Basho: Sept. 15, 1644--Nov. 28, 1694

As I had mentioned in an earlier post, September 15 is the traditional date given for Basho's birth. As it comes shortly before the Fall Equinox, it would seem to be good date. Again, we will go around the year with Basho.



Spring

a)
ah, spring, spring,
great is spring,
etcetera

b)
ah spring spring
how great is spring!
and so on


This one caught me by surprise. I was expecting some image (another cherry blossom haiku perhaps) of the wonders of spring and instead got hit by boredom. Even haiku poets get tired of writing about the same old thing. Or, perhaps this is a "finish it yourself" haiku.

I prefer the second version, for "etcetera" sounds a bit pompous, while "and so on" better conveys the tedium of yet another haiku about the glories of spring.



Summer

departing from an old friend

a)
deer horns
developing their first branch:
our separation

b)
deer antler
now branching at the joint
farewell!

This haiku is more about separation than about summer. There's also a hint of sadness there that isn't obvious at first, at least it wasn't to me. Those branching antlers will never meet again. Is an "old friend" one who has been a friend for a long time or a friend who is getting old, or perhaps both. Could it be a quiet suggestion that they probably will never see each other again? This might be the final farewell.

I would go with the second version, but only by a slight preference. I don't like "joint," for it seems harsh, but "farewell" comes across more succinctly to me than "our separation." It echoes more clearly the hint carried by those antlers that branch and will never meet again.




Autumn

a)
autumn wind
through an open door--
a piercing cry

b)
autumn wind's
mouth at the sliding door
a piercing voice


The harsh wind of Autumn accompanies the withdrawal of life outside that door. What is that "piercing voice"? Is it a cry of despair?

I would go with the first version this time. "Mouth" bothers me.



Winter

a)
at a poor mountain temple,
a kettle crying in the frost,
the voice frigid

b)
a poor temple
frost on the iron kettle
has a cold voice


There is an example of personification in these two versions, but what is being personified differs. In the first version, the kettle is crying amidst the frost with a frigid voice, but in the second, it is the frost on the kettle that has a cold voice.

I think I would go with the first version here, today anyway. Some might go for the second version because considering frost with a voice is certainly more striking.


Bonus haiku

a)
wind from Mt. Fuji--
carrying it in my fan,
a souvenir for those in Edo

b)
a Fuji wind
placed here on a fan
a souvenir of Tokyo


I just like the idea here--a fan carrying a breeze from Mt. Fuji.

I prefer the first version this time; the second line seems clumsy--"placed here on a fan".



a) these versions are from
Basho's Haiku: Selected Poems of Matsuo Basho
trans. David Landis Barnhill


b) these versions are from
Basho: The Complete Haiku
trans. Jane Reichhold

Basho: Sept. 15?, 1644--Nov. 28, 1694

While there are no records that gives us the exact date Basho was born, Jane Reichhold, editor and translator of Basho: The Complete Haiku, writes that "[a]s with many births, his has become a matter of legend, giving him the birth date of the autumn full moon, or September 15." Sometimes, legends can be truer than truth, and in Basho's case, the first full moon in autumn is a good date.

I had a book titled The Haiku Masters, and surprisingly, it did not include any by Basho. The editor explained that the haiku masters were those considered to be among the greatest of poets. Basho is not considered a master: he is The Haiku Poet. So, rather than write about Basho, I think it's best just to provide a few samples of his poetry.


Basho's Four Seasons:

Spring:

April's air stirs in
Willow-leaves . . . a butterfly
Floats and balances

Summer:

Lonely silence
A single cicada's cry
Sinking into stone



Autumn:

A solitary
Crow on a bare branch--
Autumn evening



Winter:

the sea darkening,
the wild duck's call
faintly white



Spring poem:
A Little Treasury of Haiku
Avenel Books
Peter Beilenson, trans.


Summer and autumn poems:
The Sound of Water
Shambhala Centaur Editions
Sam Hamill, trans.


Winter poem:
Basho's Haiku
SUNY Press
David Landis Barnhill, trans.