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Showing posts with label Poet: Matsuo Basho. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poet: Matsuo Basho. Show all posts

Untitled -- Matsuo Basho

Guest poem sent in by Jeffrey Sean Huo , who writes

Related somewhat to the current theme, I would like to offer the following
haiku from Matsuo Basho's _Oku_no_Hosomichi_ :
(Poem #1259) Untitled
 The summer grasses
 All that remains
 Of brave soldiers dreams
-- Matsuo Basho
           From Station (Chapter) 23, "Hiraizumi"

The transliterated original:

  natsukusa ya
  tsuwamonodomo go
  yume no ato

----

A biography of Basho has appeared previously (#802, "Haiku"); I'd instead
like today to talk about _Oku_no_Hosomichi_ and the context for this poem in
particular.

Decades of brutal civil war had ended almost a century earlier at the
decisive battle of Sekigahara; and the shogunate that Tokugawa Ieyasu
established at Edo (now Tokyo) was firmly entrenched by the time Basho began
writing the _Oku_no_Hosomichi_. Edo was fast becoming a great city by the
end of the seventeenth century, but the lands surrounding were still
relatively wild. It was the sights of the region of Tohoku in Northeastern
Japan that Basho set out to explore in 1689. The three months he spent
wandering through the mountains and valleys of Tohoku became the basis for
_Oku_no_Hosomichi_, "Narrow Road to the Deep North". This collection of
Basho's essays and haiku has become regarded as one of the great literary
works of the Japanese language. One of the places Basho visited was
Hiraizumi.

Hiraizumi was the setting in which, centuries earlier, one of the great
heroic tragedies of Japanese history had its bitter end. Centuries before
the battle at Sekigahara, a prior, equally brutal civil war was fought
between the forces led by the Taira and the Minamoto clans. The stories of
this time were collected in the epic _Heike_Monogatari_ (The Tale of the
Heike), and include many of Japan's most famous samurai legends. And among
the great warriors on both sides, Minamoto Yoshitsune was regarded as one
of the most brilliant and brave.

At the height of the battle of Ichi-no-Tani Yoshitsune and his cavalry
charged like a storm straight down a previously-thought impassable cliff and
broke the enemy; at the battle of Yashima, Yoshitsune led his men in a
daring headlong assault across a sea-channel at low tide to drive his enemy
literally into the ocean; and at the final sea battle at Dan no Ura,
Yoshitsune crushed the Taira utterly, the last lords of the Taira throwing
themselves into the sea to avoid capture. Yoshitsune's bravery and skill won
the civil war for the Minamoto. Yoshitsune's reward was betrayal.

Yoshitsune's lord, Yoritomo, had become increasingly paranoid that
Yoshitsune's prowess constituted a threat to Yoritomo's own rule. Yoshitsune
protested his loyalty to the Minamoto family and to Yoritomo himself in the
famous "Koshigoe Letter". But treason and slander won the day, and the brave
Yoshitsune was forced to flee for his life. Pursued and hounded, Yoshitsune
was finally cornered. Even Yoshitsune's death was legendary: Yoshitsune
calmly committed seppuku (samurai ritual suicide) in an interior room while
his oldest friend, the giant warrior-monk Benkei (Japan's "Little John")
single-handedly held the door against vastly outnumbering enemy troops. The
place where Benkei and Yoshitsune made their final stand was Hiraizumi, and
it was in this context that Basho composed a number of haiku, including the
one above.

Basho is believed to have chosen the Japanese word 'natsukusa', in reference
to the muggy, slimy, rank muck that summer's oppressive humidity and heat
turn the grasses of spring into, an appropriate vision, perhaps, of the
chaos and treachery of war. By the time Basho visited Hiraizumi centuries
later, those dank overgrown weeds were all that remained of the fortress in
which Yoshitsune made his final stand. As Basho himself comments in the
_Oku_no_Hosomichi_:

  "The select band of loyal retainers who entrenched themselves here in this
  High Fort and fought so desperately - their glorious deeds lasted but a
  moment, and now this spot is overgrown with grass...We sat down upon our
  straw hats and wept, oblivious of the passing time."

The sentiments Basho expresses in the Haiku have deep meaning, even
(especially!) today. But for me, there is a deeper truth contained in the
haiku and the greater story it is a part of. Yoshitsune's betrayal was only
made possible by the cowardice, greed, or perfidy of many petty lords and
scheming officals who turned on Yoshitsune in order to benefit or protect
their own positions. They are all forgotten. But even as the poets and
storytellers --like Basho-- mourned Yoshitsune's death, in doing so they
kept his memory alive, such that today almost all Japanese know Benkei and
Yoshitsune as Europeans know Leonidas at Thermopylae; and in that sense,
Benkei and Yoshitsune have become immortal. The dreams of the brave live on.

-Jeff

Matsushima -- Matsuo Basho

The story goes that back in the 17th century, a grand poetry contest was
held in Matsushima, one of the most scenic spots in all of Japan. Hundreds
of poets submitted entries praising Matsushima's sweeping bay, the islands
dotted with pine trees, and the mountains rising majestically in the
background. The winner, though, was the renowned Haiku master Basho, who
wrote this poem:
(Poem #1021) Matsushima
 O Matsushima!
 O Matsushima!
 O Matsushima!
-- Matsuo Basho
Sometimes, words are just not enough.

thomas.

[Minstrels Links]

Basho:
Poem #23, Haiku - Old pond
Poem #57, Haiku - Scent of plum blossoms
Poem #802, Haiku - Snowy morning

Buson:
Poem #277, Haiku - The winter river
Poem #712, Haiku - The seashore temple
Poem #908, Haiku - Departing spring

Others:
Poem #87, Two Tanka -- Otomo No Yakamochi
Poem #198, Japanese Jokes -- Peter Porter
Poem #982, What We Heard About the Japanese -- Rachel Rose

Haiku -- Matsuo Basho

Guest poem submitted by Rachel Granfield:
(Poem #802) Haiku
 Snowy morning--
 one crow
 after another.
-- Matsuo Basho
Trans. Lucien Stryk.

I have to say, it was difficult to pick one haiku over the rest in my book
of Basho. I decided on this one because it exemplifies one of my favorite
characteristics of Basho, his ability to create a vivid, lingering image
with incredible economy of words. I'm not hard-core enough to have this poem
in the original Japanese, but anyone who does, please do write in.

My minimal biographical information on this poet: he was born near Kyoto in
1644 and studied the art of haiku in his youth. At the age of 23 he moved to
Edo (now Tokyo) and continued to write. Later in life he became a recluse,
although he would sometimes travel to temples and the homes of other poets.
Along with his poetry, he is also noted for his travel diaries. Basho was
strongly influenced by the philosophies of Zen Buddhism. He died in 1694.

Rachel.

Haiku -- Matsuo Basho

Since it's that time of year...
(Poem #56) Haiku
scent of plum blossoms
on the misty mountain path
a big rising sun
-- Matsuo Basho
(For an exposition on the haiku form, see the Minstrels, poem #23
(another Basho))

We're in the middle of cherry blossom season here in Japan, and the
country is going through its annual bout of spring fever. To understand
why, it helps to know a bit of Japanese history...

In 1600, Tokugawa Ieyasu put an end to several hundred years of constant
fighting among Japan's feudal (and feuding) lords, and established
himself as the first Shogun (I think the word means
'commander-in-chief', but I'm not sure). This marked the beginning of
the Edo period of Japanese history - although the Emperor still
nominally ruled the country from his palace in Kyoto, the real power was
centred in the eastern city of Edo (modern day Tokyo).

During the Edo period, the upper classes were bound by a rigid code of
honour. The heads of noble families (the 'daimyo') were obliged to spend
half of every year in Edo, and the other half in their personal fiefs;
their wives and children, however, were forced to remain in the capital,
courtesy the 'hospitality' of the Shogun. The ruinous expenditures of
shifting residence every six months, coupled with the fact that their
families were virtual hostages of the ruler, meant that the daimyo were
never able to mount a successful challenge against the authority of the
Shogun, and the system remained stable (and completely isolated from the
outside world) for over 250 years.

It was during this period that the Samurai rose to prominence.
Originally the armed retainers of the daimyo, it was recognized (most
shrewdly, by the Shoguns) that they were the real wielders of power in
what was essentially a medieval society. The Samurai developed their own
code of honour, in which loyalty and stoicism played prominent roles;
this code has survived virtually unchanged to this date, and it forms an
important part of modern Japanese society and culture.

So, where does the sakura feature in all of this? Over time, the humble
cherry blossom became a symbol of the Samurai and their code - starkly
beautiful, short-lived, and glorious in death. When the Shogunate was
finally overthrown in 1868 and the Emperor Meiji was restored to the
throne, cherry trees all over Japan were cut down - the Emperor (a
modernising nationalist) wanted no reminders of the feudal past to
remain. Today, though, the sakura tree has regained its place in the
national consciousness, and every spring, the Japanese indulge
themselves in an orgy of celebration when the delicate pink blossoms
finally make their appearance after a cold and bare winter. The time is
right to go to a park, spread out a mat, drink sake, and do hanami
('hana' = flower, 'mi' = see).

You know what? I think I'll do just that, come the weekend :-)

thomas.

PS. For those of you utterly beyond redemption, here's the Japanese
original:

ume ga ka ni
notto hinoderu
yamaji kana

PPS. I think I digressed a bit from the actual 'poetic' content of
today's haiku. Suffice to say that I find it intensely evocative - the
image in my mind is that of saffron-clad Buddhist monks in a temple as
old as the hills, ringing a deep gong to welcome the sunrise, while
pilgrims from afar walk up the mountain paths through a carpet of fallen
blossoms...

Haiku -- Matsuo Basho

It's about time I did something Japanese, so...
(Poem #23) Haiku
old pond.....
a frog leaps in
water's sound
-- Matsuo Basho
translated by William J. Higginson.

This is the most famous and most commonly recited haiku in Japanese;
most Westerners, though, are utterly bewildered by it. I confess that I
can't make out what it's about either, so I'll content myself with
sending you a whole bunch of extracts from various sources.

About Haiku:

Haiku is a poetic form which takes nature in each season as its theme
and expresses inspiration derived from nature. Since the natural world
transforms itself swiftly and since inspiration is fleeting, they must
be caught in words quick, short and precise. The traditional rules for
haiku are that each verse uses seven or eight words, a total of only
seventeen rhythmical syllables (5-7- 5), including a season word. In
diction haiku values simple words over obscure and difficult ones.

Students learn Japanese Haiku in Japanese language class usually during
the fall term of high school. They study the great Haiku poets of the
past 300 years. In Matsuyama they study the modern poets too (1993 was
considered the 100th anniversary of modern Haiku poetry and 1994 is the
300th anniversary of Basho's death). The opportunity to write Haiku in
English is a novel idea for many Japanese. In a second language, the
rigid rules of form and specific words can be relaxed.

The best Haiku is clearly written; without metaphor, personification and
other literary devices. Simple, clear images written in their shortest
form possible but arranged so the words last as long as possible in the
mind is the power of Haiku. It can be easily understood from the direct
words, but these words often contain a stronger message that has to be
searched for. A significant image is produced. Haiku speaks in parables
of life.

About today's poem:

Matsuo Basho (1644 - 1694) was a leading haiku master and is known
throughout the world.

On a misty rainy day he was walking alone. It was very quiet around an
old pond of mossy water, then a frog just leapt into it making a little
sound. The momentary action and the lingering sound reminded him of the
wonder of a moment and eternity. He composed that famous haiku:

     furuike ya
     kawazu tobikomu
     mizu no oto

In this haiku, 'ya ' is a technical haiku-cutting word (kireji). It does
not have specific meaning but it is used to arrange Japanese syllables
and express subtle or sometimes deep feelings and an exclamation or an
interjection.

[you can think of 'ya' as being equivalent to 'stop' or 'behold' in
English - t.]

An essay:

'On ants and poets'

When ten poets each endeavour to write about an ant, the result should
be ten different ant haiku. If any of these haiku resemble another, the
poet has only been observing the ant superficially or has based their
haiku on their preconceptual image of an ant. Let us look not at our
ants but rather into them. Surely the ant will speak to us. Ah!! Now
quickly write down what caused that feeling of discovery. This is your
ant and yours alone. Your "ant" must now be expressed in a fixed poetic
form. In Japanese a count of 17 syllables (5,7,5) is used. This
expression should be in your own words, as they come naturally to you.
If your haiku has captured a Truth, there is no need to decorate your
poem with flowery words. One should, however, keep in mind some of the
main characteristics of haiku.

1. To state without stating. In order to say ten things a haiku presents
only two. Due to its length, every word is of the utmost importance.
2. A haiku is like a cross-section which gives the observer a new
perspective and restimulates their thoughts on the object as a whole.
3. When juxtaposing one must be careful that the two elements do not fit
together too well. Their relationship must be "surprising".
4. Seasonal words (kigo) are very important to haiku. However in the
modern world where the seasons have lost much of their omnipotency and
where we wish to share our haiku internationally a more relaxed stance
on kigo may be called for. Kigo need not necessarily place a haiku in
any particular season but could rather be included simply to relate the
haiku to the natural world.

One cannot make good haiku simply by going about one's life in a
day-to-day fashion. It is necessary to hone one's senses to the world
around one and take an interest in all things great and small.

 -  Yoko Sugawa

And another essay (written in the most wonderful Japanese English):

What a short life cherry blossoms have! The miserable April rain and
wind blew them off, and now fresh green willows are whispering with
azaleas on the water of the castle moat. Here comes early summer. In the
blue sky, carp are swimming. Wonderful weather! It will soon rain.
Everything is changing in this world, but still how small we remain. As
long as we are alive, we have to recognize the transience of our life,
then we experience a moment that something attracts us, and when we see
changing nature, when we watch people, maybe, sometimes, we want to
express that feeling or impression. It is that moment when we can
compose a Haiku.

thomas.