Winter’s not over. Not yet. But somewhere the crocus are blooming and the snow has gathered on the leaves of the daffodil and the narcissus, bending them down. Someone once told me that is how one knows Spring is soon coming.
初雪や 水仙の葉のたわ むまで Hatsuyuki ya suisen no ha no tawa mu made
First snow, last snow, let me know — with AI, is anybody thinking for one’s self? My English rendering of Matsuo Basho’s haiku that keeps the figurative meaning if not literally so.
first snow, new year— just enough so its bending the daffodil leaves
— Matsuo Basho, 1686
Yes,, it is true that in Japanese, the word 水仙 (すいせん, suisen) can mean both daffodil and narcissus. I confess, I too am not sure of the difference and whether it matters.
Along Seven Mile Beach, north of George Town in the Grand Caymans, the Bouganvilliea bloom in December in all sorts of colors — orange, red, pink, magenta, purple, or gold.
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
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
Cherry BlossomsinEdo, Spring, 1681-2 Basho, age 37-38
In 17th century Edo, women’s fashions are changing.
Drunk on blossoms a woman in a haori, pointing with a sword
花に酔えり 羽織着て刀 さす女 Hana ni yoeri haori kite katana sasu onna Hana ni ee ri haori kite katana sasu onna
Matsuo Basho, Edo, 1681-2
Translation. Hana (flower, here meaning a cherry blossom) ni (particle to indicate cause) yoeri (to become drunk) haori (a short jacket, women wear over a kimono) kite (wearing) katana (sword) sasu (pointing, stabbing) onna (woman)
Cross-Dressing
Japan was unified under the Tokugawa clan. War was over. Peace was at hand. In Spring, the population turned its attention viewing cherry blossoms and getting sloshed on sake. What one wore was a sign of a person’s status and family background. The haori, a lightweight jacket, became casual wear for samurai warriors and popular attire for up and coming townspeople. Women adopted the style along with the men as it could be worn over a kimono.
But a woman carrying a sword would be quite the site.
Onna-Bugeisha, literally, “female who practices the Art of War.” The 3rd century Empress Jingū, was one of the earliest female warriors. It is likely that Matsuo Basho was familiar with the Tale of Heike which recounts the story of Tomoe Gozen, a female samurai who fought for the Minamoto clan. Basho wrote a haiku about the Genpei War between the Minamoto and the Taira clans.
Gabi Greve and the Japanese site Yamanashi date this haiku to when he was 38 to 40, first to third year of Tenwa, 1681 – 1683. A year before, Matsuo had moved from central Edo to the rural Fukagawa District to take up residence in a simple cottage. A house warming gift of a banana plant (basho) was planted by the front door, and Matsuo had the idea of a new name.
From Nozarashi Kikō, Summer of 1684, age 40, In the mountains of Yoshino, east of Osaka
The temple wife.No, her name is not Shirley.
Pounding cloth on the stone, monk, tell me surely, is this your temple wife?
砧 打ちて 我に聞かせよ 坊が妻 Kinuta uchite ware ni kikase yo bou ga tsuma
Matsuo Basho,
Notes on Translation. Kinuta (a stone on which to pound cloth) uchite (pounding) wareni (“ware” me plus “ni,” a particle for indirect object, “to me”) kikase (let me hear, tell me) yo (indicating emphasis or certainty) bou (monk) ga tsuma (wife)
Not PC
Not politically correct, but Basho’s attempt at humor. Like Henny Youngman’s “Take my wife, please.” I have added “surely” which is a homophone with Shirley, a girl’s name often used in American humor.
On the trail of Saiygo, the wandering 12th century Japanese monk. For a while, Saigyo lived as a hermit in the mountains of Yoshino, east of Osaka. Basho visitied Yoshino at least twice. First, during the summer of 1684 when he composed Nozarashi Kikō, and again after completing the ambitious Oku no Hosomichi in the autumn of 1689.
Beating the cloth to soften it, a Tao-like quote from Fujiwara no Masatsune’s 12th century poem in the Kokinshū (古今集, an anthology of early Japanese poetry of the waka style) that encompasses at least three senses, seeing, feeling, hearing:
“Looking at Yoshino, as the autumn wind is blowing and my hometown is getting colder, listening to the women beating on the clothes.”
Fujiwara no Masatsune, 12th century
Frank Watson has a translation of Fujiwara’s poem.
In Kyoto and elsewhere in Japan, it is Spring again. The daffodils are in full bloom, waving at a poet trying to capture the moment in words. It is 1668, two years since the death of Todo Yoshitada, young Matsuo’s samurai master. Matsuo is not yet Basho. He is still Matsuo Kinsaku, age 24, living in Kyoto, wishing and hoping.
Spring flowers laughing in the wind wishing and hoping
春風に吹き出し笑ふ花もがな haru kaze ni fukidashi warau hana mogana
Matsuo Kinsaku (Basho) Spring, 1668
Mogana
Mogana — “wouldn’t it be nice if, if only, here’s hoping, wishing, wishing and hoping” are some of the meanings of mogana — the poet’s hope or desire for a beautiful spring.
Since Burt Bacharach died this year at the age of 93, I think it appropriate to mention his song, Wishin’ and Hopin’, first released in 1962. There are at least two great renditions, in 1962 by Dionne Warwick, the other by Dusty Springfield in 1964. Interestingly, Dusty’s Italian recording became “Stupido, Stupido.” It seems”desiderare e sperare” didn’t resonate well with the amorous Italians.
Wishin’ and hopin’ — to find love, hold him then kisses will start
RIP, Burt Bacharach, 1928-2023
Meanwhile
Meanwhile in the world, King Charles II was back on the throne in England. France’s King Louis XIV and Spain’s King Charles II were fighting over the Netherlands. Japan was at peace under the rule of Tokugawa Ietsuna.
Notes on Translation
haru kazeni (in a Spring wind or breeze) fukidashi warau (blowing and laughing) hana (flowers) mogana (indicates hope or desire, i.e. Basho wishes the flowers were laughing in the wind).
Haru kaze 春風 — A Spring breeze is associated with many things including happiness and joy, a smiling face.
Fuki 吹き, blowing or boasting; dashi 出しbroth. I inagine flowers waving in the breeze to and fro like a bubbling broth.
The candy’s gone. A little sadness, some melancholy, descends on one the day after Halloween night. A beautiful moonlit evening, houses decorated gaily, neighbors wondering if they have enough candy, kids in costumes, smiling, politely asking for candy.
“Trick or treat.”
But night turns into day
The parents safely tucked the younger children in bed by eight. The older children walked the streets til late. Now, they are back in school, or they slept in, suffering from a tummy ache.
The falling leaves, a moonlit night, costumed kids, all so polite, “trick or treat” its so much fun, until the candy’s gone — Halloween
Bashō no yōna, 2022
Saigyo
The 12th century poet Saigyō Hōshi (西行法師) wrote this short poem after a fruitless day of cherry blossom viewing and hazy night and moon watching. In the best Buddhist tradition, turning a negative thought into one that is positive. Teaching us that on the morning after Halloween, sadness can be sweet.
花散らで月は曇らぬ世なりせば物を思はぬわが身ならまし hana chirade / tsuki wa kumoran / yo nariseba / mono o omowan / waga mi naramashi
西行, Saigyo
Were it not for falling blossoms and a cloudy moon, in such a world I could not feel this sadness
Eine Welt ohne Zerstreuen von Blüten und ohne Bewölken des Mondes, würde mich meiner Melancholie berauben
le monde sans fleurs qui tombent et une lune assombrie vole moi ma mélancolie
A morning walk beside the creek A heavenly breeze, the rising sun Here comes the heat!
Bashō no yōna, August 2022
On the Today show, Al Roker points to a map covered in RED on the weather map. Record Heat. The days and weeks are full of sun, it’s been months since it was cool. An early morning walk with the dogs inspires Bashō no yōna’s poor attempt at haiku.
Winter 1693-94
Now, two haiku by Matsuo Basho written in early 1694. The subject, the early blooming Plum Blossom. A literary respite from the summer heat.
Fragrant plumfills the air And the rising sun on A mountain path!
梅が香にのつと日の出る山路かな ume ga ka ni notto hi no deru yamaji kana
Plum Blossom Scent, (Ume ga Ka, 梅が香), Spring 1694
Was the snow still falling? Was it bitterly cold? Did the birds sing when the sun rose?
Note. In the early spring of Matsuo Basho’s last year, he and Shida Yaba 志太野坡 composed a haiku sequence (renga) that came to be called Ume ga Ka (Plum Blossom Scent). Ume, 梅 (plum), the five petals symbolize the Five Blessings: old age, wealth, health, virtue, and a peaceful death.
梅が香に昔の一字あはれなり ume ga ka ni mukashi no ichiji aware nari
The fragrant plum, The days of old, That nothing last — ’tis a pity.
Matsuo Basho, February 1694
Note. This second haiku addressed to his student Baigan 梅丸 who had recently lost his son. Ume ga ka, the fragrant plum. Ni, a participle indicating movement or direction. Mukashi, the days of old, the past. No, acts as an indicator of possession. Ichiji. a reference to life’s impermanence. Aware, a pity, something that’s sad. Nari indicates that the emotion follows quickly.
A plum blossom fades all too soon, and so does life. Matsuo Basho died later that year.
He and she, she and he. Many haiku artists took up where Matsuo Basho left off with his death in 1694. One such artist was the Lady Kaga no Chiyo (Chiyo-ni, 1703 – 1775). She had taken up writing at the age of seven and was well-known by the time she was a teenager. Basho’s influence comes from the fact that she studied under two of Basho’s apprentices, but as seen in the following haiku, she spoke in her own unique voice.
Morning Glories Entwined in the bucket at the well So, I beg for water
Matsuo Basho, cooking his morning breakfast, observes:
Morning Glories, While cooking rice Am I a man, (I wonder)?
A moment in time
In a world of things, we strive to express our joy and wonderment in Nature’s beauty. Making his breakfast, Matsuo Basho watching the morning glory unfurl to catch the morning sun. Similarly, Chiyo-ni going to fetch water, finds that overnight the morning glory has wrapped its tendrils into the handle.
A word, a couplet, a line, a thought, nothing can compare with the actual moment in time for Nature’s beauty remains supreme.
Western translators have tried to fill out the meaning of the haiku adding words that were perhaps implied but not written. Dr. Gabi Greve, of the Daruma Museum, Japan, has given us many variations of Chiyo-ni’s haiku, adding neighbor to explain her solution to Chiyo-ni’s dilemma. While the English poet Edwin Arnold has expanded the original thought greatly:
The morning-glory Her leaves and bells has bound My bucket handle round. I could not break the bands Of these soft hands. The bucket and the well to her left, ‘Let me some water, for I come bereft.
This, I believe, has changed the game, for haiku was and is a game. The only rule being that the poet must express his or her thought in three lines of five, seven, and five syllables, features an image, or a pair of images, expressing the essence of a moment in time.
Morning Glories, Suzuki Kiitsu (1796–1858)
Notes on Translation
Both poets use the flower name 朝顔, asagao, literally morning face.
It is a flower of the fields and and hedge rows, often entwined with briars and along a fence or gate. The flower was brought to Japan with the advent of Buddhism. The tiny blue or purple flower that bloomed each morning represented enlightenment.
Sen no Rikyū, the 16th century tea master, is said to have grown gorgeous morning glories in the garden by his teahouse. Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1537 – 1598), Japan’s “Great Unifier,” sought an invitation to tea so that he could see the flowers.
釣瓶,tsurube, a bucket for drawing water at a well.
貰い水, morai mizu, literally, received I water – 貰 morai, can also suggest a tip or beneficence . 水 mizu, water. This leaves us with the impression that Chiyo must go and beg for water, i.e. “receiving water as a gift”.
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