Winter Wind

A cold wind blows, it snows and snows. Winter, 1690, Genroku, 3rd year. Matsuo Basho had completed the long journey, that would one day become known as Oku no Hosomichi, but he had not yet returned to Edo. The end is near.

Ah, the bitter winter wind,
my face, my swollen cheeks
are painful

こがらしや .　頬腫痛む .　人の顔
Kogarashi ya . hoobare itamu . hito no kao
— Matsuo Basho, Winter 1690

The order of the haiku was reversed to make sense. Hito no kao, the human face. Hoobare itamu, swollen cheeks are painful. Some pundits suggest that there was a mumps epidemic. I suggest, as anyone would know, who walks in the bitter wind, the cheeks were simply red and puffy.

**A winter’s journey on horseback**, Hiroshige, source Wikipedia

Spring 1688

March 21, 2025
In the Flint Hills of Kansas

In 1688 Matuso Basho left Edo to travel to Ueno to celebrate the Lunar New Year. On the way, on January 13, in 5th year of the Jokyo era, 1688, Basho composed this haiku, wondering, I suppose, when Spring would truly come.

Spring, has it arrived,
It is only the ninth day
In the mountains and countryside, one wonders
春たちて　まだ九日の　野山哉
Haru-tachite mada kokonoka no noyama Kana
— Matsuo Basho, Spring? 1688

I just checked.
In Tokyo today and tomorrow,
It is a sunny 72.

Meanwhile in Kansas

Here in the Flint Hills of Kansas, it is March 21st, the official first day of Spring. When one walks in the woods, one sees the first hint of green. The daffodils bloom. Magically, the other day leaves began to appear on the trees and plants began to sprout. Still, the cold and warn winds continued to battle, but we know who is going to win this battle.

As for practical gardener,
have patience,
follow the Dao …

Speaking of wind whose cold gusts blow night and day …

Oh the wicked wind that blows,
Like a boxer’s swift fists,
Battering my head
— Bashō no yōna

I had hoped to go to Teter Rock,
to see the wild mustangs,
oh, the wind held me back.

Cree-ack

“Cree-ack” said the wind.

I have two rescue dogs (a bonded pair I call Lucy and Desi) who love to go out the kitchen door and come back in all day. Occasionally, I leave it ajar so they can go out and in on their own. If it is not wide enough, they will sit and stare, for they haven’t learned how to push. Then, to their amazement, there is a “creeack” as the wind opens it wide.

An open door policy is an invitation to flies, as my wife says.

“Cree-ack”
was the sound of the wind
as it opened the kitchen door

“Whizz” go the flies
who furiously flee
the swat of the swatter
— Bashō no yōna, Spring 2024

Nature’s Sound

“Cree-ack” is a high pitched sound like chalk on a chalkboard. It startles.

Matsuo Basho was captivated by the sounds of Nature. There is the familiar sound of the wind in the trees, the joyful sound of the birds in spring, and the cuckoo that always reminded him of Kyoto (a Proustian moment). Then too there was the famous sound of the water as the frog jumped in the pond — “kerplunk.”

Wintry Wind

rider on horseback in the snow, hiroshige

Go, says Laozi

Laozi, the kindly Old Master, said “Go!”

So I went for a walk in the woods in December. And what did I get, for following such advice? No, not some peace of mind? But a cheek swelling ache on my frozen face from the wind that blows in December.

A Withering Wind,
A Cheek swelling Ache,
On a Strange man’s Face
Matsuo Basho, Autumn, 1690

I confess I have been outdone. A better translation can be found. From a collection of Winter haikus by Basho, Buson, and Issa, gathered up in a nice little package like a Christmas gift from Chris Kincaid. ‘Wintry Wind’ was his title. ‘Withering Wind’ is more along the lines of what Basho was thinking, but a month can make a difference. Check it out.

Yes, you noticed. This is an autumn haiku. Yes, the cold wind blows in Autumn, the withering kind that causes the leaves to fall. But you see, it is now December, and its worse, for the trees are bare, and it’s my face, and not that of the stranger I see, that is frozen.

Original Japanese

こがらしや　頬腫痛む　人の顔
kogarashi ya hoobare itamu hito no kao
Matsuo Basho, Autumn, Winter 1690

kogarashi (a leaf withering wind) ya (exclamation) hoobare (swollen cheeks) itamu (it hurts) hito no kao (a person’s face)

Bob Van Huss

In memory of my father-in-law, Robert (Bob) Van Huss, who liked to say, “It gets darn cold when the North Wind blows.” That wind is not a gentle kiss. With all its might, it socks you in the nose.

A Windy Day

Spring 1688

It was a very good year, one might say for Matsuo Basho. He was happily living in Edo at his Basho hut, named for the banana tree outside. He is a respected haiku poet and a teacher of his style of poetry to a select group of disciples. When the spirit moves him, he makes an occasional foray along the the Tokaido and Nakasendo trails to and from Kyoto, and to his home in Ueno. He is also in the midst of planning a longer trip into Japan’s northern interior that would become famous as Oku no Hosomichi.

The Spring wind is howling
while I’m bursting with laughter
— wishing for flowers

春風に吹き出し笑ふ花もがな
haru kaze ni fukidashi warau hana mogana
Matsuo Basho, Spring, 1668

Notes: haru (spring) kaze (wind) ni (on) fukidashi (today, this translates as speech bubble; fu 吹, to blow, to brag; kiき, tree; dashi appears to mean to put something out, like a kite or banner); warau (laugh or smile); hana (flower) mogana (wishing for)

Thoughts from the Midwest on the last day of March — the wind is still howling, driving me crazy.

The wind howls at the trees
Will it stay,
Better yet, will it stop?
Bashō no yōna, March 31, 2023

Something old, something borrowed:

March winds and April showers
bring May flowers
and June bugs
An old standard

Slightly altered, Nature becomes our nemesis:

March winds, April showers,
then heavy rains
and mosquitoes
Bashō no yōna, March 2023