Basho - Poet of the Month

Matsuo Basho is one of my favourite poets of all time (after Ryokan), and is best known for the trouble he had reconciling his fame with his spiritual side. By the time of his death in 1694, Basho was already revered for rejuvenating the hokku form, still in its infancy as a standalone Japanese poetic model, which was expiring from artificiality in the hands of thematic rulesmiths such as Soin and Saikaku, whose wordplays and common-man appeal were prevalent. Though poetically skilled in this respect, both men lacked a certain poetic beauty in their verse that allowed Basho to create, thanks in part to his Zen learning (Basho was a Zen monk), a serious and aesthetic style that became popular as Basho's paradigm status was cemented.

Basho's haibun - poetry infused with prose - travelogues are equally famous. The best known is undoubtedly The Narrow Road to the Deep North, but others (some just as eloquent) exist. One of my favourites is the short travelogue 'A Visit to Sarashina Village', which contains the beautiful opening sentence; "The autumn wind inspired my heart with a desire to see the rise of the full moon over Mount Obasute."

Rather than write at length about my favourite aspects of Basho's poetry or prose, I have decided instead to post a few poems I've copied out of a wonderful volume entitled 'On Love and Barley - Haiku of Basho', as translated beautifully by Lucien Stryk. The final poem is the last Basho ever wrote, and is in effect his death poem.


You the butterfly -
I, Chuang Tzu's
dreaming heart.


Sound of rapids -
silent yellow petals
of the mountain rose.


Octopus traps -
summer's moonspun dreams,
soon ended.


Come, see real
flowers
of this painful world.


Chestnuts of Kiso -
mementoes for
the floating world.


Friends part
forever - wild geese
lost in cloud.


Mad with poetry,
I stride like Chikusai
into the wind.


Sick on a journey -
over parched fields
dreams wander on.