Haiku Travels
Suma Temple (Kobe)
Suma temple -
hearing the unblown flute
in the shade of the trees
Sumadera ya | fukanu fue kiku | koshita yami
須磨寺やふかぬ笛きく木下やみ
Basho
[Suma temple]
Until not so long ago, Suma bay, west of Kobe, was one of the most famous scenic spots in ancient Japan, a landscape characterized by pine trees and white sandy beaches. Suma is already an important poetic subject in the 8th century Manyoshu anthology and is also the name of a chapter in the Genji Monogatari. Since the Heian-period, the beach has been poetically associated with the full moon of autumn. Apparently, it was quite a lonely place that inspired susceptible visitors to a melancholy mood. 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. On top of that, Suma was the location of a dramatic battle of the Taira-Minamoto wars of 1180-85, later celebrated in the Heike Monogatari. Basho traveled here in 1688 in search of those poetic allusions on his Knapsack Notebook trip.
Basho gives a description of Suma in the last part of his travel diary Knapsack Notebook (Oi no kobumi). The essence of Suma Bay, its sadness and loneliness, was to be appreciated most of all in autumn. Suma was famous for the moon of that season. Basho visited Suma in early summer and although he viewed the moon, it was not the famous, full moon of autumn. Therefore, a very important aspect was lacking, as if there was no moon at all. In a humorous tribute to the locus genii of Suma, Basho wrote (the second haiku may be an earlier version of the first one):
the moon is here
yet seems absent
summer in Suma
tsuki wa aredo | rusu no yo nari | Suma no natsu
月はあれど留守のやう也須磨の夏
though viewing the moon
something is lacking
summer in Suma
tsuki mite mo | mono tarawazu ya | Suma no natsu
月見ても物たらはずや須磨の夏
Basho gives a description of Suma in the last part of his travel diary Knapsack Notebook (Oi no kobumi). The essence of Suma Bay, its sadness and loneliness, was to be appreciated most of all in autumn. Suma was famous for the moon of that season. Basho visited Suma in early summer and although he viewed the moon, it was not the famous, full moon of autumn. Therefore, a very important aspect was lacking, as if there was no moon at all. In a humorous tribute to the locus genii of Suma, Basho wrote (the second haiku may be an earlier version of the first one):
the moon is here
yet seems absent
summer in Suma
tsuki wa aredo | rusu no yo nari | Suma no natsu
月はあれど留守のやう也須磨の夏
though viewing the moon
something is lacking
summer in Suma
tsuki mite mo | mono tarawazu ya | Suma no natsu
月見ても物たらはずや須磨の夏
[Suma beach]
There were other things not quite right in Suma, too. The disappointment of modern travelers (Suma has long since lost its allure to highways and land reclamation) seems already foreshadowed in Basho's haiku. In ancient poetry, centuries before Basho's time, the beach of Suma had been celebrated for its salt making (by boiling sea water in pots), but this custom had apparently disappeared. He found that there was no distinctive local trade left in the villages on the coast. On the contrary, the conduct of the fishermen of Suma was rather rude, and different from the poetic reputation of the place:
is it crying from an arrow
shot by the fishers of Suma?
hototogisu
is it crying from an arrow
shot by the fishers of Suma?
hototogisu
Suma no ama no | yasaki ni naku ka | hototogisu
須磨のあまの矢先に鳴か郭公
The fishermen would catch small fish (kisu) in their nets and dry them on the beach, where the catch could easily become the prey of crows. The fishermen used to scare away the crows by shooting arrows at them. Basho was shocked at this rude practice: killing birds was not what fishermen were supposed to do. Perhaps, he muses, it was a remnant of the bloody battle between the Genji and Heike that had taken place here in the past. But for Basho this destroyed the elegance Suma as found in classical literature.
The hototogisu, or lesser cuckoo, has a gentle call and is one of the best loved Japanese song birds. As it arrives around May in Japan, it is considered the harbinger of early summer, and it has inspired many poets. Basho seems to imply that the fishers who are wildly shooting their arrows at the crows, may inadvertently have hit a hototogisu...
[Suma temple]
Now to the explanation of the haiku at the top of this page, for which we have to delve into the history of Suma temple and the Genji-Heike wars.
Suma temple is one of the oldest temples in the Kobe area and still very popular with worshipers. It belongs to Shingon Buddhism and is dedicated to Kannon, the Bodhisattva of Mercy. The extensive grounds are full to the brim with monuments, from haiku stones to quaint Buddhas and Jizos, modern memorials and statues. It is veritable storehouse of historical, literary and popular religious lore.
Not far from Suma temple is Ichinotani, the site of a famous battle that took place in 1184, during the civil strife between the Genji and Heike. Coming from Suma beach, Basho has to walk over a narrow ridge, skirting fearful precipices. Ichinotani is the valley where the Heike forces had made quarter, thinking themselves safe because of its steep ridges. However, the Genji commander Yoshitsune performed the incredible feat of leading a small band of horsemen in a surprise attack down the vertical cliff walls. By this bold tactic, he annihilated the numerically superior Heike forces. In his Knapsack Notebook Basho paints a scene of great confusion: to escape the onslaught, the courtly Heike scramble to their boats on the beach.
[Statues of Atsumori and Kumagai in the grounds of Suma temple. ]
Many other, smaller battles were also fought and Basho's haiku alludes to the most famous of these. Kumagai Jiro Naozane (1141-1208), a Genji warrior, sees the fleeing Heike run to their boats. Riding on the beach, he is eager to challenge one of their generals. He then spots a fine-looking warrior who is about to urge his horse into the sea toward one of the boats. Naozane attacks and in the ensuing fight, he finally manages to wrestle his strong adversary to the ground and remove the helmet to cut off his head.
To his surprise, he sees a sixteen year old boy before him, and reminded of his own son, hesitates to deal the final blow. The young courtier refuses to give his name. Just when Naozane is about to spare him, a band of his comrades comes riding along and now he has no choice anymore. Suppressing his tears, he strikes off the young boy's head. Naozane is so unnerved at the necessary cruelty of war, that he later renounces the world and becomes a Buddhist priest.
After Naozane has wrapped the head in a cloth, he finds a flute tucked in the boy's sash. He has indeed heard the sound of a flute from the Heike camp and wondered at the gentleness of these courtiers - in contrast, he himself, like the other Genji warriors, is from rough-and-ready provincial samurai stock. Later he learns that the young warrior he has killed is Taira no Atsumori (1169-1184); the flute was a prized family possession, originally a gift from Emperor Toba.
The small museum of Suma Temple exhibits this very flute. Atsumori's flute later became the subject of a tanka poem containing the conceit that the flute, though not being played anymore, can still be heard through the ages. Basho deftly uses this conceit in his own haiku.
To his surprise, he sees a sixteen year old boy before him, and reminded of his own son, hesitates to deal the final blow. The young courtier refuses to give his name. Just when Naozane is about to spare him, a band of his comrades comes riding along and now he has no choice anymore. Suppressing his tears, he strikes off the young boy's head. Naozane is so unnerved at the necessary cruelty of war, that he later renounces the world and becomes a Buddhist priest.
After Naozane has wrapped the head in a cloth, he finds a flute tucked in the boy's sash. He has indeed heard the sound of a flute from the Heike camp and wondered at the gentleness of these courtiers - in contrast, he himself, like the other Genji warriors, is from rough-and-ready provincial samurai stock. Later he learns that the young warrior he has killed is Taira no Atsumori (1169-1184); the flute was a prized family possession, originally a gift from Emperor Toba.
The small museum of Suma Temple exhibits this very flute. Atsumori's flute later became the subject of a tanka poem containing the conceit that the flute, though not being played anymore, can still be heard through the ages. Basho deftly uses this conceit in his own haiku.
[Atsumori's tomb]
Basho visited Suma temple on 20 April, 1688. The stone inscribed with his haiku sits in the garden in front of the temple office.
Suma Temple is a 10 min. walk from Sumadera station on the Sanyo railway line; or 15 min. from Suma station (the next, but larger station) on the same line. Entrance free. The temple's "Genpei garden" contains the horseback statues of Atsumori and Kumagai (see photo above).Atsumori's tomb is two stations by Sanyo railway line from the temple, at Suma-ura Koen station. The tomb is along the highway, to the right coming out of the station, only a two minute walk.
Atsumori has become the subject of a famous Noh play (rights-free Arthur Waley translation). Two related plays are Ikuta Atsumori (Arthur Waley translation) and Tadanori. Atsumori and Tadanori have been translated by Royall Tyler in Japanese No Dramas (Penguin Classics).
Website (English) of Sumadera.
Sumadera on the website of the Osaka Convention and Tourism Bureau.
When visiting Sumadera, also drop in at nearby Suma Rikyu Park.
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)
The Tale of the Heike has been expertly translated by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford Univ Press, 1994). Another good translation (as poetry) is by Royall Tyler (Penguin Classics, 2014)
The photos in this post are my own.