Exploring Yamaguta

I Wish it Would Rain
May 2026

Here in Middle America on the Great Plains, the rains fall sporadically. A farmer who plants his crops prays for rain. And the nearby Arkansas River is not so mighty as the Mogami River in faraway mountainous Yamaguta in central Japan.

The Temple of Yamadera (Risshaku-ji) was where Matsuo Basho stayed for a week on his Journey into Japan’s Northern Exterior. Here, Basho composed one of his most famous haiku.

閑さや岩にしみ入る蝉の声
Shizukasa ya / iwa ni shimiiru / semi no koe

An eerie silence
Deep within these massive rocks,
A cicada’s speaks.

One might argue that it is not that the cicada speaks. A cicada doesn’t speak it cries. Basho’s word choice is “voice.” Its sound seeps into or penetrates the stone — cicada and stone becoming one.

It seems the rain delayed his trip, or perhaps it was the beauty of the area. For the following week Basho climbed Mount Haguro, Mount Gassan and Mount Yudono, the Three Mountains of Dewa, holy to Japan’s Shinto religion.

Another momentous moment was Basho’s leaving Yamadera and his trip down the raging Mogami River, headed to Japan’s western shores.

五月雨をあつめて早し最上川
Samidare o / atsumete hayashi / Mogami-gawa

Gathering rains of May,
Swift and fierce it flows
— the Mogami River

I have taken kayak and canoe down raging creeks and overflowing rivers in Kansas, but I don’t recommend it to the faint of heart.

Better wait for better weather. Better paddle lakes or ponds.

July

man on a rock looking at the distant mountains

Yamadera
July 13th, 1689

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.

Yamadera 細道

July 13, 1689

Station 26, Risshakuji Temple

In the stillness of summer, deep within the rocks of Yamadera, comes the cry of a cicada.

In the quiet, penetrating the rock, the cry of a cicada
閑さや岩にしみ入蝉の声
shizukasa ya iwa ni shimi-iru semi no koe
Oku no Hosomichi, Matsuo Basho, July 1689

Note. Of course, various translations exist. Many of them can be found on Haiku Topics by Dr. Gabi Greve. 閑, Kan means ‘quiet’ but conveys the idea of ‘Emptiness’ in Taoism and Buddhism. 岩, Yán, rock signifies the idea of permanence, and 蝉, Chán, the cicada, a symbol of rebirth and regeneration, all combined in one memorable haiku.

Risshakuji, 立石寺

After visiting Seifu in Obanazawa, Basho detoured south to Yamadera, 山寺, the popular name for the Buddhist temple Risshakuji, 立石寺. It is located on the steep slopes of Mt. Hoju, in northern Yamagata Prefecture.

It was there, that Basho composed his well known haiku on the cicada.

In Chinese and Japanese lore, cicadas are high status creatures one seeks to emulate. They are considered pure because they subsist on dew and sap. Lofty because of they perch in trees. In summer, their call is loud and long.

By crawling around, Basho showed respect and emulated the cicada. Perhaps, he hoped, his words could penetrate even the stone itself.

As they have.

Basho’s Notes

From Oku no Hosomichi:
Risshakuji Temple

In Yamagata province is Ryushakuji Temple. Founded by the great teacher Jikaku Daishi, this temple is known for the quiet tranquility of its grounds. Told by everyone to see it, I left Obanazawa. Reaching it in the late afternoon, the sun still lingering. I arranged to stay at the foot of the mountain with the temple priests. I then climbed to the temple itself near the summit.

The mountain consists of boulder upon boulder covered with ancient pines and oaks. The stony ground in the color of eternity, covered in velvety moss. The shrine’s doors were barred and no sound could be heard.

I crawled on all fours from rock to rock, bowing at each shrine, feeling the purifying power of this holy place filling my being.

立石寺

山形領に立石寺と云山寺あり。慈覚大師の開基にて、殊清閑の地也。一見すべきよし、人々のすゝむるに依て、尾花沢よりとつて返し、其間七里ばかり也。日いまだ暮ず。梺の坊に宿かり置て、山上の堂にのぼる。岩に巖を重て山とし、松柏年旧土石老て苔滑に、岩上の院々扉を閉て物の音きこえず。岸をめぐり、岩を這て仏閣を拝し、佳景寂寞として心すみ行のみおぼゆ。

The Sound of Cicada

One can travel by train today from Tokyo to Yamadera in less than five hours.

In 1689, Matsuo Basho made the journey by foot in four or five months, give or take a day or a week. Basho left behind the comforts of his thatched cottage in Fukagawa, his friends, and his students for an uncertain journey with his companion Sora. They arrived in Yamadera in late August. There, Basho and Sora climb the rocky steps to the mountain temple called Yamadera (山寺, lit. “Mountain Temple”), shedding each step of the way their human worries and cares, until even the wind had ceased and all was silent.

Beholding the beauty of the scene, all Basho heard was the sound of the cicada.

ah, the silence
sinking into the rocks
the voice of the cicada

閑かさや
岩にしみ入る
蝉の声

shizukasa ya
iwa ni shimi-iru
semi no koe

Basho’s haiku is inspired by my own experience with cicadas in Kansas and elsewhere. It is a common experience shared by anyone who has heard the incessant high pitched cry. What they are saying and to whom is a mystery. Perhaps, spending 16 out of 17 years underground, they are happy to be set free, learning too soon that it is time to die.

Perhaps, I wonder is it the heat?

ah, in the heat of August,
from each and every tree
comes the cry the cicada

Notes on Translation

Shizukasa could also be “such silence”, the feeling of awe that comes across the traveler when the wind dies completely and one is left alone with the beauty of Nature.

Shimi-iru is literally “penetrating,” giving one the sense the cicadas have burrowed into the rocks to escape the heat. “Sinking” is more sublime, and suggestive of a Buddhist stage of meditation.

Semi no koe, at its simplest, is the voice of the cicada, but that doesn’t stop translators from adding a little spice with verbs like “shrill of the cicada” or “cry of the cicada”.