 与謝 蕪村 (1716-1784)
the mundane and the last word …
Along the roadside my horse has eaten a hibiscus 道のべの木槿は馬にくはれけり michi no be no mukuge wa uma ni kuware keri — Matsuo Basho
My name is Matsuo Basho. I am thirty-six years old, and I live in a cottage by the river, south of the Edo, with a clear view of Mt. Fuji. I wasn’t always called Basho. Indeed, most of my life, I have been called Tosei, a peach, its flower having fallen, is now, waiting to ripen. Last winter, a friend came by. Humbly presenting me a housewarming gift, a banana plant. Like me, it survived the winter.
In growing a banana the first thing to hate the two leaves of the plant
ばしょう植ゑてまづ憎む荻の二葉哉 Bashō uete mazu nikumu ogi no futaba kana — Matsuo Basho, Spring 1681
Basho’s haiku indicates that it took a while for our thirty-six year old poet to get used to the idea of becoming a banana plant. This was, as he later explains, it is useless, producing no fruit. Later, he appreciated it for the shade it provided from the sun, and its resilience in a storm.
Daybreak, While the purple haze lingers on, Comes the call of the cuckoo
曙はまだ紫にほととぎす akebono wa / mada murasaki ni / hototogisu
Matsuo Basho, Otsu, Spring, 1680
April 1, Genroku, year 3, (1680) Otsu, on the southern shore of Lake Biwa, Age 36, Moving on
“For all of us, in Spring, to be thirty-something is a time to move on.” — Bashō no yōna, Spring, 2025
Basho explains. “I visited the “Genji no Ma” room at Ishiyama-dera Temple, (in Otsu), where Murasaki Shikibu is said to have written “The Tale of Genji.”
Akebono, meaning daybreak, or the dawn of a new era. The Tale of the Genji was just that, Japan’s and the world’s first novel. Written in the 11th century by the Imperial lady-in-waiting, Murasaki Shikibu. It is a tale of the emperor’s outcast son, Genji, and his romances.
The call of the cuckoo.
Hotogisu, cuckoo, appears as the subject in several of Basho’s haiku. In Japan, the cuckoo symbolizes the coming of summer. Life is moving on, Basho thought, and so must he.
1680, TheAwakening.
The year 1680 for Matsuo Basho was monumental. He was still living in Edo and going by the pen name, Tosei, meaning “unripe peach.” But Basho had decided to leave the hectic city for the rural life, moving out of Edo, and going south of the Sumida River to a simple cottage where he might work in relative peace and quiet. It was here that he would find his name — Basho, the fortuitous result of a gift, a banana tree (basho), given by a disciple, and planted next to the cottage. The banana, symbolizing for the poet, something that produced no fruit, but weathered the storms, and gave some shade to the weary.
matsuo-basho-haiku 