Let us go back in time, a few centuries back, in the mid-17th century to be precise, to meet Matsuo Basho and embark on a journey to the interiors of Japan.
A fabulous poet, known for his Haikus, Basho wanders giving voice to nature, the moon, the earth, the seasons, the rain, the monkey, the dragonfly, the cicada, and everything that he observes.
He paints his dreams in the air; the flora breathes that air and blooms like a dream.
Let us go and learn this art from the master himself.
Falling sick on a journey
My dream goes wandering
Over a field of dried grass.
Basho has fallen sick, he is old now, this haiku is usually considered as his farewell poem, but our journey has just started, we need to travel back a few more years.
Teeth sensitive to the sand
In salad greens–
I’m getting old.
He is funny, oh, but let us keep going back in time for we need to learn the art of painting dreams in the air, remember. Stay focused!
The rough sea
Stretching out towards Sado
The Milky Way.
Sado is a city in Japan’s Sado Island and Basho travels there to witness the vast sea and the endless sky.
Look, at night the sea becomes a mirror for our galaxy.
Seasons come and go, each one is beautifully recorded in Japanese poetry; Kigo, the representation of and the reference to the seasons is still a part of Japanese culture and literature.
Different seasons, different Bashos –
First winter rain-
Even the monkey
Seems to want a raincoat.
Now then, let’s go out
To enjoy the snow … until
I slip and fall!
First cherry
Budding
By peach blossoms.
***
The summer grasses.
All that remains
Of warriors’ dreams.
Spring rain
Leaking through the roof
Dripping from the wasps’ nest.
***
Autumn moonlight-
A worm digs silently
Into the chestnut.
Basho, Basho, Basho… you have captured it, you just did, a moment in eternity.
Every worm digging every chestnut tree in every autumn in the cool moonlight is this very worm. It will be living forever now.
First day of spring–
I keep thinking about
The end of autumn.
***
Winter garden,
The moon thinned to a thread,
Insects singing.
“The moon thinned to a thread” yet beautiful and bright, busy telling stories.
Winter solitude–
In a world of one color
The sound of wind.
Such an arduous journey…
Taking a nap,
Feet planted
Against a cool wall.
…but Basho’s right, nature reassures us of what lies ahead… the balmy moon.
A field of cotton
As if the moon
Had flowered.
***
Moonlight slanting
Through the bamboo grove;
A cuckoo crying.
***
From time to time
The clouds give rest
To the moon-beholders.
“Can you hear it, the cicada, the dragonfly and the skylark? Free beings!” Yes, I can Basho, yes I can.
A cicada shell;
It sang itself
Utterly away.
***
Midfield,
Attached to nothing,
The skylark singing.
The dragonfly
Can’t quite land
On that blade of grass.
***
Stillness–
The cicada’s cry
Drills into the rocks.
We climb the mountain and reach an old village.
This old village–
Not a single house
Without persimmon trees.
After some rest, we now resume our journey. Oh, Basho is stopping again to sit by the pond, but why I am wondering?
Wait, is this the place where he will pen his most famous haiku that has occupied the minds of a legion of poets and critics… yes, it is.
An ancient pond
A frog jumps in
The splash of water.
I heard it too, the splash of water, you all must have heard it as well, somewhere, sometime… here, right now the frog’s jump turned the clock back, ending the journey, bringing me to the present.
That ancient pond of time glimmered with stories abound and I was in one, the frog living its routine life made me surrender to the present moment and splash, I returned back.
Basho’s work, what a wonderful portal to the enchanted dream that can be perceived anytime, by anyone…
Let me bid adieu to you all with another glorious haiku of his. Basho!
How admirable!
To see lightning and not think
Life is fleeting.
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