Hyakunin Isshu (One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each): Poem 35 (Ki no Tsurayuki)

 Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 35

Translation and comments by Ad Blankestijn
(version September 2022)


of people, well,
you never know the heart,
yet at the old place
the blossoms as ever
are fragrant in their full splendor

hito wa isa
kokoro mo shirazu
furusato wa
hana zo mukashi no
ka ni nioi keru

人はいさ
心も知らず
ふるさとは
花ぞむかしの
香に匂ひける

Ki no Tsurayuki 紀貫之 (872–945)

[Plum blossoms]

"I don't know whether you feel the same about me as in the past, but the plum blossoms at least are blooming with the same scent as always."

The Kokinshu has the following head note: "One day, after a long absence, the poet stopped again at a house where he had often lodged when he made a pilgrimage to Hasuse. The owner said to him: "As you see, there is a perfectly good place to spend the night here." Tsurayuki broke off a blossoming branch from a plum tree nearby and composed this poem." (The owner's words teased Tsurayuki for the fact that he had not come for such a long time).

Hatsuse lies to the SE of Nara, 75 km from Kyoto (so a very long journey in those days) and was know for Hasedera temple, a Kannon temple which was an important pilgrimage center in Heian times (and in fact still is today).

Notes

• hito: points at the owner of the house (I think the term "inn" which is sometimes used, is too modern), but I have translated it more in general.
  
• isa (usually with shirazu): "saa, do desho ka?" "well..."
• furusato: a nostalgic, beloved place, not necessarily one's hometown
• hana: The poem only speaks about "hana", blossoms, but as "sakura" or cherry blossoms don't have any fragrance, the poet must be speaking about plum blossoms which are famous for their subtle scent. The poet would as was customary attach the paper with his poem it to some object, here a spray of plum blossoms he breaks off the tree.
  
• ka ni noikeru: to be in full bloom with a good scent.
  
  

[Ki no Tsurayuki by Kano Tanyu, 1648]

The poet

Ki no Tsurayuki was one of the greatest of the classical poets, and the first writer of Japanese prose (Tosa Nikki, a fictional travel account). He was the chief compiler of the Kokinshu, in which work he was assisted by the authors of verses Nos. 29, 30 and 33. This anthology was compiled at the order of emperor Daigo and was finished in 905, containing some eleven hundred poems in 20 volumes. Ki no Tsurayuki also wrote the Japanese preface to the anthology, the first critical essay on waka. Tsurayuki dealt with the history of the waka from its mythological origin to the waka of his time. He classified the poems into genres, referred to some important poets and evaluated his predecessors.

Tsurayuki himself was also famous for his waka and his name is also mentioned in the Genji Monogatari as a waka master (in the story Emperor Uda orders him and a number of female poets to write waka on door panels).

After holding several offices in Heiankyo, Tsurayuki was appointed provincial governor of Tosa Province and stayed there from 930 to 935. He was later probably transferred to Suo Province, as a record of a waka party he held in his home in Suo has come down to us.

There is an anthology of Tsurayuki's waka called Tsurayuki-shu. He probably put these together himself. Many of his poems have also been included in other major waka anthologies such as Kokinshu and other imperial collections. In the three oldest of the imperial waka anthologies, he was one of the most popular waka poets.

[Hasedera]

Kokinshu (Kokin Wakashu)

The Kokinshu (古今和歌集, "Collection from Ancient and Modern Times") is the first imperial waka anthology, and consists of 20 scrolls, which contain 1,111 poems. Although its compilation was already underway under Emperor Uda (r 887-897), the Kokinshu was officially commissioned under his son Emperor Daigo (r 897-930) and completed about 905. Although the compilers wrongly believed that the Man'yoshu had also been royally commissioned, the Kokinshu was in fact the first in a series of anthologies of waka poetry compiled by imperial command, the chokusenshu or Nijuichidaishu (Collections of the Twenty-One Eras). Next to being a compiler of such a collection, having one's poems included was the highest poetic honor.

The compilers of the anthology were four court poets, led by Ki no Tsurayuki (872-945) and also including his cousin Ki no Tomonori (who died before its completion), Oshikochi no Mitsune, and Mibu no Tadamine. Tsurayuki wrote the Japanese preface and Ki no Yoshimochi the Sinitic preface. The poems were chosen from 3 groups: (1) anonymous poems from older and more recent times, (2) poems from the period of the "Six Poetic Sages" (Rokkasen, mid-ninth century), and (3) poems by the compilers and their contemporaries. The "Six Poetic Sages," who attained their status by having been discussed in Tsurayuki's foreword, include Bishop Henjo (17 poems), Ariwara no Nakahira (30 poems), Fun'ya no Yasuhide (5 poems), Priest Kisen (1 poem), Ono no Komachi (18 poems) and Otomo no Kuronushi (3 poems). The compilers themselves are represented by 244 poems: Tsurayuki with over 100 (the highest number of any poet).  Another 6 poets, including Lady Ise and Priest Sosei are represented by 10 or more poems each. Over 120 named poets are represented, among whom 30 women. But the anonymous poems, with a number of 450, form the largest group.

The Kokinshu set the tradition of arranging the poems not by author, but by topic, which was followed by the other 20 imperial collections. Topics were seasonal poems (book 1 to 6), love poems (11-15), congratulatory poems, parting, travel, laments and miscellaneous topics. The proportions make clear that seasonal and love poems were considered the essential topical concerns of lyric poetry.

Within a given topic the poems were also arranged in meaningful sequences: the seasonal poems follow the course of a particular season from beginning to end, and in the same way the course of a love affair is followed through time.

Poems included in Hyakunin Isshu: 5, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 21, 22, 23, 24, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 43, 35, 36 (total 24).

[The earliest extant manuscript of the Kokinshu (early 12th c.),
a national treasure kept at the Tokyo National Museum]

Visiting

Hasedera is a fascinating temple. During the Heian period it was a center of the Kannon cult, like Kiyomizudera in Kyoto and Ishiyamadera in Otsu. The impressive Kannon Hall, built on stilts against the steep cliff, as Kiyomizudera in Kyoto, stands towering on the mountain slope. Inside pilgrims find a most wondrous ten meter tall statue, a standing Thousand-headed Kannon, who carries a flower vase in the left hand, and a monk’s staff and rosary in the right hand. That last feature is characteristic of Jizo statues, and this Kannon is therefore a fusion with that other beloved Bodhisattva, the meek Jizo. The Kannon Hall is reached via a long covered and gently graded staircase, and the temple is especially popular in the spring, when the peonies that line this staircase are in bloom. The temple was in Heian times favored by members of the nobility, such as the authors of the Kagero Nikki and the Sarashina Nikki (these Kannon temples welcomed visits by women, in contrast to other monastic establishments as Koyasan where women were not allowed to enter). Hasedera was consistently popular with visitors, something which was also helped by the fact it was situated on what was then the route from Kyoto to the Ise Shrine.
(15 min walk from Hasedera St on the Kintetsu Osaka line. https://www.hasedera.or.jp/)

[The long covered staircase in Hasedera]

References: Pictures of the Heart, The Hyakunin Isshu in Word and Image by Joshua S. Mostow (University of Hawai'i Press, 1996); Traditional Japanese Poetry, An Anthology, by Steven D. Carter (Stanford University Press, 1991); Hyakunin Isshu by Inoue Muneo, etc. (Shinchosha, 1990); Genshoku Hyakunin Isshu by Suzuki Hideo, etc. (Buneido, 1997); Ogura Hyakunin Isshu at Japanese Text Initiative (University of Virginia Library Etext Center); Hyakunin Isshu wo aruku by Shimaoka Shin (Kofusha Shuppan); Hyakunin Isshu, Ocho waka kara chusei waka e by Inoue Muneo (Chikuma Shoin, 2004); Basho's Haiku (2 vols) by Toshiharu Oseko (Maruzen, 1990); The Ise Stories by Joshua S. Mostow and Royall Tyler (University of Hawai'i Press, 2010); Kokin Wakashu, The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford University Press, 1985); Kokinshu, A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius (University of Tokyo Press, 1984); Kokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1994); Shinkokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1995); Taketori Monogatari-Ise Monogatari-Yamato Monogatari-Heichu Monogatari (Shogakkan, 1994).

Photos in this post my own work. Painting of Ki no Tsurayuki from Wikipedia

Hyakunin Isshu Index

Haiku Travels (15): Basho and the Sumida River (Tokyo)

 

Haiku Travels

Sumida River (Tokyo)

hototogisu

its cry lies stretched

across the water

hototogisu | koe yokotau ya | mizu no ue

ほととぎす声や横たふ水の上

Basho

[Basho looking out over the Sumida River (statue in the Observation Garden close to the Basho Memorial Hall)]

The Sumida River flows through central Tokyo into Tokyo Bay. It is actually the name for the lower reaches of the Arakawa River which originates in the Kanto mountains. The Sumida flows north to south through Tokyo's "shitamachi" (downtown area) and is connected with a network of canals. Wholesale stores and warehouses are located along the river.

The Sumida runs through Tokyo for about 27 kilometers, and today it passes under 26 bridges spaced at about one bridge per kilometer. In Basho's time there was only one bridge: Ryogoku Bridge, first built in 1659. Its name, "Bridge of the Two Countries" was based on the fact that it formed the border between the provinces Musashi and Shimousa. Just before Basho's death a second bridge was built, in fact closer to his house, the Shin Ohashi (New Great Bridge, 1693, see below). But there were also many ferries and smaller boats helping people to cross the river. It is a good idea to take a cruise on the Sumida River to see these bridges and Tokyo's skyline - the only disappointment, when comparing this cruise to cruises on the Seine or the Thames, is that Tokyo like other Japanese cities stands with its back turned to the river - it lacks the beautiful river front one finds in European cities.

The Sumida River was famous for the cherry trees planted on its banks and also for the large firework display in summer - this was first held in 1732 as a festival for the dead due to a famine. It continues to this day with fireworks launched from barges in the river.

The Sumida River has left its mark in literature as well. The earliest instances are in the Ise Monogatari and Sarashina Nikki, followed by a famous early 15th c. No play by Kanze Motomasa. In this play, a mad-woman travels all the way from Kyoto to the banks of the Sumidagawa in search of her lost child. From what the ferryman tells her, she understands that her child is dead and also that the people gathered before a burial mound on the opposite shore are chanting a Buddhist prayer on behalf of him (he had been kidnapped and later abandoned by slave traders). The woman rushes into the group and, striking a gong, begins to recite the Nenbutsu prayer herself. The ghost of a young boy appears from behind the burial mound but recedes with the light of dawn. Only the grass-covered mound remains.

And then we have of course the beautiful, nostalgic story Nagai Kafu wrote in 1911 (see my post on Modern Japanese Fiction Part 2).

[Sumida River and Shin-Ohashi]

How close to the river Basho lived is reflected in the following haiku:
 

full moon -
thrusting against my gate
tidal crests

meigetsu ya | kado ni sashikuru | shiogashira

名月や門にさしくる潮がしら

Full moon is the time that the tide in Tokyo Bay is highest. As Basho's hut stood on a tip of land near the mouth of the Sumida River, at the point where the Onagi River flowed into it, he was in a good position to observe tidal patterns. Moon viewing was a social activity in traditional Japan, but Basho apparently is alone this night. Suddenly, visitors arrive: the waves pushing against his gate, as if wanting to enter and join the poet in his appreciation of the bright moon.

In another haiku combining the Sumida with moon viewing, he wrote:

upstream
and here downstream
moon viewing buddies

kawakami to | kono kawashimo ya | tsuki no tomo

川上とこの川下や月の友

Standing on the edge of the wide river, Basho's hut must have been a perfect place for moon viewing. The moon viewing person living downstream in the present haiku is Basho himself, but commentators are not in unison about who Basho's moon-loving companion may have been. Or is Basho referring again to the waves of the Sumida?

Now to the haiku cited at the beginning of this post. Elsewhere I have already written about the hototogisu, or lesser cuckoo, which has a gentle call and is one of the best loved Japanese song birds. As this bird arrives around May in Japan, it is considered the harbinger of early summer. From the time of the first poetry collection, the Manyoshu (8th century), this small bird has inspired many poets. In haiku, it figures as a season word for 'early summer.'

Basho describes in this haiku how the call of the hototogisu, even after it has stopped, still reverberates over the river. The middle phrase suggests the spaciousness of the water. The poet was especially interested in such 'lingering sounds,' an effect he tried to match in his own haiku. This was also an important effect in ancient Chinese poetic theory: the subtle aftertaste is more important than the original flavor...

[Sudden Shower over Shin-Ohashi bridge
and Atake, by Hiroshige (1857)]

The Shin-Ohashi Bridge, the second bridge over the Sumida as mentioned above, built close to Basho's hut, was immortalized in a famous ukiyo-e by Hiroshige dating from 1857. Part of his “One Hundred Famous Views of Edo” series, it shows people hurrying across the wooden bridge in a downpour, their faces hidden by umbrellas. The buildings in the background are the boathouses of the shogun. On the river you can also spot a lumber raft - in nearby Fukagawa were extensive lumber yards, so that in case of fire that city could be quickly rebuilt.

Basho wrote several haiku about the New Great Bridge:

first snow -
on the new bridge
almost completed

hatsu yuki ya | kakekakaritaru | hashi no ue

初雪や懸けかかりたる橋の上

In September 1693 construction was started on this New Great Bridge. In fact, it stood almost next to the poet's cottage and he must have had a good view of the construction work. Originally it stood further downstream than the present Shin-Ohashi Bridge, in about the same position as the Basho Museum.

The new bridge, which made trips to Edo so much easier for Basho and his disciples, was finished in December 1693. It was 200 meters in length. The present haiku was written when the bridge was half completed, with the frame already standing. That frame in all its newness was crowned by fresh snow - the first of the season. Hatsu, 'first,' speaks of Basho's joy at the new bridge.

Another haiku, written after completion, expresses Basho's gratefulness, which to me has some Buddhist overtones, as it sounds like gratitude towards Tariki, the Other Power in Jodo Shin Buddhism:

everyone goes out
grateful for the bridge
covered with ripe

mina idete | hashi wo itadaku | shimoji kana

皆出でて橋を戴く霜路哉

Basho Kinenkan (Basho Museum)
10:00-17:00, Closed Mondays, year-end and New Year period. 1-6-3 Tokiwa Koto-ku, Tokyo-to 135. Tel. 03-3631-1448. Access: 5 min. from Kiyosumi-Shirakawa Station on the Oedo line; 7 min. from Morishita Station on the Shinjuku Subway line; 25 min. from Monzen-Nakamachi on the Tozai Subway line; 20 min. from Ryogoku Station on the JR Sobu line. https://www.kcf.or.jp/basho/

Translations and Studies of Basho
Basho's Haiku, 2 vols,  by Toshiharu Oseko (1990 & 1996, Maruzen): Basho and his Interpreters, Selected Hokku with Commentary, by Makoto Ueda (1992, Stanford U.P.); Traces of Dreams, Landscape, Cultural Memory, and the Poetry of Basho, by Haruo Shirane (1998, Stanford U.P.); Basho's Narrow Road, by Hiroaki Sato (1996, Stone Bridge Press); Basho's Journey, The Literary Prose of Matsuo Basho, by David Landis Bamhill (2005, State University of New York); Basho Yamatoji by Daiyasu Takashi considers Basho's travels in the Nara area and the haiku he wrote there (Izumi Shobo, 1994)

[All photos in this post are my own. Ukiyo-e from Wikipedia]

Index Haiku Travels

Sarashina Diary, by Lady Sarashina (book review)

As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams:
Recollections of a Woman in Eleventh-Century Japan, by Lady Sarashina

translated by Ivan Morris

Sarashina Nikki (Sarashina Diary) is a wonderful book, but the title is a misnomer. It is not a diary, but a personal memoir, and it has nothing to do with Sarashina, a locality in Nagano (one of the poems in the book refers obliquely to Sarashina, but that is all). The translator, Ivan Morris, therefore opted for the the fancy title “As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams,” which is beautifully poetic and apt, as the author often describes her dreams (and it is a reference to the last chapter of The Tale of Genji, Lady Sarashina's favorite novel), but it is not satisfactory either because it seems to point at a wholly different book. So let’s keep the name Sarashina Nikki, under which it is after all known in Japan, and let’s for convenience sake call the author “Lady Sarashina” as is commonly done.

Yes, this is not only a book without an original title, it is also a book written by a woman with no name. That last defect is normal for the Heian period: women didn’t use their names in public, but were called by the names / titles of their husbands, fathers or other male family members. Our writer was the “Daughter of Sugawara no Takasue,” and she was born more than one thousand years ago, in 1008, and died after 1059. Her father, from the well-known Sugawara family (which by this time had lost its power), was a provincial administrator, so a middle-ranking aristocrat. She lived with her father, taking care of his household, but at age 31 also started to serve as part-time lady-in-waiting to one of the imperial princesses. At age 36 she married, with a husband who was six years her senior, and a provincial administrator like her father. This was a very late marriage, as in Heian times marriages at ages as young as 16 were normal. She had a son and two more children by her husband. When she was 49, her husband returned ill from one of his postings and died (postings to the provinces were often "tanshin funin" in modern business terms, i.e. without the family). She continued to write her memoir for two years more (it is assumed that most of it was written in her later years), and then her voice falls silent – we don’t know if she died herself, or perhaps took refuge in a temple as a nun.

[Statue of Lady Sarashina
in front of Goi Station
(Ichihara, Chiba prefecture)]

The author was one of a group of literary women who flourished in 10th and 11th c. Japanese court society. They were well educated, had leisure and a favorable social position. Murasaki Shikibu, the author of The Tale of Genji, was one of them; others were for example Sei Shonagon (The Pillow Book), Izumi Shikibu, and the author of the Kagero Nikki, again a nameless woman (and the niece of Lady Sarashina).

Our author is intensely personal in describing her feelings, hopes and disappointments, but she tells us very little of the practical facts of life, as was customary at the time. But what she describes, is all very beautiful. What makes her work outstanding are the interesting descriptions of travels and pilgrimages – she was the first author in the genre of travel writing, and a very accomplished one. Her father had been posted as assistant governor to what is now part of Chiba prefecture, and when Lady Sarashina was 12 the family traveled back to the capital Heiankyo (Kyoto), a three month long journey. Her remembrances of this journey open her memoirs, and although terse and sometimes geographically inaccurate (because she wrote so many years after the event), it is unique in Heian literature. She writes about Mt Fuji (then still an active volcano): “There is no mountain like it in the world. It has a most unusual shape and seems to have been painted deep blue; its thick cover of unmelting snow gives the impression that the mountain is wearing a white jacket over a dress of deep violet.”

In her 10s and 20s, Lady Sarashina was addicted to reading tales, Japan’s earliest fiction, and her favorite book was The Tale of Genji. There was of course no publishing industry, books were privately copied and re-copied by hand. After reading the "Wakamurasaki" chapter of the Genji, Lady Sarashina yearns to possess the whole novel, even dedicating a Buddhist statue so that this wish may be fulfilled. Her joy knows no bounds when after returning to Heiankyo, she is presented with a whole copy (“more than 50 chapters”, so the Genji at that time probably had the same length as today’s 54 chapters). She dreams of being a heroine like Yugao or Ukifune, with a smart lover as Genji – it would be enough if he visited only once a year, for the rest she would look forward to his beautiful letters… In this way, the memoirs are impressive records of Lady Sarashina’s travel and of her day-to-day life.

Later she blames herself for her addiction to tales, and for having neglected her spiritual growth. That is later in life, when she has become a sincere Buddhist, making frequent pilgrimages to famous temples as Kiyomizudera, Ishiyamadera and Hasedera. Such pilgrimages were usually long trips of many days; not only the journey itself was long, but the pilgrims would stay for several nights in the temple, sleeping in the hall and hoping for prophetic dreams. Lady Sarashina paid great attention to dreams and describes about a dozen. Her dreams are no fortuitous interludes, but are consciously grasped as having a definite, inevitable meaning.

The Sarashina Nikki is also a memoir of the poems the author wrote. As was usual at that time, she includes a generous amount of her poetry and describes the occasions at which the poems were written. The level of Lady Sarashina’s poems is very high and several became famous and were included in official imperial anthologies.

The most literary episode in the book is her “meeting” with a cultured courtier. Lady Sarashina herself seems to have been rather timorous, introspective and solitary – she never felt at home at court because of her awkwardness. She met the elegant courtier (whose name she never learned) on a dark, rainy, night, when he passed the room where she sat behind screens as usual at the time, They exchanged a few words and the man won her admiration for his lyrical description of the seasons. But nothing came of it – while an Izumi Shikibu might have taken the man as her lover, Lady Sarashina was too shy, and after this one, poetic discussion with him, she only met him once more, briefly. But it is an interesting episode, a whiff of the Genji in the life of one of that novel’s most assiduous readers.

Sarashina Nikki is remarkable for its wistfulness and sensibility. The vulnerable author found happiness neither at court nor in her family, but projected into her writing her dreams and poignant longings. The portrait of a young woman who lived entirely in books is very touching.


Other translations besides the one by Ivan Morris:
Diaries of Court Ladies of Old Japan, by Annie Shepley Omori and Kochi Doi, 1920 -  the oldest English translation, by far not as good as the later ones, but freely available;
The Sarashina Diary: A Woman's Life in Eleventh-Century Japan, by Sonja Arntzen (2014, Columbia U.P.) - contemporary academic translation.

== I bought the Ivan Morris translation many years ago as a Penguin Classic, and am still satisfied with it. It has extensive notes and a good introduction, and reads smoothly. Ivan Morris (1925-1976) studied Japanese language and culture at Harvard University and the School of Oriental and African Studies in London. He wrote widely on modern and ancient Japan (The World of the Shining Prince; The Nobility of Failure) and translated numerous classical and modern literary works. He was a friend of Mishima Yukio. ==

Haiku Travels (14): Basho and Bashoan (Tokyo)

 

Haiku Travels

Tokyo

banana plant in autumn gale

hearing all night

rain leaking into a tub

basho nowaki shite | tarai ni ame wo | kiku yo kana

芭蕉野分して盥に雨を聞く夜かな

Basho

In 1680 haikai master Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) moved from Nihonbashi in the bustling center of Edo to a small country house in Fukagawa, in the countryside on the opposite bank of the river. Here he started new haikai activities. Away from the city with its endless rounds of linked verse (renga) sessions where he acted as referee (and which brought in a reasonable income), now he was free to concentrate on his art and bring it to new heights, in a sort of self-imposed exile. Most famous haiku date from this period.

There has been much speculation about where exactly he would have lived, but the general area was that of the present Basho Museum (Basho Kinenkan), so that is a good place to start out tour. The museum's exhibits include calligraphy of Basho's haiku (amongst others by haiku poet Buson); portraits of the poet; an example of the clothes he may have worn when traveling, as well as an ingenious small writing brush with ink pot for use on the road (yatate).

In the garden stand a few haiku stones as well as a miniature copy of Basho's hut. To remain wholly in style, the museum also has plantains (basho) growing against its walls. These refer to the poetical name that Basho assumed after starting to live here: he named himself Basho after the plantain (sometimes also called banana plant) that disciples had planted in the garden of the cottage.

Basho received this plantain in 1681 and was delighted with the gift. He felt empathy with the plantain because of its small and unobtrusive flowers, exuding a certain loneliness, and the soft leaves that were easily torn in wintry storms. Above all, the tree was of no practical use whatsoever - like the poet himself. Basho perhaps thought of the useless tree in a famous anecdote in the Chinese philosophical work Zhuangzi, a tree which was spared the carpenter's axe, and therefore attained a ripe old age.

At night Basho sat alone in his hut, listening to the storm ripping the plantain leaves (a nowaki is in fact a typhoon). On stormy nights the tree was pitiful indeed, shaken by the inclement climate of the northern land where it did not feel at home. The roof of the hut leaked and Basho had placed a basin under the hole to catch the rain drops. The dripping went on all night and strangely mingled with the rustling leaves outside.

Perhaps noting the affinity between poet and tree, visitors started to call the hut Basho-an, or Plantain Hut. The name then also stuck to the poet himself and he was happy with it. For the rest of his life, he would call himself Basho – in contrast to the many different sobriquets he had used before this – and that is how he is known today.

The plantain apparently survived the poet: it was incorporated into a samurai mansion built on the spot of Basho's hut and lived until the early Meiji-period (1868-1912), when it finally withered and died.

The original hut did not survive – in fact, there were three different Basho huts, because fire once took its toll (in 1682) and in 1689 Basho himself moved out on the faraway journey to northern Japan. The third hut, finally, was built near the former site in 1692. When in 1917, after a tsunami hit a ceramic frog was found here that people believed to have been in Basho's possession (I do not know why, except the fact that he wrote a famous frog haiku! The frog stone can be seen in the museum), it was decided that this must have been the location of Basho's hut. Now a small Inari shrine in the usual vermilion color standing between residences and small warehouses occupies the spot just south of the museum. Opposite is a staircase leading to a rooftop garden where you will find a nice Basho statue. The haiku master sits pensively staring at the river, probably contemplating the enormous changes that have taken place here. 

[Inari shrine on the purported spot of Basho's hut
(near the Basho Museum)]

plantain leaves
to hang on the pillar
moon in my hut

bashoba wo | hashira ni kaken | io no tsuki

芭蕉葉を柱に懸けん庵の月

There were in fact three 'Basho huts': the first was one built in 1680, when Basho moved from Nihonbashi in the center of Edo to Fukagawa in the countryside on the opposite bank of the river. This hut was destroyed by a fire in 1682. The second one was built soon after that, but sold in 1689 when Basho went on his long trip to the North. The third hut, finally, was built near the former site in 1692.

The present haiku dates from that year, when Basho's disciples replanted the old plantain to the new hut. Why does the poet hang a leaf of the plantain on the pillar of his hut? Perhaps because it reminds him of moon viewing sessions in his old hut: he enjoys seeing the moon shine through the soft and fragile leaves of the plantain, the tree that he loved so much and from which he took his poetic name. After the long trip to the North, he finally feels at home again. But is not the comfort of worldly possessions or attachment to physical comfort that makes him feel at home: it is moonlight seen through a basho leaf...

[The Observation Garden with statue of Basho,
close to the Basho Museum]

Basho Kinenkan (Basho Museum). 10:00-17:00, Closed Mondays, year-end and New Year period. 1-6-3 Tokiwa Koto-ku, Tokyo-to 135. Tel. 03-3631-1448. Access: 5 min. from Kiyosumi-Shirakawa Station on the Oedo line; 7 min. from Morishita Station on the Shinjuku Subway line; 25 min. from Monzen-Nakamachi on the Tozai Subway line; 20 min. from Ryogoku Station on the JR Sobu line. https://www.kcf.or.jp/basho/

Translations and Studies of Basho
Basho's Haiku, 2 vols,  by Toshiharu Oseko (1990 & 1996, Maruzen): Basho and his Interpreters, Selected Hokku with Commentary, by Makoto Ueda (1992, Stanford U.P.); Traces of Dreams, Landscape, Cultural Memory, and the Poetry of Basho, by Haruo Shirane (1998, Stanford U.P.); Basho's Narrow Road, by Hiroaki Sato (1996, Stone Bridge Press); Basho's Journey, The Literary Prose of Matsuo Basho, by David Landis Bamhill (2005, State University of New York); Basho Yamatoji by Daiyasu Takashi considers Basho's travels in the Nara area and the haiku he wrote there (Izumi Shobo, 1994)


All photos in this post by Ad Blankestijn.

Index Haiku Travels

Hyakunin Isshu (One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each): Poem 34 (Fujiwara no Okikaze)

 Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 34

Translation and comments by Ad Blankestijn
(version September 2022)


whom can I regard
as someone who knows me?
since Takasago's pine trees
are in no way
my friends from the past

tare wo ka mo
shiru hito ni sen
Takasago no
matsu mo mukashi no
tomo nara naku ni

誰をかも
知る人にせむ
高砂の
松もむかしの
友ならなくに

Fujiwara no Okikaze 藤原興風 (dates uncertain)

[Scene from the No play Takasago, by Tsukioka Kogyo]

A poem about getting old and losing all one's friends to death: the loneliness of old age. Even though the pines of Takasago are also long-lived, there is no way they can provide companionship to the poet (Mostow).

Notes

• tare wo ka mo: "ka" indicates question, "mo" is an intensifier. "ittai dare" in modern Japanese.
• shiru hito ni semu: "shiru hito" are people who know oneself well, so "friends."
  
• Takasago no matsu: Takasago in Harima province (now Hyogo prefecture) on the west bank of the Kakogawa river was since the 10th c. famous for its pine trees. Tsurayuki, in the preface to the Kokinshu, mentions the present poem with the words "the poet might think of the pine trees of Takasago and Suminoe (in Osaka, on the other side of the Bay) as having grown up with him (aioi)" i.e. being of the same, very old age.
  
• tomo naranaku ni: "tomo de nai no ni". The negation "-naku" has been added to the assertive "naru." "ni" serves as an exclamation.
  

The No play Takasago

The famous No play Takasago, by Zeami, quotes the present poem, but changes its meaning. Aioi was no longer interpreted in the sense that the poet and the pines had grown up together, but was taken to refer to specific pine trees in Takasago and in Suminoe (Osaka), which were understood to be "paired," as husband and wife. The No play features an auspicious story, involving a loving and long-married couple. And in due time aioi came to mean two tree trunks growing out of a single base, a symbol of marital harmony.

"In the No play the Takasago and Sumiyoshi pine spirits are personified as an elderly peasant couple, wearing humble dress. Although separated by a great distance, the spirit of the pine at Sumiyoshi (Osaka), pays nightly visits to his wife, the Takasago pine spirit, who lives on the coast at Takasago bay. Despite their hair white with age, the couple's bond gives them youthful energy and beauty. Thus the pines and corresponding elderly couple symbolize longevity and conjugal devotion. From the 17c, the Takasago spirit as an old woman holding a broom and Sumiyoshi as an old man with a rake usually standing under an aged pine tree have been painted or represented as figurines and displayed at celebrations of long life and good fortune, such as New Year's or weddings" (from JAANUS).

But the No play about marital harmony is a long cry from the original poem, a lament for old age when one's friends die one after another.

The poet

Fujiwara no Okikaze was an official in the Province of Sagami in the year 911; the date of his death is unknown, but he is mentioned as being alive as late as the year 914. 38 of his poems are included in the anthologies compiled by the imperial order following the Kokinshu.

[Aioi pines in Takasago Shrine, Takasago, Hyogo]

Visiting

Although present-day Takasago, between Kakogawa and Himeji in western Hyogo, is an industrial town with little natural beauty, it is interesting to visit the Takasago shrine for its literary connections.

The mythical Empress Jingu is supposed to have founded several shrines in Hyogo prefecture when she returned from a - just as mythical - military campaign on the Korean peninsula, and Takasago Jinja is one of them. At the shrines foundation, the Aioi pines sprouted - one day, a pine tree with two trunks, one male and one female, grew out of a single root. The shrine was dedicated to the ancient deity Onamuchi (Okuninushi), to whom in 972 Susano-o and his spouse Kushinada-hime were added.

In the grounds of the Takasago Shrine, one still finds the Aioi pines, although they do not strike visitors as of any reputable age - the pines have probably been many times replanted (it seems to be the fifth generation now; the trunk of one of the previous pines is preserved in the shrine.

There is also a No stage from the second half of the 17th c. where regularly open-air No performances by torchlight are held. Besides being popular for the New Year shrine visit, Takasago Jinja attracts large crowds on October 10 and 11, during the Autumn Festival.

    From Sanyo Electric Railway Takasago Station: 15 min walk S, or 5 min by taxi.
    From JR Kakogawa Station: 15 min by taxi.

    See: https://goo.gl/maps/4aQRqew54kvtKX5X9

References: Pictures of the Heart, The Hyakunin Isshu in Word and Image by Joshua S. Mostow (University of Hawai'i Press, 1996); Traditional Japanese Poetry, An Anthology, by Steven D. Carter (Stanford University Press, 1991); Hyakunin Isshu by Inoue Muneo, etc. (Shinchosha, 1990); Genshoku Hyakunin Isshu by Suzuki Hideo, etc. (Buneido, 1997); Ogura Hyakunin Isshu at Japanese Text Initiative (University of Virginia Library Etext Center); Hyakunin Isshu wo aruku by Shimaoka Shin (Kofusha Shuppan); Hyakunin Isshu, Ocho waka kara chusei waka e by Inoue Muneo (Chikuma Shoin, 2004); Basho's Haiku (2 vols) by Toshiharu Oseko (Maruzen, 1990); The Ise Stories by Joshua S. Mostow and Royall Tyler (University of Hawai'i Press, 2010); Kokin Wakashu, The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford University Press, 1985); Kokinshu, A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius (University of Tokyo Press, 1984); Kokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1994); Shinkokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1995); Taketori Monogatari-Ise Monogatari-Yamato Monogatari-Heichu Monogatari (Shogakkan, 1994).

Photos from Wikipedia.

Hyakunin Isshu Index

 

Hyakunin Isshu (One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each): Poem 33 (Ki no Tomonori)

 Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 33

Translation and comments by Ad Blankestijn
(version September 2022)


in these spring days
with the tranquil light
pervading everywhere -
why should the blossoms scatter
with such restless hearts?

hisakata no
hikari nodokeki
haru no hi ni
shizugokoro naku
hana no chiruran

久方の
光のどけき
春の日に
しづ心なく
花のちるらむ

Ki no Tomonori (died 905 or 907)

One of the most famous poems in the Hyakunin Isshu, "composed on the falling of the cherry blossoms." The poem sets up a contradiction between the peaceful, balmy spring day (representative of the beneficial imperial rule) and the frenzied scattering of the cherry blossoms, as if their hearts are uneasy - or is it not the flowers whose hearts are unquiet, but the hearts of those who watch them fall? I think it is the latter, and those restless thoughts must then be caused by the lonely feelings that fill the spectators after the blossoms are gone.

Notes

• hisakata: a "pillow-word" for heaven, generally used in poetry in conjunction with such words as sun, moon, sky, or, as in this case, hikari, the light (of heaven). "ubiquitous," "omnipresent," "pervasive."
  
• hikari: meant is the light of the sun
  
• nodokeki: nodaka
• shizugokoro naku: (scattering) without a calm heart
• hana no chiruramu: "no" indicates the subject of the sentence. "-ramu" indicates a question, "why should the blossoms scatter?"
  

The poet

Ki no Tomonori (c. 850–c. 905/907) was a court poet and one of the compilers of the Kokinshu, though he died before its completion. Ki no Tsurayuki (poem 35) , his more famous cousin, was the leader of the compilation effort. Ki no Tomonori is the author of several poems in the Kokinshu, and a few of his poems also appear in later official collections.

References: Pictures of the Heart, The Hyakunin Isshu in Word and Image by Joshua S. Mostow (University of Hawai'i Press, 1996); Traditional Japanese Poetry, An Anthology, by Steven D. Carter (Stanford University Press, 1991); Hyakunin Isshu by Inoue Muneo, etc. (Shinchosha, 1990); Genshoku Hyakunin Isshu by Suzuki Hideo, etc. (Buneido, 1997); Ogura Hyakunin Isshu at Japanese Text Initiative (University of Virginia Library Etext Center); Hyakunin Isshu wo aruku by Shimaoka Shin (Kofusha Shuppan); Hyakunin Isshu, Ocho waka kara chusei waka e by Inoue Muneo (Chikuma Shoin, 2004); Basho's Haiku (2 vols) by Toshiharu Oseko (Maruzen, 1990); The Ise Stories by Joshua S. Mostow and Royall Tyler (University of Hawai'i Press, 2010); Kokin Wakashu, The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford University Press, 1985); Kokinshu, A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius (University of Tokyo Press, 1984); Kokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1994); Shinkokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1995); Taketori Monogatari-Ise Monogatari-Yamato Monogatari-Heichu Monogatari (Shogakkan, 1994).

Photos my own work

Hyakunin Isshu Index

Haiku Travels (13): Issa and Tokyo

Haiku Travels

Tokyo (Entenji in the Adachi ward)

skinny frog

don't give up the fight

Issa is here!

yasegaeru / makeru na Issa / koko ni ari

痩蛙まけるな一茶是に有り

Issa

[The haiku carved on a stone, standing together with frog figures in the garden of Entenji]

Issa (1763-1828) was born in Kashiwabara, in the snow country in the north of present-day Nagano and was a devout follower of Jodo Shinshu Buddhism. He led a life full of misfortunes and poverty, but his haiku often describe the simple joys he also found. Issa is famous for his empathy with small animals, even flies. He seems to have regarded them as his equals, in the true Buddhist sense. In sort, Issa is one of the most sympathetic of all haiku poets, someone you can easily relate to. He was utterly without pretense, simple and straightforward - and so are the more than 20,000 haiku he wrote.

When Issa visited Edo. he frequently lodged in a temple just outside the city, in present-day Adachi ward: Entenji. Issa wrote the following haiku about this temple:

crickets are chirping
in Sixth-Month-Village's
Temple of the Blazing Sky

semi naku ya | Rokugatsumura no | Entenji

蝉鳴や六月村の炎天寺

This haiku is a greeting to the temple, pairing this "blazing temple" with the semi, the cicadas who in summer make a deafening noise.

[Entenji Temple]

Entenji was founded in the 11th century and strangely enough, the origin of this small and peaceful temple lies in war. Minamoto no Yoriyoshi and Yoshiie, father and son, were on their way to Northern Japan to fight the Abe Clan, which had risen in revolt. When they passed through this area, they were attacked by fierce Kanto samurai. After imploring the help of Hachiman, the war god and patron deity of the Minamoto, they won the difficult battle. Out of gratitude they founded a temple and a Hachiman Shrine - the shrine still sits next to the temple. The name they selected for the temple was enten or "Blazing Sky," as the battle took place in the sixth month, in the worst heat of summer. Afterwards, the area took on the name Rokugatsumura, "Village of the Sixth Month," after the month in which the battle had been waged - and Rokugatsu is still the name of the neighborhood.

The main image of the temple is an Amida Nyorai - after all, Hachiman was considered as this Buddha's avatar. There are also a Yakushi and a Fudo Myo-o. In the grounds stand various old and new monuments, such as a beautiful set of the Six Jizo and a stone pagoda. The temple is small, but tasteful and only a short walk from Takenotsuka station in the Adachi ward, the most northern part of Tokyo.

[Issa statue in Entenji]

The temple now is famous among haiku fans for Issa. There are a few haiku stones, and an impressive modern statue of Issa. Thanks to Issa, Entenji has become a haiku temple, holding an Issa- festival every year on November 23, when haiku are collected from primary and middle school students all over Japan.

The frog featuring in the haiku at the top of this page was a particular favorite of Issa. This poem, written in 1816, describes a sort of "frog sumo," but not for sport: the frogs are fighting over a female. As usual, Issa hopes the weak, skinny frog will win, a sentiment I fully agree with, as I also dislike "favorites" and "stars." It is also possible that Issa sees his own image in the skinny frog. Some commentators go so far to claim that Issa, who married late, is also encouraging himself to find a wife, but that interpretation does not seem probable, as Issa had married two years before he wrote this haiku.

[The "Lucky Frog"]

Next to the statue of Issa in Entenji is a small pond, in which a few stone frogs have been placed, and in front of the Main hall sits a huge frog called Fuku Kaeru, Lucky Frog (or "Luck Returning"), which is very popular with worshipers (but this one is not skinny at all!). The same is true of this haiku: the "sumo" of the skinny frog, encouraged by Issa, is one of the most popular haiku Issa ever wrote.

Both haiku have been carved on so-called "haiku stones" (kuhi) which stand next to the Issa statue in the grounds of Entenji. Entenji is 15 min on foot from the East exit of Takenotsuka St on the Tobu Isezaki line. Walk along the railway line, passing a long stretch of flats, until you reach a small park. Turn left after the park, and turn left again after the second block.

Haiku of Kobayashi Issa: http://haikuguy.com/issa/

Dew on the Grass: The Life and Poetry of Kobayashi Issa (2004, Brill's Japanese Studies Library)

[The photos in this post are my own]

Index Haiku Travels

Hyakunin Isshu (One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each): Poem 32 (Harumichi no Tsuraki)

 Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 32

Translation and comments by Ad Blankestijn
(version September 2022)


in the mountain stream:
a barrier
raised by the wind -
that are the autumn leaves,
powerless to flow on

yamakawa ni
kaze no kaketaru
shigarami wa
nagare mo aenu
momiji narikeri

山川に
風のかけたる
しがらみは
流れもあへぬ
紅葉なりけり


Harumichi no Tsuraki 春道列樹 (d. 920)

A scene of continuously falling autumn leaves, in such a quantity that they have covered the stream and blocked it up - "as if a weir had been built in it." The expression "the weir/barrier raised (or: flung) by the wind" was praised by the early commentators. The poem is on a simple "as for A, it is B" pattern that was popular in the Kokinshu period. The same is true for the element of personification (gijinka) in the poem. As Harumichi no Tsuraki was a rather obscure poet, it must have been Teika's high regard for this poem that motivated him to include it in the Hyakunin Isshu.

Notes

• 山川: this should be read as "yamagawa," a small stream in the mountains. When read as "yamakawa" the meaning becomes "mountains and rivers."
• kaze no kaketaru: "no" indicates the subject. The wind has here been personified.
• shigarami: a weir or barrier
• nagare mo aenu: the autumn leaves try to flow on, but are unable to do so.
  
• narikeri: to the assertive "nari", the exclamatory "-keri" has been joined.
  

The poet

Harumichi no Tsuraki lived in the mid-Heian period. Very little of his life is known. In 920 he was appointed as governor of Iki Province, but died before taking office. Only five of his poems are extant.

References: Pictures of the Heart, The Hyakunin Isshu in Word and Image by Joshua S. Mostow (University of Hawai'i Press, 1996); Traditional Japanese Poetry, An Anthology, by Steven D. Carter (Stanford University Press, 1991); Hyakunin Isshu by Inoue Muneo, etc. (Shinchosha, 1990); Genshoku Hyakunin Isshu by Suzuki Hideo, etc. (Buneido, 1997); Ogura Hyakunin Isshu at Japanese Text Initiative (University of Virginia Library Etext Center); Hyakunin Isshu wo aruku by Shimaoka Shin (Kofusha Shuppan); Hyakunin Isshu, Ocho waka kara chusei waka e by Inoue Muneo (Chikuma Shoin, 2004); Basho's Haiku (2 vols) by Toshiharu Oseko (Maruzen, 1990); The Ise Stories by Joshua S. Mostow and Royall Tyler (University of Hawai'i Press, 2010); Kokin Wakashu, The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford University Press, 1985); Kokinshu, A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius (University of Tokyo Press, 1984); Kokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1994); Shinkokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1995); Taketori Monogatari-Ise Monogatari-Yamato Monogatari-Heichu Monogatari (Shogakkan, 1994).

Photo from Wikipedia

Hyakunin Isshu Index

Hyakunin Isshu (One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each): Poem 31 (Sakanoue no Korenori)

  Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 31

Translation and comments by Ad Blankestijn
(version September 2022)


the light of the lingering moon
at break of day,
so it seemed, 
the white snow fallen
in Yoshino village

asaborake
ariake no tsuki to
  miru made ni
Yoshino no sato ni
fureru shirayuki

朝ぼらけ
有明の月と
みるまでに
吉野の里に
ふれる白雪


Sakanoue no Korenori 坂上是則 (dates unknown)

[Cherry blossoms instead of snow at Mt Yoshino (just like moonlight in the poem below, cherry blossoms were also often mistaken for snow)]

There exists interesting links between this poem and the preceding two. As in poem 30, we again have a waning moon in the early morning - but with the difference that here we find an express reference to the first faint light of dawn in winter (asaborake instead of akatsuki). In addition, we have an example of "elegant confusion" as in poem 29, presenting another image of whiteness so treasured by Teika.

Notes

• asaborake: the first faint light of dawn
• ariake no tsuki to miru made ni: "it could be mistaken for the waning moonlight at dawn". In other words, white snow is lying on the earth, but it is as if the ground is illuminated white by the light of the moon.
  
• Yoshino: a mountain village about 50 km south of Nara, known for its cherry blossoms and its heavy snowfall. Yoshino also figures in poem 94.
  

The Poet

Little is known about this poet, but he is said to have lived in the late ninth century. He was a fourth-generation descendant of generalissimo Sakanoue no Tamuramaro and served as governor of Kaga province. Eight of his poems have been preserved in the Kokinshu and about 30 more in later imperial anthologies.

Visiting

See the description of Yoshino and ways to visit it at the bottom of poem 94.

References: Pictures of the Heart, The Hyakunin Isshu in Word and Image by Joshua S. Mostow (University of Hawai'i Press, 1996); Traditional Japanese Poetry, An Anthology, by Steven D. Carter (Stanford University Press, 1991); Hyakunin Isshu by Inoue Muneo, etc. (Shinchosha, 1990); Genshoku Hyakunin Isshu by Suzuki Hideo, etc. (Buneido, 1997); Ogura Hyakunin Isshu at Japanese Text Initiative (University of Virginia Library Etext Center); Hyakunin Isshu wo aruku by Shimaoka Shin (Kofusha Shuppan); Hyakunin Isshu, Ocho waka kara chusei waka e by Inoue Muneo (Chikuma Shoin, 2004); Basho's Haiku (2 vols) by Toshiharu Oseko (Maruzen, 1990); The Ise Stories by Joshua S. Mostow and Royall Tyler (University of Hawai'i Press, 2010); Kokin Wakashu, The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford University Press, 1985); Kokinshu, A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius (University of Tokyo Press, 1984); Kokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1994); Shinkokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1995); Taketori Monogatari-Ise Monogatari-Yamato Monogatari-Heichu Monogatari (Shogakkan, 1994).

Photo from Wikipedia.

Hyakunin Isshu Index

Haiku Travels (12): Shiki and Suma (Kobe)

Haiku Travels

Suma (Kobe)

 

break of day -


a white sail glides by


outside my mosquito net

akebono ya | shiraho sugiyuku | kaya no soto

暁や白帆過ぎ行く蚊帳の外

Shiki

[Suma Rikyu park]

Suma, one of the wards of Kobe, is known for its white sandy beach, which attracts people from the Kansai region for sun bathing during the summer season. That same beach (in the distant past also adorned by pine trees) appears in classic literature, from the Genji monogatari, Heike monogatari and Ise monogatari, to waka poetry and No plays. As Prince Genji was sent here in exile, and as it was far from the capital Heiankyo, it had - different from today's bright image - a somewhat lonely and melancholic connotation. That image is reinforced in the No play Matsukaze, in which Ariwara no Yukihira, after a love affair with the fishing girls Matsukaze and Murasame, cruelly abandons them when he is allowed to return to Heiankyo. Even more negative was the image caused by the Battle of Ichi-no-Tani during the civil war between the Minamoto and the Taira clans in 1184, when Suma Beach was littered with dead bodies (mostly of Taira warriors, who lost) and people for many years believed that their ghosts still haunted the area.

In more recent times the area was also a popular site for villas of the wealthy and powerful, including the Suma Detached palace (Suma Rikyu), established in 1914 by the Imperial Household Agency as a summer resort for the imperial family. The palace was destroyed in 1945, and the park has since been acquired by the City of Kobe. The Rikyu Garden consists now of a Western-style garden of the Versailles type, with cascades and rows of fountains, as well as a large rose garden, an iris garden and a camellia garden. A lookout-point provides a view over Suma and the nearby sea (see my post Plum Blossoms in Suma Rikyu Park for more information). Other destinations in Suma are Suma Temple (a Shingon temple dating back to the 9th c., with many literary associations, and still a popular pilgrim destination), Suma Seaside Park containing an aqua park and Sumaura Park with a rope-way up Mt Hachibuse. Everything is just half an hour from central Kobe.

"Man of letters" Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), who was born in Matsuyama just before the Meiji-period dawned, was a major figure in the development of modern haiku poetry (changing the old designation "hokku" to "haiku"), and wrote more than 25,000 haiku during his short life. But he was also an important poet and reformer of tanka poetry, an influential critic, writer of poetic diaries, and so on. It is incredible how much he achieved in his all too short life.

Already in 1889, Shiki had coughed up blood as a sign that his lungs were affected by tuberculosis. In the spring of 1895, on the return journey from a visit to China, he suffered a severe hemorrhage of the lungs. As soon as his ship arrived in Kobe, he was rushed to a hospital. Friends and family gathered around his  bed, but Shiki rallied miraculously and soon left the hospital for a rest home in nearby Suma. By late summer he was able to return to his birthplace Matsuyama (where he stayed with Natsume Soseki) but later in the year settled down in Tokyo. There he was mainly confined to his bed again, as the tuberculosis had settled in his spine, making walking almost impossible. He devoted all the time left him to literature, and was often joined by friends and followers in his sickroom.

The present haiku was written by Shiki while staying in the rest house in Suma. It is summer, so his bed has been enclosed by a tent-like mosquito net, as was customary in the past when there were no air conditioners yet and windows had to remain open for coolness. The sanatorium stood at the coast. At dawn, when Shiki wakes up, he looks out of the window and sees the white sail of a boat passing by. That was surely not a modern yacht - yachts came after WWII to Japan - but probably a fishing boat or coastal vessel transporting goods. So we have white upon white: the white sail seen through the white gauze of the mosquito net (and my imagination adds as third whiteness the white walls of the sick room, but that may be too modern, as at this early (Meiji-period) date it may well have been brown, wooden walls).

The Suma Rikyu Park is not connected to Shiki, but I have selected it here as a symbol of Suma. It is a 10-min walk from Suma Station on the JR or Sanyo Dentetsu line. Suma Temple, which will figure in a future one of the Haiku Travels, is also a short walk from this station.

See about Shiki: Masaoka Shiki, Selected Poems, by Burton Watson (Columbia U.P.); The Winter Sun Shines in: A Life of Masaoka Shiki, by Donald Keene (Columbia U.P.); Masaoka Shiki: His Life and Works, by Janine Beichman (Kodansha International); If Someone Asks..., Masaoka Shiki's Life and Haiku, Matsuyama Municipal Shiki-Kinen Museum.

Index Haiku Travels

Haiku Travels (11): Shirao and Ueda (Nagano)

Haiku Travels

Ueda (Nagano)

 

my hometown -


I have something to say


to apricot and willow

furusato ya | ume ni yanagi ni | hanashi ari

ふるさとや梅に柳にはなしあり

Shirao

[Ueda Castle]

The hometown in this haiku is the small but attractive castle town of Ueda, located between Karuizawa and Nagano. The town was propelled to fame in the late 16th c. when a much smaller army of defenders under Sanada Yukimura twice repelled the superior forces of national unificator Tokugawa Ieyasu ( as celebrated in the historical novel Sanada Taiheiki by the modern author Ikenami Shotaro). Much earlier, during the Nara period, Ueda already was the capital of Shinano province; however, in the Heian period the provincial capital was shifted to Matsumoto. During the Sengoku period, the area became the center of the powerful Sanada clan, and in the ensuing Edo period Ueda functioned as a castle town and headquarters of the Ueda domain.

Today, Ueda is a regional commercial center with both agriculture and light industry. The main crops include rice, apples, grapes and cabbage. The traditional industry of Ueda was sericulture, but the city now produces automobile components and electronics. For visitors, the most interesting part of Ueda is Bessho, an ancient spa, which besides the healing waters boasts several great temples. Anrakuji and Daihoji both have "national treasure"-status pagodas. Nagano prefecture's main river, the river Chikuma, flows through Ueda.

The haiku poet Kaya Shirao (1738-91) was not actually born in Ueda, but in the Edo mansion of the ruling clan of Ueda. He spent his life as a celebrated haiku master in Edo, trying to revive the style of Basho. But he often visited Ueda and also had many pupils in this area. In fact, his relation to Ueda was deepened because his brother and sister moved there, the latter in marriage. Shirao's first Ueda visit took place in 1767 and that is when he wrote the present haiku. It aptly gives voice to the feeling of familiarity one feels in one's hometown: nobody one meets is like a stranger, even apricot (ume) trees and willows are like old friends one could immediately start a conversation with.

[Ueda Castle]

Another haiku by Shirao was written in 1774 at Usui Pass, east of Ueda, presumably when Shirao was again traveling between Edo and Ueda.

    at cloudy Usui Pass
    I always hear
    the mountain cuckoo

    hinakumori | kanarazu yo yama | hototogisu

    鄙曇必与山子規「ひなぐもりかならずよやまほととぎす」
    
Usui Pass is not literally mentioned, but according to a commentary "hinakumori", a combination of "rustic" and "cloudy" always is used to refer to Usui Pass (presumably by the inhabitants of Ueda, as they were returning via this pass to their "rustic" hometown). Usui is the mountain pass that lies between Nagano and Gunma prefectures; it was the major route between Edo and Nagano.

The "hototogisu" is the "lesser cuckoo" but it should be noted that it has more positive connotations than its European relatives. The bird has relatively large wings and a long tail, a gray back and a white belly with black stripes. The bad habit it has in common with the Western cuckoo is that it, too, is a parasitic breeder. But the Japanese lesser cuckoo has a gentle call and is one of the best loved Oriental song birds. As it arrives around May in Japan, it is considered the harbinger of warmer weather.

From the time of the first poetry collection, the Manyoshu (8th century), this small bird has inspired many poets. In haiku, it figures as a season word for 'early summer.' As the call of the hototogisu is rather sad, it was also interpreted as expressing the melancholy longing of the soul of a dead person. And as it was believed to sing until it coughed out blood, the modern haiku poet Masaoka Shiki who suffered from tuberculosis took "hototogisu" in the pronunciation "shiki" as his pen name...

In the above haiku, Shirao is traveling in the mountains where he hears the song of this bird. It is cloudy, so he cannot see the bird, but he can hear its clear song, as if welcoming him home.

[Statue of Sanada Yukimura, Ueno (Nagano)]

The following haiku is generally considered as Shirao's masterpiece.

    a sense of loneliness   
    when at dusk the lamps are lit
    and blossoms keep falling
   
    hito koishi | hitoboshi koro wo | sakura chiru

    人恋し火とぼしころを桜ちる

The poet is visiting Mr Yoshino in Nara prefecture, far from home, in the blossom season when Yoshino was (and is) a popular destination - the first cherry trees were apparently planted more than 1300 years ago, and today the mountain is covered by thousands of cherry trees.

It is early evening at the end of the blossom season. While the petals keep floating down, the first lamps are being lit, reminding the poet of his far-away home. Travelers will remember the melancholy feeling sometimes evoked by that particular time of day.

The first haiku stone stands in Ueda City at the spot where the house of Shirao's brother Yoshishige was located (1-7 Chuo-Nishi); the second one stands in Ueda Castle Park and the third one at the entrance to the park. The second stone was set up in 1919 by a haiku scholar, and is surprisingly completely written in Chinese characters; the other two date from 1990 when the city commemorated the 200th anniversary of the death of Shirao.

Ueda is easily reached by 90 min Shinkansen from Tokyo. The Castle Park is a 15-min walk from the station.

Information about Shirao and his haiku stones in Ueda was thankfully gleaned from the Kaya Shirao Homepage by "The Preservation Party in Memory of Shirao Kaya," where you will find more information about the poet, as well as translations of some of his haiku.

[The photos in this post are my own]

Index Haiku Travels

Haiku Travels (10): Basho and Mariko-juku

Haiku Travels

Mariko-juku (Shizuoka)

plum blossoms and young greens

in the post station of Mariko

soup of grated yam

  ume wakana / Mariko no shuku no / tororo-jiru

梅若菜丸子の宿のとろろ汁

Basho

[Mariko-juku by Hiroshige in The Fifty-three Stations of the Tokaido]

The Tokaido or Eastern Sea Route was the most important of the Five Routes of the Edo period, connecting Kyoto to Edo, and so named because it meandered along the sea coast of eastern Honshu. Also today the Todaido is still Japan's major route, but now traveled by Shinkansen trains and highways. The old Tokaido has mostly been buried beneath these modern developments, although there are a few spots (usually in the mountains, such as at Hakone) where the Old Tokaido can still be seen.

You'll be surprised how narrow it is: not more than a path, rather than a highway! That is because the standard method of travel was by foot - wheeled carts were almost nonexistent in Edo Japan and there were no stage coaches such as in premodern Europe. Luggage was carried by horses (heavy cargo was sent by boat over sea). Members of the higher class could, however, travel in a kago or litter, carried by two strong men. The more advanced of these litters could be closed so that the occupant would have privacy and be shielded from the stares of other travelers. The space in such a litter was however very cramped, so I doubt it was comfortable.

The Tokaido was divided into 53 post stations between the termination points of Kyoto and Edo, where travelers could rest, have a meal, or stay the night. As most travelers were men, some of these post stations had extensive geisha populations (as described in the literature of the period, such as the humorous novel Tokaidochu Hizakurige ("Shanks' Mare") by Jippensha Ikku. But there were also porter stations and horse stables, as well as government inns for official travelers, such as the daimyo feudal lords on their way between their domain in the provinces and Edo for the alternate one-year attendance at the court of the shogun (sankin kotai).

[Another depiction of the same scene by Hiroshige]

Mariko-juku was one of those 53 post stations on the Tokaido, the twentieth when counting from Edo to be exact, located in what is now part of the Suruga Ward in Shizuoka. Mariko was one of the smallest post stations, but also one of the most famous thanks to the provision of a local dish: tororo-jiru, or soup made from grated yam. This is an early instance of meibutsu, famous local dishes, which today have proliferated all over Japan. The classic Hiroshige ukiyo-e at the top of this article depicts two travelers enjoying the dish at a wayside restaurant called Chojiya.

Tororo-jiru is made by mixing grated wild yam with miso paste and dashi stock. Green laver (aonori) was also added and the dish was served with a boiled rice-barley mixture. It has a light taste and silky texture. Of course, it goes well with a cup of sake! The two eaters on the ukiyo-e could very well be Kitahachi and Yajirobei, the two protagonists from the above mentioned popular novel Shanks' Mare. The prints also include plum trees, thereby intentionally alluding to Basho's famous haiku.

[Chojiya in modern times - you can still have tororo-jiru here, the restaurant has been in continuous operation since 1596!]

There is little to add to the Basho haiku. The season is early spring. According to a short preface he added, Basho wrote this haiku for Kawai Otokuni, a disciple who came from Shiga prefecture and who was one of the famous "Omi merchants." With this haiku, Basho wishes him a pleasant and enjoyable trip down the Tokaido.

One remark about the ukiyo-e I have reproduced here: Japanese visual culture (including ukiyo-e) was not concerned with realistic depictions of certain views, but instead was focused on the intertextual relations between pictorial art and poetry. In other words, although the prints appear realistic due to the abundance of mundane details, they are in fact a mixture of artistic conventions stemming from the existing textual and pictorial depictions of the scene in question (combined, of course, with the creativity of the artist and the commercial strategy of the publisher - these ukiyo-e were a great advertisement for tororo-jiru!). Landscapes without any literary association were not depicted.

And a last remark about meibutsu: in the Edo period, meibutsu were classified as follows:

• simple souvenirs (such as swords from Kamakura or sea shells from Enoshima)
  
• gastronomic specialties such as the grated yam soup from Mariko
• amulets and other "supernatural" souvenirs (such as powders that were supposed to cure a vast number of illnesses)
  
• bizarre things that added a touch of the exotic to the location in question (such as the "fire-resistant" salamanders of Hakone)
• and finally the prostitutes who made such locations as Shinagawa, Fujisawa, Akasaka, Yoshida, etc., famous
  (Source: The Tokaido Road, Travelling and Representation in Edo and Meiji Japan, by Jilly Traganou, RoutledgeCurzon, 2004).
  

From the no 7 bus stop in front of Shizuoka Station, take a Shizutetsu bus bound for Fujieda Station and get off at Akamegaya, about 35 minutes from Shizuoka. A nice article about a walk through Mariko can be found on the Japan Today website.

Tokaidochu Hizakurige by Jippensha Ikku is available in a translation by Thomas Stachell called Shanks' Mare (Tuttle, my copy is from 1980)

[Photo of Chojiya: via Wikimedia Commons]

Index Haiku Travels