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).
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:
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...
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 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