New Year’s Eve, from dusk til dawn, Sake anyone? — Bashō no yōna, 2025
Eat drink and be merry, but there is hell to pay for a little buzz.
Like floating flowers My sake is white, My rice is black 花にうき世我が酒白く飯黒し hana ni ukiyo waga sake shiroku meshi kuroshi . Cherry blossoms falling Sneaking sips of sake Behind a fan 扇にて酒くむ陰や散る桜 ōgi nite sake kumu kage ya chiru sakura . After drinking the sake The bottle becomes A flower vase 呑明て花生となる二升樽 nomi akete hana-ike ni sen nishoodaru . May swallows dance but let not mud drop in my sake cup 盃に泥な落しそ舞ふ燕 盃に泥な落しそ 村ツバメ sakazuki nidoro na otoshi so muratsubame . when I drink sake no longer can I sleep this snowy night 酒飲めばいとど寝られぬ夜の雪 sake nomeba itodo nerarenu yoru no yuki — Matsuo Basho, sake haiku
I confess to liking the last haiku the best. Or maybe it is just that it resonates with me.
The more we drink, the less we sleep nomeba itodo nerarenu
It is said to have been written in the first year of the Jokyo Era (貞享), 1684. A compilation of poems including Basho’s had been published called Shriveled Chestnuts. And Basho was on the road on the Five Highways on the first of his four major wanderings.
Snow upon snow Tonight, the last month is December Is there a full moon or not?
雪と雪 . 今宵師走の . 名月か Yuki to yuki . Koyoi shiwasu no . Meigetsu ya — Matsuo Basho
Version Two, when there is a glimmer of hope.
Snow upon snow Tonight, the last month Is there a sliver of a moon or not?
The Moon月
It has been said that this haiku was written to settle a disagreement between two individuals (snow upon snow), each part frozen and unwilling to compromise. The moon was supposed to mediate the differences, but the cloudy weather and the snow got in the way. Tsuki is any moon. Meigtsu, refers to a full moon. A sliver of a moon (mikazuki) seems appropriate if we are trying to patch up differences.
雪と雪 . 今宵師走の . 名月か Yuki to yuki . Koyoi shiwasu no . Meigetsu ya image, Wikipedia
Let us join Matsuo Basho in Edo. The year is 1683. Perhaps we are at Basho’s humble thatched cottage. More likely we are at the home of a friend as Basho’s haiku suggest he was not much of a cook. Perhaps it is late in the year, a holiday, a sumptuous feast, then desert.
After a meal watch TV, then nap — Thanksgiving
A meal is not complete until desert is served. A sweet rice cake called kusa mochi qwrapped in mugwort leaves.
Pale green, hey — an ear protruding from the kusa mochi cake.
青ざしや草餅の穂に出でつらん aozashi ya kusa mochi no ho ni ide tsuran — Matsuo Basho, 1683, age 40
青ざし (aozashi), pale green, the color of young plants or new leaves.
や (ya), used to convey emphasis.
草餅 (kusa mochi), a sweet Japanese rice cake made with mugwort (yomogi) leaves, a tall green herb. The mugwort is a digestive aide. Basho suffered stomach problems for much of his life.
に (ni), meaning “on”; 穂 (ho), literally “ear” as in the protruding spikes of the mugwort stalk.
出でつらん (ide tsuran), something that has “emerged” or “come forth.”
青ざしや草餅の穂に出でつらん aozashi ya kusa mochi no ho ni ide tsuran
Lake Biwa at night plucking the shamisen the pounding hail — Matsuo Basho, Fall, 1684
Lake Biwa / at night, the three string shamisen / sounding (like) the sound of hail 琵琶湖の / 夜や三味線の / 音あられ Biwakō no / yo ya shamisen no / oto arare
Did he like it?
In the first year of the Jōkyō (1684), on the journey of Nozarashi Kiko, in Ogaki, near the waters of Lake Biwa, at a gathering at Nyogyō’s house, Nyogyō was invited to play a Japanese shamisen. (Background Source: Yamanashi-ken)
(Shamisen三味線, a three string instrument that sounds something like a banjo.)
琵琶湖の / 夜や三味線の / 音あられ Biwakō no / yo ya shamisen no / oto arare
Shigure! be it rain or drizzle, it’s bordering on freezing. — Bashō no yōna, September 2025
In late autumn of the second year of Genroku, September 1690, Basho’s disciples (蕉門 shomon) gathered at an inn or tea house (亭te) in Iga Ueno. As everyone waited for the hot tea, they shuffled their feet and rubbed their hands in the chilly inn, Basho remarked:
to everyone and even the inn, the Autumn drizzle is freezing
人々を . しぐれよ宿は . 寒くとも Hitobito wo . Shigureyo yado wa . Samuku tomo — Matsuo Basho, September 1690
Note. Basho had been gone from Edo now for a year. He had completed the long journey into the northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi) in the summer of 1689. He was now spending time traveling around editing his magnum opus, which would not be published until after his death.
The famous Mariko teahouse by Utagawa Hiroshige, Wikipedia
By the summer of 1694, Basho was not feeling well and he knew the end was near. As if to sum up his life, he wrote this haiku.
making my way in life, in a small rice patch, back and forth . 世を旅に代かく小田の行戻り yo o tabi ni shiro kaku oda no yuki modori — Matsuo Basho, late summer, 1694
As you like it:
traveling this world, a lifetime working a rice patch, back and forth — Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho while walking, Summer 2025
世を旅に
Yo o tabi ni
making my way in life,
代かく小田の
shiro kaku oda no
in a small rice patch
行戻り
yuki modori
back and forth
Back and forth, Sowing and reaping, Seeking answers never found. — Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on the Dao, 2025
Japan’s rainy season is called “tsuyu” 梅雨. It occurs in June and July. Because the plum ripens at this time, the rainy season is also”meiyu” 梅雨. Basho is refering to the fact that sometimes the plums collect mildew and turn sour. The Ume fruit, or plum, is a popular summer fruit. and the riper it gets, the more sour.
Written in Kyoto, in the 7th year of the Kanbun era (1667), when the artist was 24 years old.
Ah, the sound of rain falling — to the ears, it sounds sour as it rains, the plum ripens
降る音や耳も酸うなる梅の雨 Furu oto ya mimi mo san unaru ume no ame — the poet who one day become Matsuo Basho, 1667
The poet, then known as Tosei 桃青, meaning green peach.
On May 27th, 1689, Matsuo Basho and his companion Kawai Sora set off on a journey north into Japan interior, then to the coast at Matsushima, and back again across the interior to Sakata, from there south and west along the coast to Osaka.
By July 13th, two months in, the pair had past Matsushima, and reached Yamadera (it translates simply to “mountain temple”) and its mountain Buddhist retreat Risshakuji. To reach the top, Basho must climb the 1,015 stone steps to Okunoin Temple. The noisy village was far behind. The mountain air was clear. His lungs were struggling to keep up. Then, as he gazed out on the valley …
Tranquility …, then, the cicada’s speaks deep within the rocks shizukasa ya . iwa ni shimiiru . semi no koe 閑けさや 岩にしみいる 蝉の声 — Matsuo Basho, Oku no Hosomichi, July 1689
Tranquility
shizukasa (閑けさ), tranquility, a state of peace and tranquility. This is often translated as “silence.” Take a walk along a creek or on a trail that leads up a mountain side. Then, half way there, when it is utterly quiet, you decide.
It is strange, to think that no matter how hard one thinks, one will never know what the cicada thinks. And that, one supposes, is the point of it.
Don’t try so hard.
Risshakuji is known as a Zen Buddhist retreat. Zen focuses on meditation as the key to understanding nature, and awakening one’s inner wisdom. I would say stress, but stress has too many contradictory connotations. In Zen, one must stay calm, relax.
sigh, this summer grass is all that remains — a mighty samurai’s dreams . natsukusa ya tsuwamono domo ga yume no ato. 夏草や兵共がゆめの跡
Hiraizumi, Iwate prefecture Summer 1689
Like swallows, like the stork, like the Monarch butterfly, in summer, man migrates from home to vacation and suffer the heat. Matsuo Basho did not invent summer travel in Japan, but he did popularize it. His travelogues, a combination of haiku and commentary on local scenes were published during and after his lifetime. Highways were built.* Way stations were maintained and rest-stops and inns were conveniently located at distances of 20 miles apart.
Along the Oku no Hosomichi, Basho’s journey into Japan’s northern interior in the summer of 1689.
At Hiraizumi, the northernmost point on Basho’s journey that one day would be called Oku no Hosomichi, Basho detoured to the land where the Oshu Fujiwara clan prospered for three generations in the late Heian period (Heian, meaning peace, 794 to 1185).
Here, Minamoto no Yoshitsune, the third generation of the powerful Minamoto clan, fled fleeing the fickle emperor for whom he had gallantly fought but now was condemned. Far to the north, surrounded by mountains, to Hiraizumi he fled. Given refuge, he lived in peace, until the death of his protector whose son betrayed vilely him. In a final battle, Yoshitsune met his end.
Standing on the hill, in the midst of the dying summer grass, there Yoshitsune’s forces fought to the last man.
What do you think?
Grass as a metaphor for a dead warrior
Basho’s thoughts: “Three generations of glory of the Fujiwara clan vanished like a dream; the hills and rivers remain unchanged, as they were in the past.” How Dao, death comes to us all, and Nature reclaims everything, in the passage of time, restoring what is to the way it once was.
“Cry out,” a voice said, And said I, “What shall I cry?” “Our flesh is like grass, its beauty like the flower of the field… The grass withers, the flower fades.” Isaiah, 40:6–8
“I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.” Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, 1855
Note. Five Routes established by the Tokugawa shogunate. The Nakasendo and Tokaido were the most popular. Both connected Edo and Kyoto, the Nakasendo through the mountains, Tokaido along the coast. The Japanese artist Utagawa Hiroshige immortalized the “55 Stations of the Tokaido” in print.
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