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On Love and Barley: Haiku of Basho
Basho, one of the greatest of Japanese poets and the master of haiku, was also a Buddhist monk and a life-long traveller. His poems combine 'karumi', or lightness of touch, with the Zen ideal of oneness with creation. Each poem evokes the natural world - the cherry blossom, the leaping frog, the summer moon or the winter snow - suggesting the smallness of human life in comparison to the vastness and drama of nature. Basho himself enjoyed solitude and a life free from possessions, and his haiku are the work of an observant eye and a meditative mind, uncluttered by materialism and alive to the beauty of the world around him.
77 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1985
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About the author
Matsuo Bashō
318 books587 followersKnown Japanese poet Matsuo Basho composed haiku, infused with the spirit of Zen.
The renowned Matsuo Bashō (松尾 芭蕉) during his lifetime of the period of Edo worked in the collaborative haikai no renga form; people today recognize this most famous brief and clear master.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matsuo_...
The renowned Matsuo Bashō (松尾 芭蕉) during his lifetime of the period of Edo worked in the collaborative haikai no renga form; people today recognize this most famous brief and clear master.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matsuo_...
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August 12, 2019Collection of Basho poems, the title taken from one about a cat who had grown either sick or thin (Idon't recall which) on love and barley. I missed the framework of the journey that there is in The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches. The selection ends with what is said to be Basho's death bed poem:
tabi ni yande / yume wa kareno wo / kake meguru
falling sick on a journey / my dream goes wandering / over a field of dried grass [1694]
still beautiful and softly moving.
tabi ni yande / yume wa kareno wo / kake meguru
falling sick on a journey / my dream goes wandering / over a field of dried grass [1694]
still beautiful and softly moving.
December 15, 2015
枯朶に烏のとまりけり秋の暮
枯れ枝に鴉のとまりけり 秋の暮
（かれえだにからすのとまりけりあきのくれ）
Kareeda ni
Karasu no tomarikeri
Aki no kure
#1 trans
On a bare branch
A crow is perched -
Autumn evening
#2
On the dead limb
squats a crow -
autumn night *
#3
On a bare branch
a crow has alighted
autumn evening.
#4
A crow
has settled on a bare branch
Autumn evening
#5
On a withered branch,
A crow has stopped
Autumn's eve
#6
A lone crow
sits on a dead branch
this autumn eve
* My copy ISBN13: 9780140444599 has this second translation.
枯れ枝に鴉のとまりけり 秋の暮
（かれえだにからすのとまりけりあきのくれ）
Kareeda ni
Karasu no tomarikeri
Aki no kure
#1 trans
On a bare branch
A crow is perched -
Autumn evening
#2
On the dead limb
squats a crow -
autumn night *
#3
On a bare branch
a crow has alighted
autumn evening.
#4
A crow
has settled on a bare branch
Autumn evening
#5
On a withered branch,
A crow has stopped
Autumn's eve
#6
A lone crow
sits on a dead branch
this autumn eve
* My copy ISBN13: 9780140444599 has this second translation.
April 24, 2021
Simply being. Cherry blossom trees bloom in abundance around here in early spring. They exist, as do I, each one living separately and alongside, going from one season to another celebrating events but not each other. Sometimes, I catch myself detached and remember then, to catch the present instead. No book could more perfectly suit my current mood than On Love and Barley: Haiku of Basho, a collection of observations from 17th century Japan about nature and daily life, with each observation a moment crystallized and “intensely alive” in the now, whenever, wherever.
Basho’s restless travels took him places, haikus trailing in his wake. Over a thousand preserved, his haikus were considered the master work of a “living theorist”, in which the writer became the object, and the object expressed its feelings through the writer. Poetry, poet, subject were as one in no more than seventeen syllables, the traditional form. They were just long enough to suggest, to imply, to invite the mind to visualize a whole picture from little. About 250 haikus from Basho’s collection were compiled in this slim volume with an introduction from the translator, Lucien Stryk. Even as a layperson with only the benefit of translated work from Japanese, I loved reading every single one of Basho’s haiku with footnotes for context, and then re-read without footnotes for the pleasure of my imagination.
67
First winter rain -
I plod on,
Traveller, my name.
75
Wake, butterfly -
it’s late, we’ve miles
to go together.
137
Summer moon -
clapping hands,
I herald dawn.
152
Girl cat, so
thin on love
and barley.
170
Rhyming imitators -
musk melons
whacked to halves.
228
Dying cricket -
how full of life,
his song.
250
Dew-drops -
how better wash away
world's dust?
And, Basho’s final poem shortly before death,
253
Sick on a journey -
over parched fields
dreams wander on.
Basho’s restless travels took him places, haikus trailing in his wake. Over a thousand preserved, his haikus were considered the master work of a “living theorist”, in which the writer became the object, and the object expressed its feelings through the writer. Poetry, poet, subject were as one in no more than seventeen syllables, the traditional form. They were just long enough to suggest, to imply, to invite the mind to visualize a whole picture from little. About 250 haikus from Basho’s collection were compiled in this slim volume with an introduction from the translator, Lucien Stryk. Even as a layperson with only the benefit of translated work from Japanese, I loved reading every single one of Basho’s haiku with footnotes for context, and then re-read without footnotes for the pleasure of my imagination.
67
First winter rain -
I plod on,
Traveller, my name.
75
Wake, butterfly -
it’s late, we’ve miles
to go together.
137
Summer moon -
clapping hands,
I herald dawn.
152
Girl cat, so
thin on love
and barley.
170
Rhyming imitators -
musk melons
whacked to halves.
228
Dying cricket -
how full of life,
his song.
250
Dew-drops -
how better wash away
world's dust?
And, Basho’s final poem shortly before death,
253
Sick on a journey -
over parched fields
dreams wander on.
July 21, 2018
Abuzz with haiku, I arrive at my office. I face the tree canopy of a Chinese elderberry outside my window. Past is the cry that stabbed my darkness. Cloud-waves break across their ocean. Transfigured, I observe berries awaiting new color with each season. Little visitors flock to its boughs to glut on its berries and bugs. I reach for Basho, whom I keep in my office in the hope that he might yield me a daily seed of wonder. I enter the Elderberry's orbit of birds and butterflies and float nectar-drunk across his haiku-flowers. Glutted, I will again meet this poet-priest-beggar-saint, and with him roam the roads in spring. I regret returning to work. But man (and cat) cannot live on Love and Barley.
The title of this collection comes from #152
Girl, cat, so
thin on love
and barley.
I can't help but think of Sting's "Fields of Gold"
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields of gold
Penguin Says:
****
My Favorite Haikus and images Condensed not spoiled
*****
Quick Introduction to the Life of Basho by TranslatorCondensed
The title of this collection comes from #152
Girl, cat, so
thin on love
and barley.
I can't help but think of Sting's "Fields of Gold"
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields of gold
Penguin Says:
****
My Favorite Haikus and images Condensed not spoiled
*****
Quick Introduction to the Life of Basho by TranslatorCondensed
July 4, 2018
*2.5
I'm going to admit it, here and now, that I only read this for a challenge and that may or may not have affected my rating. Okay, it affected everything a whole lot. And by that, I mean like my eyelids were downright forced open with toothpicks so I had to read the book. So, uh, on with the review...
I've said it before and I'll say it again: poetry, especially ones like haiku, need the readers’ participation, otherwise, it'll seem meaningless. I was bordering very close on the meaningless side. The fact that these were translations may have made it less poignant, because there's just something beautiful about words in their own unfiltered language. I just really didn't connect with the haikus at all, save maybe for a select few.
What I did considerably enjoy was how the poems took me places just with the simplest of words. Matsuo Basho was a poet and a traveller, and you can see that really reflecting on his work. It felt like I was there on his travels, to Asakusa, Kiso, Futami, Yoshino, and to all the other places he's written about. It was very descriptive, the words painted the picture clearly and precisely.
And on a less positive vibe...
Throughout, the book had a zen perspective that I hadn't really expected to understand, but did. I was genuinely awed at how much zen had affected Basho's writing and his general outlook on life. It made me feel more connected with nature and the art of its philosophy. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't hard to understand, but that's what made it so much more interesting.
What I didn't like was that most of the haikus were repetitive. They almost always are with poetry, but this was a little too much. It sounded like he was using synonyms to make the piece before a little different than the next. One actually repeated itself, and I know that was on the publisher, but I was still dismayed. During the first quarter of the book, although informational, I had absolutely no idea what was happening. The writing style was something I wasn't fond of, either (understandable though, considering this writing was from years ago; the amount of dashes were too much for me). My main reason for this 2-it-wasn't-bad-stars was that I just really didn't connect with most of the haiku. Period.
Sleeping willow –
soul of
the nightingale.
—
I'm going to admit it, here and now, that I only read this for a challenge and that may or may not have affected my rating. Okay, it affected everything a whole lot. And by that, I mean like my eyelids were downright forced open with toothpicks so I had to read the book. So, uh, on with the review...
I've said it before and I'll say it again: poetry, especially ones like haiku, need the readers’ participation, otherwise, it'll seem meaningless. I was bordering very close on the meaningless side. The fact that these were translations may have made it less poignant, because there's just something beautiful about words in their own unfiltered language. I just really didn't connect with the haikus at all, save maybe for a select few.
If I’d the knack
I’d sing like
cherry flakes falling.
What I did considerably enjoy was how the poems took me places just with the simplest of words. Matsuo Basho was a poet and a traveller, and you can see that really reflecting on his work. It felt like I was there on his travels, to Asakusa, Kiso, Futami, Yoshino, and to all the other places he's written about. It was very descriptive, the words painted the picture clearly and precisely.
Mountain path –
sun rising
through plum scent.
And on a less positive vibe...
Faceless – bones
scattered in the field,
wind cuts my flesh.
Throughout, the book had a zen perspective that I hadn't really expected to understand, but did. I was genuinely awed at how much zen had affected Basho's writing and his general outlook on life. It made me feel more connected with nature and the art of its philosophy. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't hard to understand, but that's what made it so much more interesting.
On a leafless branch
A crow comes to rest –
Autumn nightfall
What I didn't like was that most of the haikus were repetitive. They almost always are with poetry, but this was a little too much. It sounded like he was using synonyms to make the piece before a little different than the next. One actually repeated itself, and I know that was on the publisher, but I was still dismayed. During the first quarter of the book, although informational, I had absolutely no idea what was happening. The writing style was something I wasn't fond of, either (understandable though, considering this writing was from years ago; the amount of dashes were too much for me). My main reason for this 2-it-wasn't-bad-stars was that I just really didn't connect with most of the haiku. Period.
Sick on a journey –
over parched fields
dreams wander on
April 22, 2015
Another wonderful Penguin Classic, this one dealing exclusively with Haiku from the master Matsuo Bashō. The Introduction and translation is by Lucien Stryk. The Introduction deals specifically with the art of haiku and its links with Zen Buddhism, and with how Bashō wanted his haiku to evoke the Zen qualities of lightness yet profoundness that is very difficult to achieve yet appears to be effortless. He wants to make his readers transcend the minutely observed details of a natural world, and to reveal something transcendent — all within the confines of three lines and seventeen syllables…
Haiku 250 speaks for me as a way in which one can interpret this spare yet resonant poetry:
Dew drops —
how better wash away
world’s dust?
In a sense, then, these haiku can be seen as a collection of dew-drops which can clean up the world for us…
The trick, it seems to me, is to provide just enough information as to engage the mind of the reader and coax it into a co-creation with the author. When that happens, then indeed mere externals are transcended, and the real “poetry” becomes alive and vibrant. The images live on in the reader’s mind because the reader has been cajoled into being a kind of co-conspirator with the author. The mind is trapped within the sparseness of the lines, and yet feels the immense and infinite liberation of the personal creative imagination let loose…
Associated with this is the “problem” of translation. Here Stryk has cleverly managed to render every one of these haiku into three lines; but the seventeen syllables of the traditional Japanese form is probably impossible to achieve in English. Some might find this resulting in a kind of stilted style which doesn’t flow all that easily. My suggestion (apart from reading up on what the haiku poets attempt to do) is to try to write your own version, but still limiting yourself to the simple details presented. Sometimes you might be successful; but I would venture to suggest that in most cases a “better” rendition will not readily come to mind. What this process does make you do is meditate on the specific images, and if you are lucky, you might end up with several versions. Or you might end up with accepting the provided translation. Doing this, however, will have engaged your mind with the creation of poetry (albeit in a rather coarse way) and it will illustrate what I was trying to say when I was talking about co-creation above…
Another warning for the impatient reader: the shortness and “simplicity” of these poems might tempt you to read them quickly. This is compounded by the fact that this edition regularly places six of them on each page. There are 253 haiku in this collection, each one of which deserves individual attention. Some of these might require special digging, but most will be both readily accessible and yielding of their secrets. That way, may you be as happy as the bee in haiku 246, another of my very favourite pieces:
From the heart
of the sweet peony,
a drunken bee.
Haiku 250 speaks for me as a way in which one can interpret this spare yet resonant poetry:
Dew drops —
how better wash away
world’s dust?
In a sense, then, these haiku can be seen as a collection of dew-drops which can clean up the world for us…
The trick, it seems to me, is to provide just enough information as to engage the mind of the reader and coax it into a co-creation with the author. When that happens, then indeed mere externals are transcended, and the real “poetry” becomes alive and vibrant. The images live on in the reader’s mind because the reader has been cajoled into being a kind of co-conspirator with the author. The mind is trapped within the sparseness of the lines, and yet feels the immense and infinite liberation of the personal creative imagination let loose…
Associated with this is the “problem” of translation. Here Stryk has cleverly managed to render every one of these haiku into three lines; but the seventeen syllables of the traditional Japanese form is probably impossible to achieve in English. Some might find this resulting in a kind of stilted style which doesn’t flow all that easily. My suggestion (apart from reading up on what the haiku poets attempt to do) is to try to write your own version, but still limiting yourself to the simple details presented. Sometimes you might be successful; but I would venture to suggest that in most cases a “better” rendition will not readily come to mind. What this process does make you do is meditate on the specific images, and if you are lucky, you might end up with several versions. Or you might end up with accepting the provided translation. Doing this, however, will have engaged your mind with the creation of poetry (albeit in a rather coarse way) and it will illustrate what I was trying to say when I was talking about co-creation above…
Another warning for the impatient reader: the shortness and “simplicity” of these poems might tempt you to read them quickly. This is compounded by the fact that this edition regularly places six of them on each page. There are 253 haiku in this collection, each one of which deserves individual attention. Some of these might require special digging, but most will be both readily accessible and yielding of their secrets. That way, may you be as happy as the bee in haiku 246, another of my very favourite pieces:
From the heart
of the sweet peony,
a drunken bee.
August 23, 2012
"Learn about a pine tree from a pine tree, and about a bamboo stalk from a bamboo stalk." Detaching mind from self and entering into an object (or experience, or partner, or child) and "sharing its delicate life and its feelings" is the Zennist (and generally Eastern) way of writing, of experiencing, of marriage, of parenting. The result is so simple it's mind-blowing-- a perception of life and its infinite beautiful agonies all connected and mirroring each other, like the facets of a crystal. How amazing that such a small poem (a mere taste, a whiff of scent, a pinprick) possesses the ability to tear a trained Western mind from the grand illusion--the Greatest Hoax of all!-- of isolation and separateness in nature and in life...
" Summer moon--
clapping hands,
I herald dawn. "
(Clap clap. Look around. You made this.)
" Summer moon--
clapping hands,
I herald dawn. "
(Clap clap. Look around. You made this.)
November 6, 2014
Beautiful! Basho reintroduces me to haiku, I have missed it and need it. Thank you Basho 370 years later.
Basho writes cool and
Beautifully as his tree
Keeps the shade.
It may not be very well done, but there it is. I haven't written my own haiku in ages. I am rusty.
Basho writes cool and
Beautifully as his tree
Keeps the shade.
It may not be very well done, but there it is. I haven't written my own haiku in ages. I am rusty.
September 25, 2023
Haiku is form of poetry that celebrates the beauty of the nature and the seasons. Basho is a master of this art form:“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.”
March 20, 2018
3.50 stars
I read this cute paperback with partial understanding as a sequel of my reading Basho's "The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches" (Penguin, 1966). My query is on its title itself since I could recall vaguely that 'love' might have been indirectly mentioned in some of those 253 haikus but how about 'barley', I'm not sure if it has been included anywhere so I would reread to verify the matter soon. Reading haiku is not always readily understandable but we sometime can find it inexplicably tough, that is, we simply don't know what it all means as we can see from the following three extracts as examples:
1
In my new robe
this morning -
someone else.
2
Fields, mountains
of Hubaku, in
nine days - spring.
3
Year by year,
the monkey's mask
reveals the monkey. (p. 25)
Now compare with these three randomly selected according to my view since each of them has given us some glimpses of light:
17
Sparrows in eaves,
mice in ceiling -
celestial music. (p. 27)
63
Winter downpour -
even the monkey
needs a raincoat. (p. 39)
88
Cuckoo -
sing, fly, sing,
then start again. (p. 43)
Gradually, we can see it's all right to achieve more and better understanding on a particular haiku, as for those obscure ones just leave them at that because we need to find ways to get ourselves well-equipped with more information and hopefully practical strategies. One of the reasons is that we simply can't fully understand like those who have studied for years and known Japanese; we are in the different track as English (not Japanese) readers interested in haiku. Therefore, its foundation involving Basho's life as well as haiku's mysterious nature is essential. For instance, a mystery is concerned with Zen since Basho has famously been acclaimed as a Zen itinerant who liked traveling alone and sometime with some accompanying friends; the information on him and others written on the topic "Zen and Haiku" in Daisetz T. Suzuki's Zen and Japanese Culture (Tuttle, 1988) should fulfill our haiku interest and background knowledge.
To continue . . .
I read this cute paperback with partial understanding as a sequel of my reading Basho's "The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches" (Penguin, 1966). My query is on its title itself since I could recall vaguely that 'love' might have been indirectly mentioned in some of those 253 haikus but how about 'barley', I'm not sure if it has been included anywhere so I would reread to verify the matter soon. Reading haiku is not always readily understandable but we sometime can find it inexplicably tough, that is, we simply don't know what it all means as we can see from the following three extracts as examples:
1
In my new robe
this morning -
someone else.
2
Fields, mountains
of Hubaku, in
nine days - spring.
3
Year by year,
the monkey's mask
reveals the monkey. (p. 25)
Now compare with these three randomly selected according to my view since each of them has given us some glimpses of light:
17
Sparrows in eaves,
mice in ceiling -
celestial music. (p. 27)
63
Winter downpour -
even the monkey
needs a raincoat. (p. 39)
88
Cuckoo -
sing, fly, sing,
then start again. (p. 43)
Gradually, we can see it's all right to achieve more and better understanding on a particular haiku, as for those obscure ones just leave them at that because we need to find ways to get ourselves well-equipped with more information and hopefully practical strategies. One of the reasons is that we simply can't fully understand like those who have studied for years and known Japanese; we are in the different track as English (not Japanese) readers interested in haiku. Therefore, its foundation involving Basho's life as well as haiku's mysterious nature is essential. For instance, a mystery is concerned with Zen since Basho has famously been acclaimed as a Zen itinerant who liked traveling alone and sometime with some accompanying friends; the information on him and others written on the topic "Zen and Haiku" in Daisetz T. Suzuki's Zen and Japanese Culture (Tuttle, 1988) should fulfill our haiku interest and background knowledge.
To continue . . .
February 16, 2018
I recently read On Love and Barley - the Haiku of Basho translated by Lucien Stryk (1986).
During his lifetime (1644 - 94), Basho wrote over 1000 haiku.
This slim volume contains just 253 - a lovely accessible way to discover the beautiful simplicity of his life's work.
Zen, as an aesthetic, is something I feel very drawn to.
Basho aimed for the 'calm realisation of profoundly felt truths' according to Stryk in his Introduction.
Superficiality, trickery and artifice were to be avoided.
The solitary experience, lightness and honouring the humble were Basho's tools.
His inspiration was daily life, observation, stillness and nature.
Moments in time, 'distilled, snatched from time's flow' were enough.
Full review here - http://bronasbooks.blogspot.com.au/20...
During his lifetime (1644 - 94), Basho wrote over 1000 haiku.
This slim volume contains just 253 - a lovely accessible way to discover the beautiful simplicity of his life's work.
Zen, as an aesthetic, is something I feel very drawn to.
Basho aimed for the 'calm realisation of profoundly felt truths' according to Stryk in his Introduction.
Superficiality, trickery and artifice were to be avoided.
The solitary experience, lightness and honouring the humble were Basho's tools.
His inspiration was daily life, observation, stillness and nature.
Moments in time, 'distilled, snatched from time's flow' were enough.
Full review here - http://bronasbooks.blogspot.com.au/20...
June 10, 2016
I just picked this up from a display shelf in my library. It was a little after National Poetry Day and I needed to read one for Read Harder anyway. Yet I had not been a fan of the Haiku before, studying it in school it seemed like a restrictive and poorly defined mode of expression. This, however, totally changed my views.
What Basho does here in short beautiful phrases, sums up life, nature and love. Sometimes funny, sometimes sad, sometimes meditative, all with a brilliant sense of brevity.
What Basho does here in short beautiful phrases, sums up life, nature and love. Sometimes funny, sometimes sad, sometimes meditative, all with a brilliant sense of brevity.
August 6, 2018
101
"Autumn winds –
look, the chestnut
never more green."
118
'Nothing more lonely –
heart-shaped
paulownia leaf.'
121
"Birth of art –
song of rice planters,
chorus from nowhere"
129
"Come, see real
flowers
of this painful world"
190
'Autumn eve – please
turn to me.
I, too, am stranger.'
"Autumn winds –
look, the chestnut
never more green."
118
'Nothing more lonely –
heart-shaped
paulownia leaf.'
121
"Birth of art –
song of rice planters,
chorus from nowhere"
129
"Come, see real
flowers
of this painful world"
190
'Autumn eve – please
turn to me.
I, too, am stranger.'
December 27, 2022
[4.5 stars rounded up]
I read this book on the morning of my 20th birthday, and it was such a good way to start my twenties.
Basho's haikus are full of descriptions of natural beauty, the changing of the seasons, and the passage of time. The way he talks about blossoming flowers, trees, birdsongs, skies, thunder, etc. in just 3 lines was gorgeous to behold. (The only reason I've docked half a star was because some themes were a bit too repetitive, but that doesn't retract from the enjoyment of the book really).
Basho was a follower of the Zen philosophy and that is very clearly evident in his writings. The art of haikus are inherently intertwined with Zen. "Japanese artists... influenced by the way of Zen tend to use the fewest words or strokes of brush to express their feelings. When they are too fully expressed no room for suggestion is possible, and suggestibility is the secret of the Japanese arts."
This made for an extremely pleasant, calming, serene, and romantic read. This is the kind of book that is best consumed slowly and patiently, taking the time to digest and ruminate on the beauty and simplicity of the writings — I can't recommend it enough!
Some excerpts from this book:
Basho loved and needed solitude: '"I am like a sick man weary of society", he wrote. "There was a time I wanted an official post, land of my own, another time I would have liked to live in a monastery. Yet I wandered on, a cloud in the wind, wanting only to capture the beauty of flowers and birds."
The chief reason for the poet's universal appeal is that he never leaves nature, which-East. West-is one, through all processes and manifestations the sole unchanging thing we know. Throughout his life as a wanderer Basho sought to celebrate: whether his eyes turned to mountain or gorge, whether his ears heard thunder or bird-song, whether his foot brushed flower or mud, he was intensely alive to the preciousness of all that shared the world with him.
Basho's final haiku before his death:
Sick on a journey –
over parched fields
dreams wander on.
I read this book on the morning of my 20th birthday, and it was such a good way to start my twenties.
Basho's haikus are full of descriptions of natural beauty, the changing of the seasons, and the passage of time. The way he talks about blossoming flowers, trees, birdsongs, skies, thunder, etc. in just 3 lines was gorgeous to behold. (The only reason I've docked half a star was because some themes were a bit too repetitive, but that doesn't retract from the enjoyment of the book really).
Basho was a follower of the Zen philosophy and that is very clearly evident in his writings. The art of haikus are inherently intertwined with Zen. "Japanese artists... influenced by the way of Zen tend to use the fewest words or strokes of brush to express their feelings. When they are too fully expressed no room for suggestion is possible, and suggestibility is the secret of the Japanese arts."
This made for an extremely pleasant, calming, serene, and romantic read. This is the kind of book that is best consumed slowly and patiently, taking the time to digest and ruminate on the beauty and simplicity of the writings — I can't recommend it enough!
Some excerpts from this book:
Basho loved and needed solitude: '"I am like a sick man weary of society", he wrote. "There was a time I wanted an official post, land of my own, another time I would have liked to live in a monastery. Yet I wandered on, a cloud in the wind, wanting only to capture the beauty of flowers and birds."
The chief reason for the poet's universal appeal is that he never leaves nature, which-East. West-is one, through all processes and manifestations the sole unchanging thing we know. Throughout his life as a wanderer Basho sought to celebrate: whether his eyes turned to mountain or gorge, whether his ears heard thunder or bird-song, whether his foot brushed flower or mud, he was intensely alive to the preciousness of all that shared the world with him.
Basho's final haiku before his death:
Sick on a journey –
over parched fields
dreams wander on.
April 30, 2025
I’ve always had the impression that it’s a little stupid to read japanese haiku translated to english. I still think that but I found this short book to be interesting.
I assume that a lot of context is missing since english is just less information dense than character based languages and moreover I’m simply missing a lot of cultural references. I feel like haiku in particular is difficult to translate since it is already so sparse and additional information is conveyed through seasonal/animal/flower motifs that I am not familiar with. Despite that however the experience of reading these translated haiku as a native english speaker does evoke a certain feeling of detachedness and closeness to nature. The terseness feels strangely freeing. The only way I can describe it is reading this is like if you went on a hike in woods but during it you weren’t thinking about anything in particular just letting your thoughts wander but never focusing on anything.
I really appreciated the footnotes at the end. Honestly I would have probably preferred to read these haiku with more extensive footnotes and explanations haha.
After reading this, In Praise of Shadows by Tanizaki and The Book of Tea by Okakura Kakuzou and learning a bit of shodo it’s so interesting how much Zen Buddhism has shaped Japanese art and culture is every possible facet. It’s also funny seeing how starkly different western and japanese artistic tastes are.
I assume that a lot of context is missing since english is just less information dense than character based languages and moreover I’m simply missing a lot of cultural references. I feel like haiku in particular is difficult to translate since it is already so sparse and additional information is conveyed through seasonal/animal/flower motifs that I am not familiar with. Despite that however the experience of reading these translated haiku as a native english speaker does evoke a certain feeling of detachedness and closeness to nature. The terseness feels strangely freeing. The only way I can describe it is reading this is like if you went on a hike in woods but during it you weren’t thinking about anything in particular just letting your thoughts wander but never focusing on anything.
I really appreciated the footnotes at the end. Honestly I would have probably preferred to read these haiku with more extensive footnotes and explanations haha.
After reading this, In Praise of Shadows by Tanizaki and The Book of Tea by Okakura Kakuzou and learning a bit of shodo it’s so interesting how much Zen Buddhism has shaped Japanese art and culture is every possible facet. It’s also funny seeing how starkly different western and japanese artistic tastes are.
April 10, 2025
Dying cricket
How full of life
His song.
How full of life
His song.
August 13, 2007
This is another great book to keep with you for when you only have a few minutes at a time to read. Some of the haikus in here were just ok, but others were luminous. Basho seems to have enjoyed life's simple pleasures, and this positive outlook comes through in his poems, making this a delightful read.
October 15, 2015
Haiku, like all poetry, strike home with some people and mean nothing to others. There were a few gems in this book, but mostly Basho's observations of nature passed me by. I enjoy the form of Haiku and admire his ability to write, but I'm not really interested in reading much more.
November 28, 2020
Any work that has survived since the 1600s deserves five stars. The fact that Basho lives on and continues to be discussed deserves bonus stars. Sometimes I wonder how barbaric life must have been several centuries ago, but this book gives me pause. This man wrote about cherry blossoms (a lot) and frogs and the moon. Maybe humanity has always been more gentle than we thought. Maybe we forgot that we could be gentle as the 1900s was the most violent century in human history. Hopefully we can get back to a place of peace and reflection.
January 20, 2025
I absolutely loved this book. I’ve always seen references to Basho’s poems in movies and other literature and I’m glad to have read this book I look forward to finding more books with his work and seeing other translations of his haiku poems.
January 22, 2019
Orchid – breathing
Incense into
Butterfly’s wings.
Spider, are you
Crying – or
The autumn wind?
Light the fire –
How about this,
A giant snowball
I liked the intro to Basho and thought the Haiku's were interesting and something new to me. 3 .5 solid stars.
Incense into
Butterfly’s wings.
Spider, are you
Crying – or
The autumn wind?
Light the fire –
How about this,
A giant snowball
I liked the intro to Basho and thought the Haiku's were interesting and something new to me. 3 .5 solid stars.
November 7, 2025
This was wonderful, though very short. Bashō is just incredible.
January 10, 2020
These hardly work in translation. Almost every poem requires a contextual note on Japan’s geography, flora and fauna, or traditions; as these were collected at the end but there were no footnote symbols, I didn’t know to look for them, so by the time I read them it was too late. However, here are two that worked, with messages about Zen Buddhism and depression, respectively: “Skylark on moor – / sweet song / of non-attachment.” (#83) and “Muddy sake, black rice – sick of the cherry / sick of the world.” (#221; reminds me of Samuel Johnson’s “tired of London, tired of life” maxim). My favorite, for personal relevance, was “Now cat’s done / mewing, bedroom’s / touched by moonlight.” (#24)
December 12, 2011
The 17th century Japanese Zen haiku poet Matsuo Basho is probably the greatest of all poet travelers. His Narrow Road to the Deep North is one of my favorite books. This anthology of Basho's other work, with an excellent introduction by the translator, is an excellent vade mecum for people like me, who wish they could be Basho.
February 10, 2025
“Come, butterfly
It's late-
We've miles to go together.”
"How I long to see
among dawn flowers,
the face of God."
While I still struggle with haikus, I find Bashō’s work compelling and worth the effort. His ability to capture fleeting moments of nature, emotion, and everyday life in just a few lines is impressive, and there’s a quiet depth to his poetry that lingers long after reading.
I won’t lie—haikus still challenge me. The minimalism requires a level of attentiveness that I’m still learning to develop, but I want to persist. There’s something meditative about his words, a simplicity that somehow carries so much weight. Reading this collection felt like stepping into a different rhythm of thought, one that slows you down and makes you notice the small details of life.
A beautiful and reflective read—one I’ll likely revisit as I continue to grow in my appreciation of haiku.
It's late-
We've miles to go together.”
"How I long to see
among dawn flowers,
the face of God."
While I still struggle with haikus, I find Bashō’s work compelling and worth the effort. His ability to capture fleeting moments of nature, emotion, and everyday life in just a few lines is impressive, and there’s a quiet depth to his poetry that lingers long after reading.
I won’t lie—haikus still challenge me. The minimalism requires a level of attentiveness that I’m still learning to develop, but I want to persist. There’s something meditative about his words, a simplicity that somehow carries so much weight. Reading this collection felt like stepping into a different rhythm of thought, one that slows you down and makes you notice the small details of life.
A beautiful and reflective read—one I’ll likely revisit as I continue to grow in my appreciation of haiku.
December 14, 2022
oops at this point i’m cheating a little to hit 100
a clean and simple collection of wonderful poetry! i admit that probably one third of the haiku here are beyond my ability to understand, mostly because of insufficient cultural knowledge. another third consists of lighthearted-feeling haiku that seem like they could have been dashed off in a couple hours. again, probably my own lack of understanding, but that’s how it be!
the remaining third, though: what luscious poetry! such surprising and beautiful moments captured in pure simplicity. basho has a master’s feel for the hiding the unexpected in the third line. if only i could read it in the original japanese and feel the rhythms of his poetry.
a clean and simple collection of wonderful poetry! i admit that probably one third of the haiku here are beyond my ability to understand, mostly because of insufficient cultural knowledge. another third consists of lighthearted-feeling haiku that seem like they could have been dashed off in a couple hours. again, probably my own lack of understanding, but that’s how it be!
the remaining third, though: what luscious poetry! such surprising and beautiful moments captured in pure simplicity. basho has a master’s feel for the hiding the unexpected in the third line. if only i could read it in the original japanese and feel the rhythms of his poetry.
Read
January 5, 2022Spring night,
cherry
-blossom dawn.
Spring moon -
flower face
in mist.
Sparrows in eaves,
mice in ceiling -
celestial music.
Spring air -
woven moon
and plum scent.
Cherry blossoms -
lights
of years past.
Butterfly -
wings curve into
white poppy.
Poor boy -
leaves moon-viewing
for rice-grinding.
Lips too chilled
for prattle -
autumn wind.
Unknown spring -
plum blossom
behind the mirror.
Fading bells -
now musky blossoms
peal in dusk.
Rainy days -
silkworms droop
on mulberries.
Orchid -
breathing incense into
butterfly's wings.
Friends part
forever - wild geese
lost in cloud.
cherry
-blossom dawn.
Spring moon -
flower face
in mist.
Sparrows in eaves,
mice in ceiling -
celestial music.
Spring air -
woven moon
and plum scent.
Cherry blossoms -
lights
of years past.
Butterfly -
wings curve into
white poppy.
Poor boy -
leaves moon-viewing
for rice-grinding.
Lips too chilled
for prattle -
autumn wind.
Unknown spring -
plum blossom
behind the mirror.
Fading bells -
now musky blossoms
peal in dusk.
Rainy days -
silkworms droop
on mulberries.
Orchid -
breathing incense into
butterfly's wings.
Friends part
forever - wild geese
lost in cloud.
September 5, 2022
it's my first time reading haiku and honestly i really liked it as genre and as basho's work too. the poems are simple yet in my mind most of them created vivid images of nature in its most beautiful and calmest, untouched form. my soul really needed to read something that would help me slow down, breathe for a moment and appreciate the good things in life.
favorite poems were:
75
Wake, butterfly –
it’s late, we’ve miles
to go together.
117
To the willow –
all hatred, and desire
of your heart.
118
Nothing more lonely –
heart-shaped
paulownia leaf.
129
Come, see real
flowers
of this painful world.
185
Mirroring each other:
white narcissi,
paper screen.
215
You the butterfly –
I, Chuang Tzu’s
dreaming heart.
favorite poems were:
75
Wake, butterfly –
it’s late, we’ve miles
to go together.
117
To the willow –
all hatred, and desire
of your heart.
118
Nothing more lonely –
heart-shaped
paulownia leaf.
129
Come, see real
flowers
of this painful world.
185
Mirroring each other:
white narcissi,
paper screen.
215
You the butterfly –
I, Chuang Tzu’s
dreaming heart.
May 30, 2021
Poems are not profound, After reading these poems I have started to realize there is nothing called permanent profoundness in any works. Profundity purely based on the novelty of the experience, So Haiku poems walk us through seasons, spirituality, birds, and insects that we witness in our day to day to life still choose to be blind to it.
There is one special woman we meet in life, Even her simple presence just next to us gives you the feeling of being content without doing anything. Haiku poems belong to the category.
There is one special woman we meet in life, Even her simple presence just next to us gives you the feeling of being content without doing anything. Haiku poems belong to the category.
August 13, 2025
I have read this book now a handful of times. Maybe 5 times this past week? The most I have ever reread any book. I expect to reread it at least once more in the near future, and return to it someday again. I am astonished at the simplicity of Basho's writing in this collection. Few of the haikus here really blow me away, but I struggle to replicate the flow and presentation that Basho has mastered--the images he evokes are clear and stark and beautiful:
From the heart
of the sweet peony,
a drunken bee
To lie drunk
on cobbles,
bedded in pinks.
I hope to some day manage to capture nature in the way he does!
From the heart
of the sweet peony,
a drunken bee
To lie drunk
on cobbles,
bedded in pinks.
I hope to some day manage to capture nature in the way he does!
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