What!

What!

A Year End Surprise.

In May of 1689, Matsuo Basho made his well known five month long journey into Japan’s northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi). Before leaving he had expressed misgivings about such an adventure and even had forebodings of death. (“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”) But the trip came off without any major mishaps and Basho arrived near Kyoto, then. at year’s end, went to rest at Zeze 膳所, Ōtsu, on Lake Biwa, north of Kyoto.

Surprise, here was the crow, the symbol of death.

何にこの師走の市にゆく烏 
nani ni kono shiwasu no ichi ni yuku karasu

what is this?
December in the city market
— a crow

Matsuo Basho, age 46, at Zeze 膳所, Ōtsu, on Lake Biwa, north of Kyoto, Winter, 1689 元禄2年

A similar theme is found in ancient Babylonian texts. See W. Somerset Maugham’s retelling in The Appointment in Samarra. Crows made their appearance in Noh plays Basho attended.

The crow can be ubiquitous in major cities if garbage is left out. But Japan’s Edo period had no such problem. There was pretty much no garbage because anything that could be got recycled. Old paper, food, even human excrement was picked up by collectors and sold or reused.

Notes on Translation

Nani ni kono, what is this, what!

Shiwasu, the name for the lunar month of December.

Yuku, going, coming to

Karasu, a crow. Crows abound in ukiyo-e, Japanese woodblock art and Basho utilized the crow in several haiku. The crow can be a mark of rebirth, as it has historically cleaned up after battles consuming dead flesh. For the same reason, it can symbolize death. As anyone who has been in Bruges, Belgium knows, it can be a noisy messy bird in the mornings and evenings.

Be careful where you step and take your shoes off when you go home.

nani ni kono shiwasu no ichi ni yuku karasu

Image from the Edo Period collection of the Metropolitan Art, (public domain). Inrō with Crows on Tree in Moonlight (月下鴉蒔絵印籠)

A Crow Flies Away

A crow flies away in the setting sun
It is Winter,
A tree is shaking, I wonder

烏飛んで夕日に動く冬木かな

Haiku lives!

Haiku lives on. A good example is this poem by Natsume Soseki (夏目 漱石, 1867-1916), Japanese novelist and haiku poet.

He is best known for his novels Kokoro, Botchan, and Wagahai wa Neko dearu (I Am a Cat). But here he gives us a good follow up to Matsuo Basho’s autumn crow on a withered branch — a picture of man, a portent of doom. Basho and Crows. Soseki’s take is different.

It is winter, the crow has departed, the tree is shaking, Soseki wonders.

Do you get it, I wonder?

Dammit, Zen moments shouldn’t and can’t be explained.

A Crow Renku

Gentler readers, unencumbered, we shall fly about, but not like crows, coming and going, from tree to tree, but as travelers from time and place, from poet to poet. Such is the mystery and beauty of poetry.

Natsume Sōseki

Today’s guest poet is Natsume Sōseki (夏目 漱石, 1867 – 1916). His literary career did not begin until 1903 when he began to publish haiku and renku. He quickly went on to novels for which he is better known. That he was exploring the joy of haiku before 1906 comes from this haiku, written in 1896, probably while in Kumamoto, on the southern island of Kyushu .


a crow flies off
leaving
the winter tree shaking

からすとんでゆうひにうごくふゆきかな

Coming and Going

Surely, in composing his verse Soseki recalled to mind Matsuo Basho’s haiku, where a crow comes to perch. Soseki has the crow leaving, completing the renku.


on a bare branch
a crow has perched
in the autumn evening

kare eda ni karasu no tomarikeri aki no kure

枯朶に烏のとまりけり秋の暮

Having listened to both haiku, Bashō no yōna, tries to keep the renku going, adding:

from countless karasu
upon a withered tree –
a caw-caw-phony

Notes on Translation

Renku, 連句, “linked verses,” a Japanese form of collaborative linked verse poetry. Basho would often attend such party gatherings. Renku can also be informal and spontaneous.

Basho uses for crow. Soseki uses からす, karasu, から (kara, “caw”, imitating the crow’s caw, plus su. “bird”). Both mean crow.