The only substantial
collection in English
of Basho's renku, tanka,
letters and spoken word
along with his haiku, travel
journals, and essays.
The only poet in old-time
literature who paid attention with praise
to ordinary women, children, and teenagers
in hundreds of poems
Hundreds upon hundreds of Basho works
(mostly renku)about women, children,
teenagers, friendship, compassion, love.
These are resources we can use to better
understand ourselves and humanity.
Interesting and heartfelt
(not scholarly and boring)
for anyone concerned with
humanity.
“An astonishing range of
social subject matter and
compassionate intuition”
"The primordial power
of the feminine emanating
from Basho's poetry"
Hopeful, life-affirming
messages from one of
the greatest minds ever.
Through his letters,
we travel through his mind
and discover Basho's
gentleness and humanity.
I plead for your help in
finding a person or group
to take over my 3000 pages of Basho material,
to edit and improve the material, to receive 100%
of royalties, to spread Basho’s wisdom worldwide
and preserve for future generations.
Quotations from Basho Prose
The days and months are
guests passing through eternity.
The years that go by
also are travelers.
The mountains in silence
nurture the spirit;
the water with movement
calms the emotions.
All the more joyful,
all the more caring
Seek not the traces
of the ancients;
seek rather the
places they sought.
Basho Spoken Word
Only this, apply your heart
to what children do
"The attachment to Oldness
is the very worst disease
a poet can have."
“The skillful have a disease;
let a three-foot child
get the poem"
"Be sick and tired
of yesterday’s self."
"This is the path of a fresh
lively taste with aliveness
in both heart and words."
.
"In poetry is a realm
which cannot be taught.
You must pass through it
yourself. Some poets have made
no effort to pass through, merely
counting things and trying
to remember them.
There was no passing
through the things."
"In verses of other poets,
there is too much making
and the heart’s
immediacy is lost.
What is made from
the heart is good;
the product of words
shall not be preferred."
"We can live without poetry,
yet without harmonizing
with the world’s feeling
and passing not through
human feeling, a person
cannot be fulfilled. Also,
without good friends,
this would be difficult."
"Poetry benefits
from the realization
of ordinary words."
"Many of my followers
write haiku equal to mine,
however in renku is the
bone marrow of this old man."
"Your following stanza
should suit the previous one as an expression
of the same heart's connection."
"Link verses the way
children play."
"Make renku
ride the Energy.
Get the timing wrong,
you ruin the rhythm."
"The physical form
first of all must be graceful
then a musical quality
makes a superior verse."
"As the years passed
by to half a century.
asleep I hovered
among morning clouds
and evening dusk,
awake I was astonished
at the voices of mountain
streams and wild birds."
“These flies sure enjoy
having an unexpected
sick person.”
Haiku of Humanity
Drunk on sake
woman wearing haori
puts in a sword
Night in spring
one hidden in mystery
temple corner
Wrapping rice cake
with one hands she tucks
hair behind ear
On Life's journey
plowing a small field
going and returning
Child of poverty
hulling rice, pauses to
look at the moon
Tone so clear
the Big Dipper resounds
her mallet
Huddling
under the futon, cold
horrible night
Jar cracks
with the ice at night
awakening
Basho Renku
Masterpieces
With her needle
in autumn she manages
to make ends meet
Daughter playing koto
reaches age seven
After the years
of grieving. . . finally
past eighteen
Day and night dreams of
Father in that battle
Now to this brothel
my body has been sold
Can I trust you
with a letter I wrote,
mirror polisher?
Only my face
by rice-seedling mud
is not soiled
Breastfeeding on my lap
what dreams do you see?
Single renku stanzas
Giving birth to
love in the world, she
adorns herself
Autumn wind
saying not a word
child in tears
Among women
one allowed to lead
them in chorus
Easing in
her slender forearm
for his pillow
Two death poems:
On a journey taken ill
dreams on withered fields
wander about
Clear cascade -
into the ripples fall
green pine needles
The following stanza fits in with the previous one,
and along with that, it stands out to the eyes,making the verse lively.
While scholars say Basho’s poetry was “dominated by subdued, withered images,” his renku abound with color and liveliness
As I looked into the person in the previous stanza, I considered what sort of individual this would be, then gave him a human character.
Basho: the poet of humanity.
Even in dreamssake 7:11
gives me a hangover
Native place forgotten yet my horse goes clip clop
The crying child’s face is such a mess
Renting a room 7: 15 they make no fire to boil rice
With only a whisper 7: 35 hair dresser departs
In dyer’s shop all sorts of material scattered about
Winter solstice on porch my desperation for love!
No matter how 7: 36 I make up and dress he gazes not back
For some coolness kids go naked and wait for moon to rise
Straw mats their shields 7: 46 they run and jump about
“Are you asleep?” strange that the dog’s tail keeps its shape
In the moonlight among O-Bon lanterns, time to weep
Autumn wind more slender 7: 50 than strands of her hair
Mixed bathing in a Suwa hot spring twilight dim,
Among them a tall 7: 69 mountain ascetic
From slender threads love becomes intense -
Though my thoughts 7: 70 are of love, “eat something!” she commands me
When a pilgrim dies shimmers rise from path
More than any, 7: 72 the reality of a butterfly is so pathetic
From too much rice wine bald his head has become
At the eyes 7: 74 of dice he does stare in the twilight
------------------------------------
Well, well. . . I sit on earthen floor with no fleas
My name is a joke 7: 75 in my native place
Deciding not to take 7:77 the doctor’s medicine
As cherries bloom wandering place to place in Yoshino mountains
Market town above the smell of things summer moon
“So hot, so very hot” 7: 95 voices at every gate
Second weeding still undone, grain heads now emerging - Striking the ashes from single dried salmon
In these parts 7: 96 silver coins are unknown, damn it all!
Absurdly long sword hanging from his waist Evening dusk startled by a frog in thick grass
To pick buds of coltsfoot 7: 97 lantern shaken goes out
.
Her devotion arosewhen blossoms were in bud On the Noto Peninsula winter life is so hard
Toothless gums 7: 98 into old age gnawing on a fish bone
He lets her lover in lock on mansion gate -
Leaning against the screen, bunch of maids knock it over –
Wretched the bathroom’s 7: 99 bamboo floorboards
Evening storm blows down the fragrant seeds of fennel
Monkey showman 7: 100 through world with monkey autumn moon
So so many changes have occurred in my love affairs
In this floating world 7: 105 all end as Komachi
For what reason? given rice gruel to sip eyes fill with tears
On straw mat we are stuck with unsold market greens
Crawling child manages 7: 139 to snatch rice from tray
In her haste nowhere can she find the lamp oil
She steps on his boil 7: 140 so parting is wretched
Chattering about things the faces of farm wives
Smell of garlic 7: 143 cannot be approached yet still in love
Weak from excess heat July in mosquito net
Traces of leech bites, 7: 152 scratching feels so good
A love affair on this day of rest may I forget
Convenience on a journey 7: 155 daybreak lantern is placed
How depressing: the wisdom of women is so fleeting
His carriage pulls in the neighbor’s gateway
“Fickle one, 7: 174 under hedge of spikes you must crawl!”
Now, before he leaves, she hands him his sword
Sick and tired of him playing around with other women, she has closed her front gateway (double meaning alert). He parks his vehicle in the neighbor’s spot to enter a side door. Between the two properties stands a hedge of a tall citrus scrub whose branches divide into twigs ending in inch-long daggers. She thinks “If you want me, suffer as much pain as you caused me!!” He passed through the ordeal, and they slept together. A samurai always carries his sword – except in bed. In the morning, she hands him the “sword” which is the manhood he lost last night crawling on the dirt like a worm. He crawls back under the hedge to his carriage and leaves. The cycle is complete.
Unseen by all now and then I cry thinking of love
Tonight too boat rocking 7: 183 shakes me from a dream
Walking about hired to do laundry her lowly work
She resents the snarling cries of cats fighting
High on top, 7: 197 low on bottom, how love is done
Plum blossoms, young greens, 7: 207 at Mariko post station tororo yam paste
My new hat of sedge daybreak in springtime
Daffodils and 7: 210 the white paper windows eachother reflect
Only this charcoal fire is winter entertainment
With one sleeve missing, winter shower gets inside robe
Four or five sons 7: 211 barking in a ruckus
Evening dusk, going back for the pipe he left behind
Rice maidens for fun 7: 238 throw mud at each other
Stone Buddhas without features missing there are none
After having measles 7: 241 traces are a benefit
One foot at a time succession of old sandals replaced by new
Due date approaching, her light carefree face – No time to talk at neighborhood well about fickle men
Thread seller as guest 7: 255 departs the morning after
Her semblance of power pebbles thrown in vain
Among women 7: 257 one allowed to lead them in chorus
This morning I found 7: 267 a strand of white hair
Year after year lined up under blossoms number of friends
Drunk on new sake so dazed and dopey
With nothing 7: 281 to say, you and I face each other
Within white wall, 7: 291 the pounding of cloth starts to sound
Receiving light from candle, evening moon
Basho wrote numerous poems of his fascination with the sound of a woman at work, for in that sound he hears her heart; and also his fascination with anything white, for in white he sees purity. Here the sound seems to emerge from the white wall, though actually it comes through that whiteness from the woman hidden in the next room. Basho explores how sound comes from wall; the next poet how light comes from candle. without the humanity of Basho’s stanza.
Young and helpless with bow and arrows, the boy kneels
White hair seen through 7: 299 gaps in bamboo blind
Before he leaves, to his chilly jacket she gives her warmth
When young both of them 7: 320 are innocent in love
I plead for your help in finding a person or group to take over my 3000 pages of Basho material, to edit and improve the presentation, to receive all royalties from sales, to spread Basho’s wisdom worldwide and preserve for future generations.
The only substantial
collection in English
of Basho's renku, tanka,
letters and spoken word
along with his haiku, travel
journals, and essays.
The only poet in old-time
literature who paid attention with praise
to ordinary women, children, and teenagers
in hundreds of poems
Hundreds upon hundreds of Basho works
(mostly renku)about women, children,
teenagers, friendship, compassion, love.
These are resources we can use to better
understand ourselves and humanity.
Interesting and heartfelt
(not scholarly and boring)
for anyone concerned with
humanity.
“An astonishing range of
social subject matter and
compassionate intuition”
"The primordial power
of the feminine emanating
from Basho's poetry"
Hopeful, life-affirming
messages from one of
the greatest minds ever.
Through his letters,
we travel through his mind
and discover Basho's
gentleness and humanity.
I plead for your help in
finding a person or group
to take over my 3000 pages of Basho material,
to edit and improve the material, to receive 100%
of royalties, to spread Basho’s wisdom worldwide
and preserve for future generations.
Quotations from Basho Prose
The days and months are
guests passing through eternity.
The years that go by
also are travelers.
The mountains in silence
nurture the spirit;
the water with movement
calms the emotions.
All the more joyful,
all the more caring
Seek not the traces
of the ancients;
seek rather the
places they sought.
Basho Spoken Word
Only this, apply your heart
to what children do
"The attachment to Oldness
is the very worst disease
a poet can have."
“The skillful have a disease;
let a three-foot child
get the poem"
"Be sick and tired
of yesterday’s self."
"This is the path of a fresh
lively taste with aliveness
in both heart and words."
.
"In poetry is a realm
which cannot be taught.
You must pass through it
yourself. Some poets have made
no effort to pass through, merely
counting things and trying
to remember them.
There was no passing
through the things."
"In verses of other poets,
there is too much making
and the heart’s
immediacy is lost.
What is made from
the heart is good;
the product of words
shall not be preferred."
"We can live without poetry,
yet without harmonizing
with the world’s feeling
and passing not through
human feeling, a person
cannot be fulfilled. Also,
without good friends,
this would be difficult."
"Poetry benefits
from the realization
of ordinary words."
"Many of my followers
write haiku equal to mine,
however in renku is the
bone marrow of this old man."
"Your following stanza
should suit the previous one as an expression
of the same heart's connection."
"Link verses the way
children play."
"Make renku
ride the Energy.
Get the timing wrong,
you ruin the rhythm."
"The physical form
first of all must be graceful
then a musical quality
makes a superior verse."
"As the years passed
by to half a century.
asleep I hovered
among morning clouds
and evening dusk,
awake I was astonished
at the voices of mountain
streams and wild birds."
“These flies sure enjoy
having an unexpected
sick person.”
Haiku of Humanity
Drunk on sake
woman wearing haori
puts in a sword
Night in spring
one hidden in mystery
temple corner
Wrapping rice cake
with one hands she tucks
hair behind ear
On Life's journey
plowing a small field
going and returning
Child of poverty
hulling rice, pauses to
look at the moon
Tone so clear
the Big Dipper resounds
her mallet
Huddling
under the futon, cold
horrible night
Jar cracks
with the ice at night
awakening
Basho Renku
Masterpieces
With her needle
in autumn she manages
to make ends meet
Daughter playing koto
reaches age seven
After the years
of grieving. . . finally
past eighteen
Day and night dreams of
Father in that battle
Now to this brothel
my body has been sold
Can I trust you
with a letter I wrote,
mirror polisher?
Only my face
by rice-seedling mud
is not soiled
Breastfeeding on my lap
what dreams do you see?
Single renku stanzas
Giving birth to
love in the world, she
adorns herself
Autumn wind
saying not a word
child in tears
Among women
one allowed to lead
them in chorus
Easing in
her slender forearm
for his pillow
Two death poems:
On a journey taken ill
dreams on withered fields
wander about
Clear cascade -
into the ripples fall
green pine needles
