Tag: French

Loneliness by Saiygo

snowy trail

As Matsuo Basho found inspiration in the writings of the Buddhist monk Saiygo, who wrote, “one must master loneliness.”

“If not for loneliness,
in this mountain village,
where no one comes to visit,
it would be hard to live here.”

とふ人も
tou hito mo
思ひ絶えたる
omotaetaru
山里の
yamazato no
さびしさなくば
sabishisa nakuba
住み憂からまし
sumiukaramashi

Matsuo Basho’s take on winter’s lonliness:

Winter will wither,
The world to one color,
One hears the sound of wind.

When winter has withered (the leaves)
And the world is one color,
One hears the sound of wind.

冬枯れ や .  世は一色に . 風の音
Fuyu gare ya . yo wa hito iro isshoku ni . kaze no oto

Playing with language.

Crudo invierno
(El invierno se marchitará)
El mundo de un solo color
Y el sonido del viento
.
l’hiver a fané (les feuilles)
et que le monde est d’une seule couleur,
on entend le bruit du vent.
.
Wenn der Winter verwelkt hat,
und die Welt ist nur einzige Farbe,
hört man das Geräusch des Windes.
— Spanish, French, and German

Winter comes, but so does Spring. And Spring brings the desire to travel.

“The days and months are eternal travelers. So too are the passing years. Those who steer a boat across the sea, or drive a horse over the earth must endure the weight of years, spend every minute of their lives on the road. A great number of ancients died on the road. I myself have been tempted for a long time by the cloud-moving wind — filled with a strong desire to wander. And wander I must. Alone…”

Matsuo Basho, Introduction to Oku no Hosomichi (paraphrased)

l’hiver a fané (les feuilles)
et que le monde est d’une seule couleur,
on entend le bruit du vent.

Summer Snow

On holy Mt Haguro, the wind speaks of scented snow.

Genroku 2, June 3, 1689 (July 19 by the solar calendar)
Age 45, Basho climbs Mt. Haguro at Dewa Sanzan
From Oku no Hosomichi

thank you,
for the sweet smell of snow
and the voice of the wind

有難や雪を薫らす風の音
arigata ya / yuki o kaorasu / kaze no oto

Matsuo Basho, Summer, 1689

French

merci,
pour la neige parfumée
et la douce voix du vent

Matsuo Basho, Summer, 1689

Traveling in the Cool Mountains

Well into their journey into Japan’s northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi), Matsuo Basho and Sora are, by now, conditioned travelers . Having come down the rapid Mogami River by boat, they meet Kondo Sakichi (haiku name “Rogan”), and he takes Basho and Sora up the cedar covered mountain to the temple of Haguro-san.

Later at a poetry recitation, Basho thanks his host for the excursion.

Notes on Translation. arigata (thank you) ya (exclamation “!”) yuki (snow) o (a particle indicating a sigh) kaorasu (scented, fragrant in a smoky way) kaze no oto (sound of the wind, voice of the wind)

Dewa Sanzan, 出羽三山, the “three (sacred) mountains of Dewa” in mountainous Yamagata Prefecture.

Bashō no yōna

In the western states of Colorado, Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico the snow stays on the lower mountains well into June, and the 14ers are snow capped all year round. In Utah, one goes from Moab where it is a short drive to Arches National Park and Canyonland, then on to Bryce and Capito Reef, then down the Grand Staircase-Escalante to Zion. The Grand Canyon’s North Rim is closed until the middle of June because of snow. It is a long drive through arrid northern Arizona to the South Rim and the spectacular Grand Canyon.

Miles of Nothing
Until Something,
Spectacular!
— Grand Canyon’s South Rim

Bashō no yōna, late Spring, 2023

The melting snow formed the Grand Canyon over millions of years. One can also enjoy several Colorado waterfalls including misty Thunder Falls and its ever-present rainbow, and the hidden gem of Zapata Falls with its blue ice near the Great Sand Dunes.

Winter’s blanket
Melting snow and raging rivers
— Summer’s hot and cool

Bashō no yōna, late Spring, 2023
South Rim, Grand Canyon

Clip Clop

Tenwa, 3rd year, Summer
1685, Age 41

In late 1684, Matsuo Basho left Edo to once again travel alone on the highways connecting the capital and Kyoto. Along the way he rethought his haiku style and reflected on life. In 1685, as summer ended, he made his way home back to Edo.

A horse, peaceful and quiet
(boku, boku, clip clop)
Oh, I see myself
In a summer field!

馬ぼくぼく/ 我を絵に見る/ 夏野かな
Uma boku boku ga o e ni miru natsuno kana

Matsuo Basho, Summer, 1685

French

Un cheval, calme et tranquille (clic clac)
Oh, je me vois
Une image sur le champ d’été !

Meanwhile in Europe

René Descartes (1596–1650), French mathematician and philosopher, is inquiring into the difference between perception and reality. “Cogito ergo sum,” he concluded, all that I can know is that I think, therefore I am. Basho is one step removed. “Learn about pine trees from the pine, and about bamboo from the bamboo.”

Is Basho now thinking he is the horse, or the rider, peacefully walking through a summer field?

Once in Montmartre

Present day, more or less, remembering.

Either way, Basho is “going to the balcony,” (the painting), a mental attitude of detachment where one can calmly see what is happening.

Years ago, it seems like yesterday, I was with an artist friend in Montmartre, Paris’ artist village that sits on top of a hill. Five French artists were lined up with their subjects in front of a cafe where my friend and drank beer and watched. One artist, the best, would occasionally look away and shake his head before turning back to the canvas. When I asked my friend why he did this, he explained that the artist was removing his preconceived notions from his head, detaching himself from the scene and painting what was there and not what he perceived.

Matsuo Basho riding a horse by Sugiyama Sanpū 杉山杉風 (1647-1732)

Notes on Translation

Uma (horse) boku boku (boku meaning “I” or “me” in a humble way, boku boku, onomatopoeic, the sound of walking), ga (“I”, “myself”) o (“o” separating Basho from the action of riding the horse) e (picture) ni (at) miru (look, looking, watching) natsu (summer) no (field) kana (particle indicating both doubt and exclamation, “oh my”)

Sugiyama Sanpū (1647-1732) was a wealthy fish merchant in Edo and life-long patron of Matsuo Basho. He provide Basho with the Bashoan (banana) cottage in Fukagawa, Edo. Sanpu was present when Basho and Sora set off on the trip that was to become Oku no Hosomichi (1689). Basho referenced Sanpu, saying “the eyes of a fish (meaning Sanpu) are full of tears.”

Wild Abandon

June, 1687

It is June 21. Summer has arrived and everything has changed, or has it? Matsuo Basho is out for a walk, alone, with paper and pen, composing, on a warm day, when suddenly he is startled by a frog jumping into an old familiar pond.

“Poems are never completed — they are abandoned.”

Paul Valery, La Nouvelle Revue Française, 1933

That is close to the truth of what Valery said, but not exactly. Exactly said, it is this: “Aux yeux de ces amateurs d’inquiétude et de perfection, un ouvrage n’est jamais achevé, – mot qui pour eux n’a aucun sens, – mais abandonné.”

In English, it becomes: “In the eyes of these lovers of restlessness and perfection, a work is never finished – a word which for them has no meaning – but abandoned.” As Valery was discussing his poem The Cemetery by the Sea, work becomes “poems”.

Even that, dear friends, is not exact, for Valery goes on to add other words by way of explanation. That is, he adds context. Context is the setting, time, mood, age, feeling, something that clarifies its meaning.

Let us take Matsuo Basho’s well known frog haiku:

Furu ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto

古池や蛙飛こむ水のおと

Old pond — frogs jumps in — sound of water

Matsuo Basho, Jōkyō 3, 1687, age 43

Does it matter if the pond is large or small, covered in lily pads or algae, the frog is startled, that the frog was croaking, that Basho is startled, that he was walking or sitting, thinking, talking, the sound is splash or kerplunk?

The frog disappears. Is this a spiritual transformation? kawasu — 換える, 替える, 代える, are verbs meaning “exchange” or “substitute”. Suddenly, we are on a metaphysical plain.

What if we think or the haiku as a question: What is the sound of water? Of course, it is many things, the sound of waves on the shore, or a mountain stream that flows upon the rocks. What if we ask a small child?

To a frog, she thunk — “kerplunk.”

Thus, to the enlightend Buddhist monk and the delighted little girl, Basho’s haiku is this:

An old pond, the frog that jumps becomes, the sound of water.

Matsuo Basho, revised haiku

Let us write with wild abandon, get lost in thought, never done.

Basho no yona, Summer 2023
An old pond, a frog jumps, the sound of water. To a little girl, she thunk — kerplunk.