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Poem: “an arrangement of words in verse, expressing facts, ideas, or emotions in a style more concentrated, imaginative, and powerful than that of ordinary speech.” Verse: “sequence of words arranged metrically in accordance with some rule or design.” As I translated Basho’s letters, I was struck by certain passages which were especially “concentrated, imaginative, and powerful.” Also I arrange most of my translations in poetic lines, each line a grammatical unit; this is the “rule or design.” I believe, with Leonard Shlain (in Sex, Time, and Power) that the vertical succession of lines, as in a supermarket list, allows the brain to process the information holistically.
We begin with poetry from Basho’s letters to his childhood and lifelong friend Ensui in their hometown of Iga. I believe that Ensui, four years older than Basho, served as a mentor for young Basho. Basho was only 12 when his father died, and 18 or 19 year old Hanzaemon become head of the Matsuo family, too busy to hang with the young boy. Ensui may have become a "big brother" at this time. Basho's letters to Ensui express his special affection for this person who helped Basho become who he was.
In a 1688 letter to Ensui, Basho tells of parting from him a month before. Basho and his follower Tokoku were on a journey and passed through Nara which is only 18 miles from Iga. Ensui and another follower walked to Nara to spend time with the travelers before they continued their journey west. Basho writes:
Basho feels he can share Ensui’s experiences across the barriers of space because their two hearts have bonded since childhood. The poetry of this passage contains certain elements we find often in
his linked verse:
1) that special “poetic” feeling of twilight, evening or morning
2) mention of personal relations (wife, children, servants),
3) welcoming the traveler home
4) physical sensory experience (entering clear hot water)
5) specific body parts and activities (massaging swollen shins).
Each of these five elements, as well as a similar spirit, appear in the final paragraph of J.R.R Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings: Sam has parted from Frodo, as Ensui has parted from Basho, and returns to his home where his wife Rose and infant daughter Elanor welcome him home.
I have arranged Tolkien’s word in poetic lines to highlight the similarity to the passage from Basho’s letter to Ensui. Notice the twilight feeling, personal relations, welcoming home, and physical sensations and activities: “yellow light and fire…drew him in …set him in his chair… put Elanor in his lap…a deep breath” then spoken words. Basho would have appreciated Tolkien’s art.
Here, from another letter to Ensui in 1691, Basho recalls a cherry blossom viewing picnic in Iga long ago;
We pass through a gate in a fence covered with the noxious climber wireweed on our way to an old favorite cherry tree in full bloom. Attached to the tree a thin yet strong rope of hemp fibers holds nothing. The other end of the rope is tied to a dilapidated old house; the thatch at the center of the roof congeals into a solid water-proof mass, but around the edges can collapse. Again and again, Basho links his mind with Ensui’s through memories they share.
Scallions are green onions with long stem and almost bulbless root. Horsetails, tsukushi, are a spring plant with a top that looks like a round brush. And yes, taste does leave strong memories. In each one
of Basho’s letters to Ensui, he somewhere, mentions hometown foods.
The camera moves to the humanity eating these foods in this rustic place: two old friends at the party, one struggling to think of a serious poem, the other having lots of fun. Kyoya is a merchant in Iga. Hattori Doho, the leader of the Basho circle in Iga, is an Instructor in the martial art of the Spear (so you don’t want to mess with him), and the head of a family related to the master ninja Hattori Hanzo -- but he too seems like a fun guy.
Through a flow of images -- natural surroundings, specific details about the place, favorite foods, and old friends -- Basho encapsulates his and Ensui’s experience of their hometown. The passage is a masterpiece of stream-of-consciousness; we flow with Basho, through Basho’s mind, from a specific place in Iga, picnic space, cherry tree to laundry line to roof to scallions and horsetails, Kyoya, Doho, yearning for memories of long ago. This is Basho’s mind.
Here Basho sings of Ensui’s newborn granddaughter who Ensui in a haiku called a plum blossom “still emerging” from the bud.
The baby’s immaturity just shows that the best is yet to come. Basho experiences Ensui’s joy in his own chest. We cannot read this letter without feeling the warmth in Basho’s heart. He expresses it so clearly.
A year later Basho sends Ensui another poetic image of his granddaughter:
Bashoi wishes that this year the whole tree will become fragrant and colorful, as Ensui’s granddaughter who can now stand by herself goes out into the world. Again Basho transcends the distance between them, feeling Ensui’s love for his granddaughter in his own heart. He clearly, more clearly than any other male writer, affirms the worth of the infant female.
Eloquent is the poetry in Basho’s letters to his young samurai follower Kyokusui who lived in Zeze on the shore of Lake Biwa. After two years in the Kansai area, often in Zeze, Basho left to return to Edo in winter of 1691. Here from an inn in Okazaki, east of Nagoya, on the way, he looks back on his time in Zeze:
Basho goes on to tell his feelings upon receiving letters from Kyokusui and another follower Shado in Zeze:
Basho means “your kindness enabled that hospitality”
Three years later, on his death bed, Basho requested that he be buried in Zeze at Gichuji Temple,
where he remains today.
The next spring, Basho wrote another letter to Kyokusui in which he portrays three types of poet: one,
and two,
and then a third type:
Like a musical riff, each of four phrases contains an active lively verb, an internal body image, and the name of famous poet, to suggest the poet exploring deep down under the surface.
Basho means “just about everywhere” but he expresses this with many extra – unnecessary but interesting – images; each of these images calls up pictures. So we say the passage is poetry. Basho mentions his distaste for “poetry-gambling” in which poets competed against each other to win points, and poets made their living as contest judges.
Poetry in Basho letters is sometimes rough, critical, and even hostile.
Why in letters to this widow lady in her sixties does Basho write so much about intimate body parts?
Basho counts the days he is free from his chronic disease – Really? Exactly 53! In a letter to a woman, he tells the condition of his bowels; now that’s personal!
Basho speaks of the yome, Chigetsu’s daughter-in-law who came to this household decades ago. Without Abigail Adams to remind him, Basho “remembers the ladies.”
Seven months ago, Basho parted from Chigetsu in Zeze; he says the time apart from her is both reality and a dream.
The following tanka appears in one of Basho’s three letters to his woman follower Uko. He recalls when he stayed at her house, she performed the tea ceremony for her guest, and allowed Basho to sleep in the same room with her and her husband.
Uko sent Basho a present, a cushion she designed and sewed to fit around his hips while he sits to keep them warm this coming winter.
In the p.s. to the 1690 letter, Basho called Uko’s daughter “Tei.” In her letter with the hip cushion Uko must have used the correct name, so in this letter Basho gets it right. If Sai was one then, in the year past she has entered the ‘terrible twos,’ that period when every waking moment is devoted to proving independence from mama, and the child is first able to have effects on the world. Japanese women today say the same about 2 or 3 year olds (otonashiku natta deshō).
p.s. to 1691 Letter to Uko
Chigetsu must have told Basho she got a letter from Uko. He praises the gentleness of woman, and also the solidarity of women. He seems to be building bridges between these two women followers.
Two days before his life ended in Osaka on November 28th,1694, Shiko helped Basho sit up, and he was able to write a final letter in his own hand to his 6-or-7 year older brother Hanzaemon who led the way in the Matsuo family of six children.
Mataemon was the son of Oyoshi, Hanzaemon and Basho’s little sister, adopted by Hanzaemon to inherit the household. The same day, Basho dictated his will to Shiko, mostly final messages to folks in Edo, and counted as Basho’s final letter. Here is one message to his patron who supported him both financially and spiritually and enabled Basho’s work.
Sampu lived for 28 years after Basho’s death, and I am sure that every time he thought about poetry, he remembered Basho’s final words to him.
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The Three Thirds of Basho