Tea or coffee. For Matsuo Basho, the morning drink was tea. For me it’s coffee.
Brown beans in a bag, Ground down very fine, Each drip divine
The smell, the steam, The sip as I first lift the cup, A religious rite — Bashō no yōna, 2025
It is tea time.
Matsuo Basho on drinking tea, or should we say “cha.” This haiku was written in 1691 at Shozui-ji Temple in Katata on Lake Biwa. The eccentric poet and Buddhist monk Ikkyu Sojun (1394–1481) trained here. Nearby deep green fields of tea blanket the fields.
朝茶飲む僧静かなり菊の花 Asa cha nomu sō shizukanari kiku no hana
While I drink my morning tea, The silent monk is serene, As a chrysanthemum in bloom. Matsuo Basho, 1691, age 44
A bonus Spring haiku. One written by Issa, first published in 1794.
茶の煙柳と共にそよぐ也 cha no kemuri yanagi to tomo ni soyogu nari
the steam of tea, the willow tree together sway as one
In mid-December, when the last of the Chrysanthemums have turned brown in my garden, there is nothing but radishes. And some chard and parsley, practical and utilitarian, nothing pretty. By the winter of 1692, Matsuo Basho was home. Edo was now his home, or at least Fukagawa, the rural neighborhood just south of Edo across the Sumida River. His cottage, the Basho-an (Banana hut), which had burned down the previous winter was rebuilt. Basho was living with his nephew Toin and Jutei, possibly Toin’s wife but we cannot be sure.
Toin was ill, and would die in 1693. Toin’s illness may or may not have inspired this haiku.
菊の後 大根の外更 になし kiku no ato/ daikon no hoka/ sara ni nashi
After chrysanthemums All that’s outside are White radishes
Matsuo Basho, Winter, 1692, 4th year of Genroku
If one prefers a Zen-like translation,
After Chrysanthemums Beyond white radishes — Nothing
Matsuo Basho, on radishes, 1692
daikon, 大根, white radish
Radishes, Daikon
Matsuo Basho had returned to Edo in the Winter of 1691, close to the end of his life, late 1694. Kiku, 菊, chrysanthemums loose their bloom in late November and are symbolic of long life.
Daikon, 大根, is a Japanese white radish. Avid winter gardeners know that when the last flower has faded, the hardy radish and some chard will linger on. Radishes “purify” the stomach, helping remove toxins in the body when eaten. Basho, who suffered stomach ailments through out his life would have relished or, at least tolerated, eating them.
Shi
Ni nashi, になし, nothing. I am not an expert on the Japanese language, but the sound “shi” can have multiple meanings including poem and death. Note to self. Don’t give your wife or girl friend four roses as the character for four, 四, sounds like “shi”.
I am not quite getting there, trying to translate Basho’s haiku. Maybe, that’s the point of it. Just sip one’s tea, be quiet as a monk, admire chrysanthemums that flower. Shizukanari! Laozi would agree.
朝茶飲む 僧静かなり 菊の花 Asa cha nomu / sō shizukanari / kiku no hana
Matsuo Basho
Three variations on Matsuo Basho’s Morning Tea:
A cup of morning tea Calms a monk Chrysanthemums are blooming
A monk sipping his morning tea, Calmly — Chrysanthemums are flowering
Drinking morning tea Calms a monk – Chrysanthemum
Chrysanthemum Tea, three times a day, Long life
Chrysanthemum tea Three time a day Long life
Chrysanthemum tea My friends and I Happy life
Bashōno yono
Chrysanthemum Tea
Chrysanthemum tea (菊茶, kiku-cha) is considered an elixir of life in Japan and much of Asia, enjoyed for the beauty of the flower’s blossoms, their earthy smell, and the taste of the tea. Each mum variety having its own special flavor. The recipe is simple, steep the flower petals (the leaves are too bitter) in hot water. Drink as a morning tea (朝茶, asa cha). Drink while hot. Morning tea and Green tea in general are soothing. Chrysanthemum tea, in particular, is used to calm chest pain, reduce high blood pressure, soften headaches, eliminate dizziness, and treat a host of other conditions.
In a word, Chrysanthemum tea is calming.
Basho suffered from various ailments throughout his life, including stomach ailments. So, it is not hard to imagine that he drank quite a lot of tea. And, after a hard days journey on the Oku No Hosomichi, one pictures Sora, Basho’s traveling companion, brewing tea while Basho is busy writing in his journal. One can also picture their visit to a temple, where a Buddhist monk (僧, Sō) might welcome his guests with tea.
Post Script
“Xin chào“ (“hello”) was the greeting we received in a friendly neighborhood cafe in Hanoi, Vietnam.
“Corona Tea!” was the drink we got when we asked for a pot of green tea and two cups.
My wife and I were there visiting our son in Hanoi in early 2020, at the start of the Coronavirus pandemic. The fear of Coronavirus was only beginning. At that time, it was only a general concern for good health, green tea being a good start.
The cafe’s setting, beside a small lake, was quiet. Lofty apartment buildings, like tall mountains, surrounded the lake, separating us from the din of a thousand motorcycles on the main streets. This made this tiny spot feel like a personal Shangri-La. That and the woman, the owner of the cafe, who smiled as she served us a steaming pot of green tea.
The tea kept us healthy, I like to think.
Madame, How do you say, Hello? — Xin chào, and green tea
in the eye of a white chrysanthemum there is not a speck of dust
gazing intently at a white chrysanthemum — and not a speck of dust
Matsuo Basho’s homage to the female poet, Shiba Sonome (斯波 園女).
November 1694
In 1694, Bashō left Edo (Tokyo) for one last trip south to his place of birth and to the Ise Shrine. Arriving in Osaka, where he had studied as a youth, he visited the poetess, Shiba Sonome, who was born in Ise, the daughter of a priest from the Ise Shrine, and later the wife of a doctor. Both Sonome and her husband had been students of Bashō. Later, after the death of her husband, she became well known for her poetry, her care for others, and her beauty.
Dust on Chrysanthemums, Kiku no Chiri, 菊の塵 was one of her published works.
Bashō did not live to make it to the Ise Shrine. Within a month, as the chrysanthemum flower began to fade, he died. The date, November 28, 1694.
Notes on translation
This haiku is often translated from the point of view of the poet gazing at the chrysanthemum. I prefer a more objective view. The eye of the white chrysanthemum exists without dust.
白菊, shiragiku, the first two characters of the haiku, translate as white chrysanthemum. 立, literally, to live, to exist, suggests, at least to me, the Zen idea that no dust exists in the eye of the chrysanthemum.
Drinking his morning tea calms the monk – Chrysanthemum
朝茶飲む 僧静かなり 菊の花
Asa cha nomu / sō shizukanari / kiku no hana
The Chrysanthemum
Matsuo Bashō (松尾 金作), Japan’s most famous poet of the Edo period, made the chrysanthemum the subject of several haiku. In Japanese the flower is called Kiku-no-hana, literally blossom of the chrysanthemum, or Kiku for short.
As early as the 5th century, it was imported from China into Japan by Buddhist monks, originally as medicine then becoming an object of beauty and admiration. Japanese royalty came to love the flower because they believed it had the power to prolong life. In 1183, the sixteen petal chrysanthemum became the imperial symbol. In November Chrysanthemum Festivals across Japan celebrate the many varieties of the late blooming flower.
As medicine, chrysanthemums are used to treat chest pains and high blood pressure, as well as fevers, colds, headaches, and dizziness.
The delicate petals are brewed into tea, which in our case calms the nervous monk in the morning.
matsuo-basho-haiku 