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Basho: The Complete Haiku by Matsuo Basho
Basho stands today as Japans most renowned writer, and one of the most revered. Wherever Japanese literature, poetry or Zen are studied, his oeuvre carries weight. Every new student of haiku quickly learns that Basho was the greatest of the Old Japanese Masters.Yet despite his stature, Bashos complete haiku have not been collected into a single volume. Until now.To render the writers full body of work into English, Jane Reichhold, an American haiku poet and translator, dedicated over ten years of work. In The Complete Haiku, she accomplishes the feat with distinction. Dividing his creative output into seven periods of development, Reichhold frames each period with a decisive biographical sketch of the poets travels, creative influences and personal triumphs and defeats. Scrupulously annotated notes accompany each poem; and a glossary and two indexes fill out the volume.Reichhold notes that, Basho was a genius with words. He obsessively sought out the right word for each phrase of the succinct seventeen-syllable haiku, seeking the very essence of experience and expression. With equal dedication, Reichhold sought the ideal translations. As a result, The Complete Haiku is likely to become the essential work on this brilliant poet and will stand as the most authoritative book on the subject for many years to come. Original sumi-e ink drawings by artist Shiro Tsujimura complement the haiku throughout the book.
Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 1972
About the author
Matsuo Bashō
313 books608 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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Displaying 1 - 30 of 90 reviews
January 22, 2016
Never so much was so shrewdly condensed in so little.
Seventeen sound units called "on" with the structure of five, seven, five units in three minimalistic verses, preferably without the active inertia that a verbal tense implies, is all it takes to compose a Haiku. Nouns, adjectives and adverbs are the tools to juggle juxtaposition, wordplay, riddle and ancient wisdom.
Two opposed images are fleetingly sketched, like a shooting star that prickles a borrowed memory in the back of the reader's mind, presented in a compressed form of conflicting forces that coexist in an imperfect but solid balance.
A light goes on, a small dot of blinding iridescence sparkles unevenly and the chirping of cicada, the splashing frog, the cawing crow are brought to life for a split of a second, only to be lost again to the deafening sound of an inanimate painting. Wait… Did that blade of grass dance, the branch pregnant with cherry blossoms creak? I listen to the steady pathway of sandals and stick performing a meticulous choreography of life experience distilled in metaphor, in visual aphorism.
Basho believed the lightness of words could bear the burden of meaning. His poetry had to mirror the simplicity of his life, the serenity of his fears, the anxiety of his long journeys, both torment and regeneration. The wanderer in him defeated the foibled human and liberated the poet.
The rigorous technique and the strict rules of the renga masters became obsolete for Basho's purpose to illustrate without interfering with the inherent essence of words. He wanted to elevate the poetic expression to the purest of artistic forms and so his influence is mostly absent in his creative output, infusing the haiku with the power to transfigure the particular into the universal, prompting interaction between poem and reader.
He couldn’t imagine that a new school of poets would ensue from this vision and set the founding pillars of Japanese aesthetics.
Take the poem below. One can detect Basho’s resolution to live a humble life devoid of material luxuries, although there is a tenuous shadow of dissatisfaction that reveals a man who still hasn’t found his place in the world:
“flowers in this world
my wine is white
my rice is dark” 163
Black and white present a visual contrast to the vivid image of flowers, which might imply the beginning of springtime, and in turn forebode the transitory buoyancy of the seasons. The crisscrossed colors used to describe basic ingredients of the Japanese diet imply their poor-quality and a lifestyle based on simplicity that is deeply attached to nature. And so the general statement of the first line is narrowed down to the ordinary traits of daily life and elevates it to the transcendental with its associative connotations.
Or,
“rippling waves
the fragrance of wind
in their rhythm” 964
This is a fine example of a haiku that distorts sensory perception. Is it the wind that we smell or the briny swell stirred by the sea breeze? Where is the cause-effect that would allow the reader to separate the waves from the wind, the fragrance from the rhythm? It is nowhere to be found because a cohesive force unites these words into an indivisible oneness that can’t be disassembled, and so sound, vision and smell are all scrambled up in a static snapshot of movement.
The man who wrote these verses was fully immersed in poetry. He himself became poetry and the boundaries between creator and creation disappeared without sacrificing the magic spell of his talents, of his delicately chosen words.
Words that still light up the night sky today like flaring, fluttering fireflies in the darkness.
seasons in a journey
worn sandals and words
into the wild blue yonder
******
Note on the edition: This collection includes the complete haiku (1012 poems) by Basho, presented in seven sections that link the poet’s artistic development to the main biographical events that shaped his creative output.
The supplementary material includes a detailed exposition on the haiku techniques and an incredibly well researched commentary with the original Japanese and a literal translation for each poem, which helps the reader to understand the wordplay and the “double entendre” that is ever present in the poems. Translating Japanese is a challenging, some might even say an impossible mission but I think Reichhold’s dedication and scholarship allows the reader to grasp Basho’s genius in its full splendor.
Seventeen sound units called "on" with the structure of five, seven, five units in three minimalistic verses, preferably without the active inertia that a verbal tense implies, is all it takes to compose a Haiku. Nouns, adjectives and adverbs are the tools to juggle juxtaposition, wordplay, riddle and ancient wisdom.
Two opposed images are fleetingly sketched, like a shooting star that prickles a borrowed memory in the back of the reader's mind, presented in a compressed form of conflicting forces that coexist in an imperfect but solid balance.
A light goes on, a small dot of blinding iridescence sparkles unevenly and the chirping of cicada, the splashing frog, the cawing crow are brought to life for a split of a second, only to be lost again to the deafening sound of an inanimate painting. Wait… Did that blade of grass dance, the branch pregnant with cherry blossoms creak? I listen to the steady pathway of sandals and stick performing a meticulous choreography of life experience distilled in metaphor, in visual aphorism.
Basho believed the lightness of words could bear the burden of meaning. His poetry had to mirror the simplicity of his life, the serenity of his fears, the anxiety of his long journeys, both torment and regeneration. The wanderer in him defeated the foibled human and liberated the poet.
The rigorous technique and the strict rules of the renga masters became obsolete for Basho's purpose to illustrate without interfering with the inherent essence of words. He wanted to elevate the poetic expression to the purest of artistic forms and so his influence is mostly absent in his creative output, infusing the haiku with the power to transfigure the particular into the universal, prompting interaction between poem and reader.
He couldn’t imagine that a new school of poets would ensue from this vision and set the founding pillars of Japanese aesthetics.
Take the poem below. One can detect Basho’s resolution to live a humble life devoid of material luxuries, although there is a tenuous shadow of dissatisfaction that reveals a man who still hasn’t found his place in the world:
“flowers in this world
my wine is white
my rice is dark” 163
Black and white present a visual contrast to the vivid image of flowers, which might imply the beginning of springtime, and in turn forebode the transitory buoyancy of the seasons. The crisscrossed colors used to describe basic ingredients of the Japanese diet imply their poor-quality and a lifestyle based on simplicity that is deeply attached to nature. And so the general statement of the first line is narrowed down to the ordinary traits of daily life and elevates it to the transcendental with its associative connotations.
Or,
“rippling waves
the fragrance of wind
in their rhythm” 964
This is a fine example of a haiku that distorts sensory perception. Is it the wind that we smell or the briny swell stirred by the sea breeze? Where is the cause-effect that would allow the reader to separate the waves from the wind, the fragrance from the rhythm? It is nowhere to be found because a cohesive force unites these words into an indivisible oneness that can’t be disassembled, and so sound, vision and smell are all scrambled up in a static snapshot of movement.
The man who wrote these verses was fully immersed in poetry. He himself became poetry and the boundaries between creator and creation disappeared without sacrificing the magic spell of his talents, of his delicately chosen words.
Words that still light up the night sky today like flaring, fluttering fireflies in the darkness.
seasons in a journey
worn sandals and words
into the wild blue yonder
******
Note on the edition: This collection includes the complete haiku (1012 poems) by Basho, presented in seven sections that link the poet’s artistic development to the main biographical events that shaped his creative output.
The supplementary material includes a detailed exposition on the haiku techniques and an incredibly well researched commentary with the original Japanese and a literal translation for each poem, which helps the reader to understand the wordplay and the “double entendre” that is ever present in the poems. Translating Japanese is a challenging, some might even say an impossible mission but I think Reichhold’s dedication and scholarship allows the reader to grasp Basho’s genius in its full splendor.
March 22, 2017
it had to be
it had to be until
the end of the year
Here's the book of all of Basho's haikus, which took 10 years for the translator to compile, and the quality shows well. The haikus are divided in seven development periods - with biographical sketches - from 1662 to 1664, and there are 1011 haikus to read. (Which is why it's a good idea to take it slow to read all of them - otherwise some numbness might set, which happened to me *oops*) Some haikus have short explanations attached to them, but may are more explained at the notes section at the back, with useful appendix stuff including haiku terms and Basho's biography in brief.
winter confinement
again I'll lean on
this post
Some poems are shown in 2-3 ways one can translate the text, or the poem has more than one version made. One or two are unfinished, the last line isn't there. Basho worked on rooting out pretentiousness and unnecessary earthy humor, and was a true perfectionist (which is why some haikus were worked on again and again). That said, he didn't really care much what his last haiku was - no real death poem from him - but really, what was there was well suited to be last; he was that good.
clear cascade
scattered on the waves
green pine needles
I have already read the "Narrow Road To Deep North" part (have it as a separate book). These haikus were so refreshing and simple, and with such great moods, even felt like I couldn't have enough of it. I could put so many haikus in this review that touched me. This is really one book that could be read while drinking some good tea...
hurry up and bloom
the festival approaches
chrysanthemum flowers
it had to be until
the end of the year
Here's the book of all of Basho's haikus, which took 10 years for the translator to compile, and the quality shows well. The haikus are divided in seven development periods - with biographical sketches - from 1662 to 1664, and there are 1011 haikus to read. (Which is why it's a good idea to take it slow to read all of them - otherwise some numbness might set, which happened to me *oops*) Some haikus have short explanations attached to them, but may are more explained at the notes section at the back, with useful appendix stuff including haiku terms and Basho's biography in brief.
winter confinement
again I'll lean on
this post
Some poems are shown in 2-3 ways one can translate the text, or the poem has more than one version made. One or two are unfinished, the last line isn't there. Basho worked on rooting out pretentiousness and unnecessary earthy humor, and was a true perfectionist (which is why some haikus were worked on again and again). That said, he didn't really care much what his last haiku was - no real death poem from him - but really, what was there was well suited to be last; he was that good.
clear cascade
scattered on the waves
green pine needles
I have already read the "Narrow Road To Deep North" part (have it as a separate book). These haikus were so refreshing and simple, and with such great moods, even felt like I couldn't have enough of it. I could put so many haikus in this review that touched me. This is really one book that could be read while drinking some good tea...
hurry up and bloom
the festival approaches
chrysanthemum flowers
January 23, 2022
چه بسیار خاطره ها
که در یاد می آورند
شکوفه های گیلاس
با کدامین صدا
خواهی گریست عنکبوت
در باد خزان؟
شب قیرگون
آشیان یافته فریاد می زند
مرغ باران
Haiku basho, Kinsaku Matsuo
که در یاد می آورند
شکوفه های گیلاس
با کدامین صدا
خواهی گریست عنکبوت
در باد خزان؟
شب قیرگون
آشیان یافته فریاد می زند
مرغ باران
Haiku basho, Kinsaku Matsuo
March 17, 2019
- every poem is such a beautifully crystallized moment in the flow of time
'Winter solitude
In a world of one colour
The sound of the wind'
'Sicking on journey,
My dream run about
The desolate field'
'Spring morning marvel
lovely nameless little hill
on a sea of mist'
‘In the twilight rain
these brilliant-hued
hibiscus . . .
A lovely sunset’
‘Lady butterfly
perfumes her wings
by floating
Over the orchid’
'Winter solitude
In a world of one colour
The sound of the wind'
'Sicking on journey,
My dream run about
The desolate field'
'Spring morning marvel
lovely nameless little hill
on a sea of mist'
‘In the twilight rain
these brilliant-hued
hibiscus . . .
A lovely sunset’
‘Lady butterfly
perfumes her wings
by floating
Over the orchid’
August 16, 2009
Excellent book of poetry. The translator did a great job of interspersing the poems with biographical sketches that did not go down lengthy tangents into her own thoughts on the writer's life and his work. These sketches were succinct and enhanced this collection of Haiku by Basho. Some of my favorites:
snowy morning
all alone I chew
dried salmon
early autumn
the sea and rice fields
one green
deep-rooted leeks
when finished washing
the coldness
winter mums
covered with rice flour
edge of the grinder
If you have never enjoyed the subtlety and craft of Haiku before then this would be an excellent collection to start with. If you have read Basho compilations before you will likely find a smattering of new pieces you haven't seen before (the translator claims this is the first complete volume of his Haiku), making it is still definitely worth the read.
Basho is truly the master, and Reinhold, like a good Haiku writer, removed herself from the subject as much as possible, putting together a fine work. A solid five stars.
snowy morning
all alone I chew
dried salmon
early autumn
the sea and rice fields
one green
deep-rooted leeks
when finished washing
the coldness
winter mums
covered with rice flour
edge of the grinder
If you have never enjoyed the subtlety and craft of Haiku before then this would be an excellent collection to start with. If you have read Basho compilations before you will likely find a smattering of new pieces you haven't seen before (the translator claims this is the first complete volume of his Haiku), making it is still definitely worth the read.
Basho is truly the master, and Reinhold, like a good Haiku writer, removed herself from the subject as much as possible, putting together a fine work. A solid five stars.
September 23, 2015
I'm happy to say that Basho: The Complete Haiku is everything one would anticipate and more. For the dedicated reader and fan of Basho, it's all here: 1011 haiku, the complete output of a relatively taciturn haiku master (in comparison, Issa wrote over 20,000 haiku), all with accompanying notes, from a few words to paragraph length explications. The presentation method is chronological, as it should be, and divided up into 7 phases (as opposed to the standard 5 phases: see Makoto Ueda's Matsuo Basho) and each section is preceded by biographical info important to the given period. I found this method extremely helpful. To have presented the entire biography in the forward matter would have removed an immediacy that deepens understanding and necessitated much flipping back and forth. The appendices and back matter are a real bonus, including sections on haiku techniques, a chronology of Basho's life, a glossary of literary terms and a selected, succinct bibliography. For biographical detail, Reichhold seems to lean heavily on Makoto Ueda's seminal biography (which I'm reading now - ok, so the push isn't entirely over) but that's to be expected.
Down to the crux, however: the poems themselves. These translations veer away from the often disasterous academic all-inclusive approach. The translations are unique, lyrical, and eminently readable without dumbing down for the English reader. In general, there is a stripped down, less is more approach, somewhat reminiscent of the translation work of Lucien Styrk and Robert Hass. One thing this collection solidified for me, the non-academic reader as opposed to Japanese literary scholar, is how much I don't know and never really will about the original intent of what I feel to be a majority of these poems (and by extension, any translations from any of the haiku masters, including beloved Issa). The notes of both this Reichhold edition and of the Landis Barnhill edition I reviewed previously are what really brought this important point home and made me think long and hard about myself as reader.
The conclusion I've drawn from all this "thunking" is simply that the poems that connect, the ones that get through to a novice like myself, are those that have a universal appeal that transcends translation, technique, and cultural idiosyncrasies. I'm talking the spirit of haiku here and perhaps the universal impetus to write haiku in the first place. A speaking to the human condition, who we are, and what we do (oh, Gauguin, bless you for your question mark). But wait, aren't haiku supposed to be objective not subjective, speaking to nature and leaving out the personal? Well, yes, this transcendent spirit I'm speaking of includes that and more. This concentration on nature is the where of the who and what we do: our place in the world, who we are being defined by what we are.
Ah, but enough of my personal revelation. On to the poems or, to paraphrase the incandescently beautiful Joe Strummer, how about some music now, eh?
Of the 1000 plus haiku, I marked 45 or so that grabbed me, held me down, and said, ok, what (or, more precisely, how) do you think now? Previously, I'd selected 35 for further review from the 700 plus Barnhill Landis edition, so the proportion is consistent, realizing that he was being selective (i.e. picking the best). The Reichhold edition confirms for me that the later work was the finest, Basho getting better and better with time. Here are a few of those 45. When possible, I've tried to select haiku not highlighted in previous postings from other editions in order to give a fuller portrait of the poet.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
autumn night
dashed into bits
in conversation
pine and cedar
to admire the wind
smell the sound
pine wind
needles falling on the water's
cool sound
already bent
the bamboo waits for snow
what a sight
glistening dew
not spilling from bush clover
still it sways
a morning glory
this also is not
my friend
a traveler's heart
it also should look like
chinquapin flowers
leave aside
literary talents
tree peony
year after year
the cherry tree nourished by
fallen blossoms
path of the sun
the hollyhock leans into
early summer rain
Down to the crux, however: the poems themselves. These translations veer away from the often disasterous academic all-inclusive approach. The translations are unique, lyrical, and eminently readable without dumbing down for the English reader. In general, there is a stripped down, less is more approach, somewhat reminiscent of the translation work of Lucien Styrk and Robert Hass. One thing this collection solidified for me, the non-academic reader as opposed to Japanese literary scholar, is how much I don't know and never really will about the original intent of what I feel to be a majority of these poems (and by extension, any translations from any of the haiku masters, including beloved Issa). The notes of both this Reichhold edition and of the Landis Barnhill edition I reviewed previously are what really brought this important point home and made me think long and hard about myself as reader.
The conclusion I've drawn from all this "thunking" is simply that the poems that connect, the ones that get through to a novice like myself, are those that have a universal appeal that transcends translation, technique, and cultural idiosyncrasies. I'm talking the spirit of haiku here and perhaps the universal impetus to write haiku in the first place. A speaking to the human condition, who we are, and what we do (oh, Gauguin, bless you for your question mark). But wait, aren't haiku supposed to be objective not subjective, speaking to nature and leaving out the personal? Well, yes, this transcendent spirit I'm speaking of includes that and more. This concentration on nature is the where of the who and what we do: our place in the world, who we are being defined by what we are.
Ah, but enough of my personal revelation. On to the poems or, to paraphrase the incandescently beautiful Joe Strummer, how about some music now, eh?
Of the 1000 plus haiku, I marked 45 or so that grabbed me, held me down, and said, ok, what (or, more precisely, how) do you think now? Previously, I'd selected 35 for further review from the 700 plus Barnhill Landis edition, so the proportion is consistent, realizing that he was being selective (i.e. picking the best). The Reichhold edition confirms for me that the later work was the finest, Basho getting better and better with time. Here are a few of those 45. When possible, I've tried to select haiku not highlighted in previous postings from other editions in order to give a fuller portrait of the poet.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
autumn night
dashed into bits
in conversation
pine and cedar
to admire the wind
smell the sound
pine wind
needles falling on the water's
cool sound
already bent
the bamboo waits for snow
what a sight
glistening dew
not spilling from bush clover
still it sways
a morning glory
this also is not
my friend
a traveler's heart
it also should look like
chinquapin flowers
leave aside
literary talents
tree peony
year after year
the cherry tree nourished by
fallen blossoms
path of the sun
the hollyhock leans into
early summer rain
July 20, 2025
Some of my favourites:
do not forget
that in the thicket are
plum blossoms
first celebrate
the flowers in your heart
confined in winter
first winter rain
even the monkey seems to want
A little straw raincoat
leaving Kyoto
travelling with the gods
numbering the days
do not forget
that in the thicket are
plum blossoms
first celebrate
the flowers in your heart
confined in winter
first winter rain
even the monkey seems to want
A little straw raincoat
leaving Kyoto
travelling with the gods
numbering the days
March 25, 2018
sometime i lost the flow but mostly good and will feel like super quick read but read again to find the stitch!
February 6, 2017
A stunningly researched and immaculately presented compilation of the the complete surviving poems of Matsuo Basho (1644-1694). It contains 1012 haiku divided into seven chapters with accompanying introductory texts; a section of notes on the intracasies of each poem and the problems of translation; a section on the techniques Basho uses; and a glossary of Japanese terms used.
This book initially posed a problem for me: how to read it so I could get the most out of the book. I'm a slow reader to begin with and didn't want to spend a month on this book as I did with The Tale of Genji. I eventually settled on reading it this way: I started with "Appendix 1: Haiku Techniques," then read the "Introduction." With each haiku, I flipped back to the "Notes" to read the note on that poem. It was daunting at first, going back and forth 2024 times, but soon became second nature and I'm glad I read it that way. Like Genji, this book, at the very least, provides the reader with a great cultural experience when the notes are read along with the text. To be fair, though, this book is probably best digested over a lifetime rather than a week.
I remember being taught about haiku in grade school: a 3-line, 17-syllable poem in a 5-7-5 sound scheme that presents an image in the first two lines that is followed by a non-sequitur in the third line. Not very sophisticated, but simplistic enough for a 5th grader to grasp the concept. At 51, I don't recall the various attempts I made at writing haiku for my homework assignment, but I do recall that the haiku in my school reader was about a frog jumping into a pond.
Reading this volume, I think it probably was this:
"old pond
a frog jumps into
the sound of water"
While this doesn't follow the 5-7-5 sound scheme in translation, the Japanese original does: "furu ike ya / kawaku tobikomu / mizu no oto" and it was probably fleshed out to make it fit into a 5-7-5 scheme.
Turns out, one of Matsuo Basho's.
Basho is one of Japan's most revered literary figures. (He has been deified by both the Shinto and Imperial religions.) He started out as a low-ranking samurai serving a feudal lord and publishing poems in anthologies; after leaving the lord's service, he continued publishing poems to gain prestige and status until he gathered enough pupils (who would provide food and shelter for him) to devote his life completely to writing. While he was never a monk, Basho spent most of his life living in poverty (the state most conducive to becoming one with his art) and travelling as one across the whole of Japan (joined by various pupils--who were responsible for most of Basho's output surviving to the present day as Basho only published one small book of poetry in his lifetime).
The poetry of Matsuo Basho is breathtaking in ts scope and startling in its intimacy. Each captures a single fleeting moment in time, listening to a cuckoo in the early morning hours outside a shrine or eating a bowl of jelly noodles with a friend. In fact, nearly half of the 1012 haiku in this book have a preceding note to them on the occasion of their writing. The least of his poems reveal a rigorous craftsmanship as he continually revises poems in search of the right word; the best of them border on divine revelation as the reader is given a glimpse of the essence of his image.
If I had to choose a single one poem in this volume to sum up this my thoughts and feelings about this extraordinary book, it would be this:
"this pine
sprouted in the age of the gods
now in autumn"
Am I in the autumn of my life? Do I pine for my younger days? Even if the answer to both are no, the works of Matsuo Basho sprouted from an age when gods really did walk the earth and his legacy is still as solid as the mighty pine. Would it add anything to know that the preface of this poem reads "Before the Shrine"?
I've already started rereading this book, but I expect this second reading will probably last the rest of my life.
This book initially posed a problem for me: how to read it so I could get the most out of the book. I'm a slow reader to begin with and didn't want to spend a month on this book as I did with The Tale of Genji. I eventually settled on reading it this way: I started with "Appendix 1: Haiku Techniques," then read the "Introduction." With each haiku, I flipped back to the "Notes" to read the note on that poem. It was daunting at first, going back and forth 2024 times, but soon became second nature and I'm glad I read it that way. Like Genji, this book, at the very least, provides the reader with a great cultural experience when the notes are read along with the text. To be fair, though, this book is probably best digested over a lifetime rather than a week.
I remember being taught about haiku in grade school: a 3-line, 17-syllable poem in a 5-7-5 sound scheme that presents an image in the first two lines that is followed by a non-sequitur in the third line. Not very sophisticated, but simplistic enough for a 5th grader to grasp the concept. At 51, I don't recall the various attempts I made at writing haiku for my homework assignment, but I do recall that the haiku in my school reader was about a frog jumping into a pond.
Reading this volume, I think it probably was this:
"old pond
a frog jumps into
the sound of water"
While this doesn't follow the 5-7-5 sound scheme in translation, the Japanese original does: "furu ike ya / kawaku tobikomu / mizu no oto" and it was probably fleshed out to make it fit into a 5-7-5 scheme.
Turns out, one of Matsuo Basho's.
Basho is one of Japan's most revered literary figures. (He has been deified by both the Shinto and Imperial religions.) He started out as a low-ranking samurai serving a feudal lord and publishing poems in anthologies; after leaving the lord's service, he continued publishing poems to gain prestige and status until he gathered enough pupils (who would provide food and shelter for him) to devote his life completely to writing. While he was never a monk, Basho spent most of his life living in poverty (the state most conducive to becoming one with his art) and travelling as one across the whole of Japan (joined by various pupils--who were responsible for most of Basho's output surviving to the present day as Basho only published one small book of poetry in his lifetime).
The poetry of Matsuo Basho is breathtaking in ts scope and startling in its intimacy. Each captures a single fleeting moment in time, listening to a cuckoo in the early morning hours outside a shrine or eating a bowl of jelly noodles with a friend. In fact, nearly half of the 1012 haiku in this book have a preceding note to them on the occasion of their writing. The least of his poems reveal a rigorous craftsmanship as he continually revises poems in search of the right word; the best of them border on divine revelation as the reader is given a glimpse of the essence of his image.
If I had to choose a single one poem in this volume to sum up this my thoughts and feelings about this extraordinary book, it would be this:
"this pine
sprouted in the age of the gods
now in autumn"
Am I in the autumn of my life? Do I pine for my younger days? Even if the answer to both are no, the works of Matsuo Basho sprouted from an age when gods really did walk the earth and his legacy is still as solid as the mighty pine. Would it add anything to know that the preface of this poem reads "Before the Shrine"?
I've already started rereading this book, but I expect this second reading will probably last the rest of my life.
November 19, 2014
"A poet's job is to look as things, not at things."
February 27, 2019
how touching
to exist after the storm
chrysanthemum
-Basho
When I first learned about haiku I was downright obsessed with them. I would write dozens and dozens of them. Sometimes several in the course of a single night (it would actually prevent me from getting to sleep ... but then I would wake up with fun stuff to read).
Of course, not all of them were good. Many were average to just terrible ... but others I still look back on and smile at. I just loved the challenge of trying to convey as much as possible using the smallest amount of words. The ability to capture a moment in time, perfecting it, and like a photographer when he waits for just the right moment, and he’s in that Goldilocks zone, and the sunlight is in that sweet spot.
Click.
And there you have it. Saved forever. In the simple sublimeness of a half dozen words you froze a memory. That’s another great use for haiku. A lot of times I’ll write a haiku about a certain feeling, tone, etc., and years later I’ll read it again and it still takes me back there as if I wrote yesterday and was enjoying that same experience.
Sometimes they are simple observations written in a beautiful way ... other times they are like riddles, where the object or topic is hidden, and can only be viewed through the imagination.
Take this Basho haiku for example.
no bell ringing
what does the village do
on a spring evening
There’s a lot of ambiguity in this poem. Why would there be bell ringing? Is it a form entertainment? We know more about what isn’t going on then what is. This is another thing that haiku is famous for. Because they are, by their nature, obscure and short on the details, it’s up to the reader to “finish the poem”. A good haiku doesn’t tell you what to feel, but rather shows you ... by using images and contrasts, the writer meets us halfway.
This is a great book that tells the life story of the most famous haiku writer that ever lived, Matsuo Basho. So famous in fact, that the Shinto religion basically exalted the man as a deity: “The Patron Saint of Haiku”. It includes over a thousand of his haiku, so it’s something to read a little bit here and there and come back too ... my mistake was probably reading these all a bit too quickly and getting fatigued or “numbed”, where you might have gained more from a particular haiku in small doses.
Many of these haiku are hard to connect too because of the distance of culture they were written in, and the length of time (400 years) that separates us from our modern world. But there is enough fantastic ones that makes you forget the ones you didn’t care so much about.
One of the my criticisms with the book is in an issue of translation. Some of these haiku seemed clunky ... and yet feels like I’ve read them before. Take this haiku for example.
from deep in the peony’s stamens
a bee crawls
a reluctant parting
For those familiar with the genre, it will hit you right away that this is incredibly wordy for a haiku and doesn’t really flow off the tongue all that well. Yet I remember reading this same haiku elsewhere only it was translated much more simply:
a bee
staggers out
of the peony
This version is much more clean and concise and does all the things the first version did without all the unnecessary wordiness such as “reluctant parting”. You can simply stay “staggers” and get the same message across. Alas, such is the nature of translating Japanese into English.
One of the reasons why Basho became so famous was how he redefined how people thought of poetry in his day ‘n’ age. People in that time period used pretentious language and only used poetry to talk about things of beauty and higher ideals. In a nutshell, it was something considered “high end” and not for the common folks to pursue. While Basho’s work often talked about the mundane and even things considered “too vulgar” to be used as poem. Like this particularly surprising zinger:
fleas and lice
now a horse pisses
by my pillow
Classy. It makes me think of a traveler being forced to sleep in a barn, and being suddenly awakened by the unexpected splash.
Here is a particular illuminating passage that does a good job at describing what a haiku often tries to achieve:
“Buddhist teachings and the poetry of Basho train us to search for the essence, the very being, of even the smallest, most common things. One of the goals of poetry is to penetrate this essence, to grab hold of it words and pass it on to the reader, so purely that the writer as author disappears. Only by stepping aside, by relinquishing the importance of being the author, can one capture and transmit the essence—the very is-ness—of a thing.” ... “A good haiku captures both the momentary and the eternal.”
Were I too conclude all the haiku I greatly enjoyed from this anthology this review would be way too long (and at the point, you might as well have just purchased the book instead of reading this view).
But I will list a dozen or so of some of my favorites:
—
——
—
people in this world
don’t see these flowers -
chestnuts under the eaves
from which flowering tree
I don’t know—
but the fragrance!
a dragonfly
unable to settle
on the grass
autumn night
dashed to bits
in conversation
clouds of fog
quickly doing their best to show
one hundred scenes
crawling out
from under the shed
toad’s voice
departure
but also a hopeful future
a green orange
each with its own light
fireflies in the trees
lodge in flowers
ears of barley
grasping for support
at the parting
human voices
returning on this road
autumn departure
if taken in my hand
it would vanish in hot tears
autumn frost
in the moonlight
a worm secretly burrows
into a chestnut
laziness
helped out of bed
by spring rain
leave aside
literary talents
tree peony
letting the mountain
move into the garden
a summer room
many islands
broken into pieces
summer’s sea
morning glories
in the daytime a lock lowered
on the gate
my dwelling
the moon’s square of light
at the window
now children
come run among jewels
hailstones
on a mountain path
where something might charm you
a wild violet
you make the fire
and I’ll show you something wonderful:
a big ball of snow!
wrapping dumplings
with one hand brushing back
her bangs
today is the day
people grow older
first wintry shower
unable to settle down
the traveling heart
a portable heater
sleep on a journey
then you will understand my poem
autumn winds
soon to die
yet showing no sign
the cicada’s voice
still scarlet
after the storm
peppers
-Tim
to exist after the storm
chrysanthemum
-Basho
When I first learned about haiku I was downright obsessed with them. I would write dozens and dozens of them. Sometimes several in the course of a single night (it would actually prevent me from getting to sleep ... but then I would wake up with fun stuff to read).
Of course, not all of them were good. Many were average to just terrible ... but others I still look back on and smile at. I just loved the challenge of trying to convey as much as possible using the smallest amount of words. The ability to capture a moment in time, perfecting it, and like a photographer when he waits for just the right moment, and he’s in that Goldilocks zone, and the sunlight is in that sweet spot.
Click.
And there you have it. Saved forever. In the simple sublimeness of a half dozen words you froze a memory. That’s another great use for haiku. A lot of times I’ll write a haiku about a certain feeling, tone, etc., and years later I’ll read it again and it still takes me back there as if I wrote yesterday and was enjoying that same experience.
Sometimes they are simple observations written in a beautiful way ... other times they are like riddles, where the object or topic is hidden, and can only be viewed through the imagination.
Take this Basho haiku for example.
no bell ringing
what does the village do
on a spring evening
There’s a lot of ambiguity in this poem. Why would there be bell ringing? Is it a form entertainment? We know more about what isn’t going on then what is. This is another thing that haiku is famous for. Because they are, by their nature, obscure and short on the details, it’s up to the reader to “finish the poem”. A good haiku doesn’t tell you what to feel, but rather shows you ... by using images and contrasts, the writer meets us halfway.
This is a great book that tells the life story of the most famous haiku writer that ever lived, Matsuo Basho. So famous in fact, that the Shinto religion basically exalted the man as a deity: “The Patron Saint of Haiku”. It includes over a thousand of his haiku, so it’s something to read a little bit here and there and come back too ... my mistake was probably reading these all a bit too quickly and getting fatigued or “numbed”, where you might have gained more from a particular haiku in small doses.
Many of these haiku are hard to connect too because of the distance of culture they were written in, and the length of time (400 years) that separates us from our modern world. But there is enough fantastic ones that makes you forget the ones you didn’t care so much about.
One of the my criticisms with the book is in an issue of translation. Some of these haiku seemed clunky ... and yet feels like I’ve read them before. Take this haiku for example.
from deep in the peony’s stamens
a bee crawls
a reluctant parting
For those familiar with the genre, it will hit you right away that this is incredibly wordy for a haiku and doesn’t really flow off the tongue all that well. Yet I remember reading this same haiku elsewhere only it was translated much more simply:
a bee
staggers out
of the peony
This version is much more clean and concise and does all the things the first version did without all the unnecessary wordiness such as “reluctant parting”. You can simply stay “staggers” and get the same message across. Alas, such is the nature of translating Japanese into English.
One of the reasons why Basho became so famous was how he redefined how people thought of poetry in his day ‘n’ age. People in that time period used pretentious language and only used poetry to talk about things of beauty and higher ideals. In a nutshell, it was something considered “high end” and not for the common folks to pursue. While Basho’s work often talked about the mundane and even things considered “too vulgar” to be used as poem. Like this particularly surprising zinger:
fleas and lice
now a horse pisses
by my pillow
Classy. It makes me think of a traveler being forced to sleep in a barn, and being suddenly awakened by the unexpected splash.
Here is a particular illuminating passage that does a good job at describing what a haiku often tries to achieve:
“Buddhist teachings and the poetry of Basho train us to search for the essence, the very being, of even the smallest, most common things. One of the goals of poetry is to penetrate this essence, to grab hold of it words and pass it on to the reader, so purely that the writer as author disappears. Only by stepping aside, by relinquishing the importance of being the author, can one capture and transmit the essence—the very is-ness—of a thing.” ... “A good haiku captures both the momentary and the eternal.”
Were I too conclude all the haiku I greatly enjoyed from this anthology this review would be way too long (and at the point, you might as well have just purchased the book instead of reading this view).
But I will list a dozen or so of some of my favorites:
—
——
—
people in this world
don’t see these flowers -
chestnuts under the eaves
from which flowering tree
I don’t know—
but the fragrance!
a dragonfly
unable to settle
on the grass
autumn night
dashed to bits
in conversation
clouds of fog
quickly doing their best to show
one hundred scenes
crawling out
from under the shed
toad’s voice
departure
but also a hopeful future
a green orange
each with its own light
fireflies in the trees
lodge in flowers
ears of barley
grasping for support
at the parting
human voices
returning on this road
autumn departure
if taken in my hand
it would vanish in hot tears
autumn frost
in the moonlight
a worm secretly burrows
into a chestnut
laziness
helped out of bed
by spring rain
leave aside
literary talents
tree peony
letting the mountain
move into the garden
a summer room
many islands
broken into pieces
summer’s sea
morning glories
in the daytime a lock lowered
on the gate
my dwelling
the moon’s square of light
at the window
now children
come run among jewels
hailstones
on a mountain path
where something might charm you
a wild violet
you make the fire
and I’ll show you something wonderful:
a big ball of snow!
wrapping dumplings
with one hand brushing back
her bangs
today is the day
people grow older
first wintry shower
unable to settle down
the traveling heart
a portable heater
sleep on a journey
then you will understand my poem
autumn winds
soon to die
yet showing no sign
the cicada’s voice
still scarlet
after the storm
peppers
-Tim
January 5, 2019
I first encountered Basho in Sam Hamill's translation in a university course taught by poet David McCann; later, I devoured Robert Hass's translation, on the poet Peter Richards's recommendation. I loved his sensibility and deep spirituality immediately, and he remains my favorite haiku poet (although, to this day, I am still occasionally troubled by his self-avowed refusal to help the small child and the two prostitutes he met on his deep north journey...). This edition, translated by Jane Reichhold, distinguishes itself by being the first edition to include every single haiku Basho ever wrote, grouped into sections based on the poet's life chronology and development. If your lack of familiarity with the translator's other work makes you wary to sample it (as I was wary to open this book until recently, despite having received it as a Christmas gift eight years ago!), you'll be reassured to learn there is a comprehensive appendix in the back that includes, for each poem, the original Japanese characters, a romanization, and a literal word-for-word gloss, in addition to explanatory notes that elucidate the allusions, cultural and historical context, ribald puns, double entendres, etc. This was a great book to begin the year with (and not only because it mentions the New Year holiday more times than probably any other book in existence). A few poems that stood out to me this time around:
clams survived
and became valuable
year's end
the moon disappears
afterward the desk has
four corners
(written on the occasion of a friend's father's death)
vast grassy plain
may nothing touch you
but your hat
(a valedictory poem for a friend departing on a journey)
wrapping dumplings
with one hand brushing back
her bangs
clams survived
and became valuable
year's end
the moon disappears
afterward the desk has
four corners
(written on the occasion of a friend's father's death)
vast grassy plain
may nothing touch you
but your hat
(a valedictory poem for a friend departing on a journey)
wrapping dumplings
with one hand brushing back
her bangs
November 4, 2012
A great way for the non-Japanese speaker to begin to appreciate the depth and subtlety of Basho's work. The scholarship is an accessible view into the man, his time, and the culture in which he worked. The notes are an excellent explanatory source and the alternate translations helped me get an idea of the subtle nuances Basho is working with. An enjoyable book one can dip into and come back to again and again.
December 21, 2020
Essential
July 19, 2013
reading Basho’s poems
learning on a summer’s day
I ‘m a poor haijin
The 2008 collection Basho: The Complete Haiku by Matsuo Basho is translated by Jane Reichhold with an introduction, biography and notes. This is an excellent introduction to traditional Japanese haiku. Basho (1644-1694), after all, was an early practitioner and developer of this unique poetic art form; he set many of the standards for this type of poetry that are still practiced today.
Reichhold, a honored haijin (i.e. haiku writer) in her own right, has gathered all of Basho’s haiku under one cover. Surprisingly there are only 1012. After an interesting introduction, the haiku are presented in chapters that describe seven different stages or passages of the poet’s life.
Then the verses are examined again in Notes where each haiku is shown in Japanese, Romanized Japanese for the sound counters, and in English. Each poem has the year it was written and to which season it belongs along with expository notes to explain the subtlety of the verse in terms of history, symbols and the Japanese language. Reichhold also provides a descriptive list of 33 haiku techniques to help the reader to better appreciate the art form as well as other useful back matter. This is an excellent book that I would add to my personal library.
learning on a summer’s day
I ‘m a poor haijin
The 2008 collection Basho: The Complete Haiku by Matsuo Basho is translated by Jane Reichhold with an introduction, biography and notes. This is an excellent introduction to traditional Japanese haiku. Basho (1644-1694), after all, was an early practitioner and developer of this unique poetic art form; he set many of the standards for this type of poetry that are still practiced today.
Reichhold, a honored haijin (i.e. haiku writer) in her own right, has gathered all of Basho’s haiku under one cover. Surprisingly there are only 1012. After an interesting introduction, the haiku are presented in chapters that describe seven different stages or passages of the poet’s life.
Then the verses are examined again in Notes where each haiku is shown in Japanese, Romanized Japanese for the sound counters, and in English. Each poem has the year it was written and to which season it belongs along with expository notes to explain the subtlety of the verse in terms of history, symbols and the Japanese language. Reichhold also provides a descriptive list of 33 haiku techniques to help the reader to better appreciate the art form as well as other useful back matter. This is an excellent book that I would add to my personal library.
March 8, 2012
I am not a poetry or a haiku buff.
Frankly, there are a lot of uninteresting poems in the book. Lots of cherry blossoms and lots of snow.
But when they work, they _work_. My ratio is about one memorable poem for every 20 or so. Since there are 1,011 poems in the book, thats really not bad at all.
Really, what one reads is the translator. I've yet to compare two different translators' renditions, but from what I've read online of Basho's this book is pretty solid.
Moreover, the translator is judicious and gives very detailed notes of each translation. Each poem's first line is indexed, which is helpful as they seldom have titles.
The biography and discussion are well written and to-the-point.
Also of note is that the book offers the complete works of Basho, not an anthology.
Frankly, there are a lot of uninteresting poems in the book. Lots of cherry blossoms and lots of snow.
But when they work, they _work_. My ratio is about one memorable poem for every 20 or so. Since there are 1,011 poems in the book, thats really not bad at all.
Really, what one reads is the translator. I've yet to compare two different translators' renditions, but from what I've read online of Basho's this book is pretty solid.
Moreover, the translator is judicious and gives very detailed notes of each translation. Each poem's first line is indexed, which is helpful as they seldom have titles.
The biography and discussion are well written and to-the-point.
Also of note is that the book offers the complete works of Basho, not an anthology.
March 31, 2009
The kind of book you can keep reading forever. Great layout and intro to each "chapter" gives you a wonderful view into the poetic genius and life of Basho. Also has a nice section with original Japanese and direct translations.
September 2, 2008
I read this book while sitting on a rock surrounded by gardens at a Buddhist temple with someone dear.
February 11, 2015
A perfect antidote for modern complexity. Think simply and beautifully, the author would say. A whole world in 3 lines.
March 24, 2024
"At one of his last gatherings with the Tokyo group, Basho tried once more to explain his technique of lightness. "The style I have in mind these days is a light one in form and in the method of linking verses, one that gives the impression of looking at a shallow river with a sandy bed."
It is no wonder that several of his disciples were so at odds with this idea that they broke away from Basho and started new groups. They tried to retain the direction of his previous works, which reflected a belief that all things are mutually communicable and that a person can become one with other creations of nature."
It is no wonder that several of his disciples were so at odds with this idea that they broke away from Basho and started new groups. They tried to retain the direction of his previous works, which reflected a belief that all things are mutually communicable and that a person can become one with other creations of nature."
February 18, 2023
The seventeenth-century poet Basho (who named himself after a banana tree, Musa basjoo) was kniwn as the Saint of Haiku. This book contains all 1000+ haikus he wrote in English translation.
Often ephemeral, sometimes incomprehensible, sometimes enlightening, causing a subtle shift in consciousness, these haiku are to be consumed over and over again.
Apart from the translations, all haiku are also provided in Japanese, transliteration and word-by-word translation.
My only wish is to own a good hard copy of this book.
Often ephemeral, sometimes incomprehensible, sometimes enlightening, causing a subtle shift in consciousness, these haiku are to be consumed over and over again.
Apart from the translations, all haiku are also provided in Japanese, transliteration and word-by-word translation.
My only wish is to own a good hard copy of this book.
December 27, 2021
Would not recommend this unless you either really understand poetry, have the time to dissect, and don’t mind words thrown into a page.
These poems are words thrown into a page in an artistic way. It took em some time to finish because I needed the time to be able to clear my mind and dissect it.
These poems are words thrown into a page in an artistic way. It took em some time to finish because I needed the time to be able to clear my mind and dissect it.
April 20, 2019
There's so much more to this than frogs jumping into old ponds... Stolen so many ideas for poetry lessons! Only problem is/I cannot stop counting/my syllables now.
April 17, 2024
This was most satisfying.
July 22, 2020
This is the one (1) book I had checked out when the pandemic hit and the libraries closed. All things considered, it's a really chill book to have if you can only have one book.
Bashō (pronounced BAH-SHOW, means "banana tree") was the pen name of Matsuo Chūemon Munefusa, a Japanese writer who lived during the late 17th century and wrote from 1662 until his death in 1694. This is a complete collection of his haiku, a poem form known by the West for its three-line pattern of 5-7-5 sound units, but it's so much more than that, and Reichhold's examination of Bashō's poetry gave me a deeper understanding of haiku as well as a new appreciation for it.
The book starts with an introduction to Bashō, the political and cultural climate of his time and his life and legacy, and then the poems are broken up into seven chronological sections, each with their own brief introduction. Each poem is numbered, and in the back—for each poem—you can find the original, a romaji rendering, an exact translation, and Reichhold's notes, which are an excellent reference and include historical, geographical, and cultural context, personal details about Bashō's trips and daily life, as well as notes on language usage, word play and possible sexual references. Also included are the year the poem was written and what season it represents.
Reichhold's translations are faithful to Bashō's words, and occasionally she even offers two or more takes on the same poem in order to illustrate the nuance present in the language of the original. Because of this, there are times her translations don't make much sense without the additional information in the translator's notes. I read this book side by side with David Young's selected translations in Moon Woke Me Up Nine Times and I could see the different choices they made in their translations, and it was fascinating to explore how those decisions changed my understanding—and enjoyment—of the poems. In general, I prefer Young's more lyrical translations, which, unlike Reichhold's, never require any additional context. At times, though, Young includes punctuation like question marks and exclamation points that feel too loud to me, and in those cases I often preferred Reichhold's quieter versions.
The book contains a glossary of notable terms, a first line index, and even an appendix with thirty-three haiku techniques with explanations and examples. I almost wish I'd read that section first. It would have helped me better understand the format of the poems, including the idea that each haiku is make up of a phrase (one line, split into two) and a fragment.
All in all a wonderful guide to Bashō's poetry and a fantastic resource.
Contains: mention of rape on page 249 (in the notes for poem #79); implied child harm in poem #88.
Bashō (pronounced BAH-SHOW, means "banana tree") was the pen name of Matsuo Chūemon Munefusa, a Japanese writer who lived during the late 17th century and wrote from 1662 until his death in 1694. This is a complete collection of his haiku, a poem form known by the West for its three-line pattern of 5-7-5 sound units, but it's so much more than that, and Reichhold's examination of Bashō's poetry gave me a deeper understanding of haiku as well as a new appreciation for it.
The book starts with an introduction to Bashō, the political and cultural climate of his time and his life and legacy, and then the poems are broken up into seven chronological sections, each with their own brief introduction. Each poem is numbered, and in the back—for each poem—you can find the original, a romaji rendering, an exact translation, and Reichhold's notes, which are an excellent reference and include historical, geographical, and cultural context, personal details about Bashō's trips and daily life, as well as notes on language usage, word play and possible sexual references. Also included are the year the poem was written and what season it represents.
Reichhold's translations are faithful to Bashō's words, and occasionally she even offers two or more takes on the same poem in order to illustrate the nuance present in the language of the original. Because of this, there are times her translations don't make much sense without the additional information in the translator's notes. I read this book side by side with David Young's selected translations in Moon Woke Me Up Nine Times and I could see the different choices they made in their translations, and it was fascinating to explore how those decisions changed my understanding—and enjoyment—of the poems. In general, I prefer Young's more lyrical translations, which, unlike Reichhold's, never require any additional context. At times, though, Young includes punctuation like question marks and exclamation points that feel too loud to me, and in those cases I often preferred Reichhold's quieter versions.
The book contains a glossary of notable terms, a first line index, and even an appendix with thirty-three haiku techniques with explanations and examples. I almost wish I'd read that section first. It would have helped me better understand the format of the poems, including the idea that each haiku is make up of a phrase (one line, split into two) and a fragment.
All in all a wonderful guide to Bashō's poetry and a fantastic resource.
Contains: mention of rape on page 249 (in the notes for poem #79); implied child harm in poem #88.
June 30, 2026
tldr: Fitzsimons delivers a much appreciated compilation and explanation of each poem, but his own translations leave much to be desired. In short, I very, very much appreciate Fitzsimons’ close analysis and explanation of each poem, even including literary allusions that Basho must have used in his composition. That alone redeems the book for me. For those considering buying this book, I do recommend it for the analysis alone; however, you might want to purchase another book for better translations of these poems.
I see that there are not many reviews on this relatively new book on Basho, so it is a little bit daunting for me to write such a long review. I don’t mean to influence your opinion before you buy this book; rather, the following are just a collection of my thoughts regarding this book and my experience reading it.
PROS: This book provides a comprehensive compilation of most, if not all, of Basho’s (currently known) poems.
In addition to providing a good anthology of Basho’s poetry, Fitzsimons provides a good explanation and analysis of every poem in an easy way. With his remarks, I definitely feel like I understand the poetry better. Sometimes, he comments on the history; other times, the wordplay. His insight even extends to literary and cultural history, geographical commentary, and many other helpful tidbits.
There are a couple of innovations in Fitzsimons’ translation that I can appreciate. The main one is a new way of denoting the cutting word. The cutting word in haiku is the word that splits the poem into two juxtaposed halves. The deeper meaning of the poem is found through the unity of this juxtaposition. Like a puzzle, the cutting word snaps together the grooves of two seemingly independent puzzle pieces to reveal a hidden, bigger picture. Usually in haiku translation, the cutting word is denoted through artificial punctuation, either a comma or a dash. But in the actual Japanese original, there is no such punctuation. Here, Fitzsimons finds a way to convey the cutting word very naturally through the creative use of capitalization. The cutting word in Fitzsimons’ translations is denoted with a capital letter. Brilliant!
Another one of Fitzsimons’ strengths is his commitment to wordplay. Here is an example:
As Fitzsimons remarks, Japanese poets often use the sound of the cuckoo to denote a change in seasons. More specifically, the season changes swiftly after the first call of the cuckoo. In English, the word “cuckoo” is an onomatopoeia for the sound a cuckoo makes, which means that the first call of a cuckoo is the “cuck” sound. Here, Fitzsimons separates the word “cuckoo” into two parts to help denote the onomatopoeic sound, especially its first call. Brilliant!
CONS: Having said that... the English translations of these Japanese poems are, in my opinion, not so great.
Fitzsimons advertises this book as the only one to stay true to form, but what he sacrifices greatly is quality and spirit. Before we translate any language with commitment to form, it’s important to note why the form became such a way. In Japanese haiku, the form, such as the famous 5-7-5 for example, arose because it is lyrical and melodic in the Japanese language. Japanese sounds often end in vowels, much like Italian or Spanish, so adding a bit of rhythm to the haiku gives it a catchy, sing-song quality. In English, our equivalent is likely iambic pentameter and other metred rhymes. That’s why, in general, when I see poetry translations with commitment to form, I always have a question mark in my head. Is this the best way? What would be the English equivalent of the effect that the form wants to convey?
Fitzsimons himself comments on one of Basho’s teachings on haiku, saying, “Even if you have three or four extra syllables – or as many as five or seven – you need not worry as long as the verse sounds right. If even one syllable stagnates in your mouth, give it careful scrutiny.” To me, this statement shows that Basho prefers content over form (and, indeed, he has written poetry of irregular form).
Yet, Fitzsimons proceeds with the following paragraph by writing, “This translation is the first to adhere strictly to form.” So what? Adherence to form is an added bonus only if the translation is faithful to the spirit and the content. Otherwise, it is very distracting. Consider one of the first poems Fitzsimons introduces us to—a poem that Basho wrote on his deathbed:
What is the “a” in “a-wandering” doing here? To me, it seems like just an extra syllable to fulfill form, which is very distracting and, quite frankly, infuriating. Nor is the meaning of the poem well conveyed (i.e. though the poet is ill during a journey, he is still traveling in his dreams).
Compare this to another translation:
Yet another: Perhaps the most famous of Basho’s haiku, and arguably the most famous haiku of all time, is translated by Fitzsimons as:
Ignoring the forced extra syllables (“old-en”, “now”, “song-frog”), having read this translation, it is hard to imagine or even believe that this is probably the best haiku ever written. That is because this haiku is the best not for its static form, but for its ideals and spirit. What this haiku means to me is the sudden “aha!” epiphany (the ker-plunk sound of a frog diving into water) that follows from deep meditation or confusion (the ancient pond). For this, I much prefer Yuasa’s beautiful (albeit wordy) translation:
Nevertheless, I am keeping this book because it is a good anthology and collection for my Ikea bookshelf library, and though the translations are not my cup of tea, I definitely appreciate everything else it has to offer.
Rating: 2/5
I see that there are not many reviews on this relatively new book on Basho, so it is a little bit daunting for me to write such a long review. I don’t mean to influence your opinion before you buy this book; rather, the following are just a collection of my thoughts regarding this book and my experience reading it.
PROS: This book provides a comprehensive compilation of most, if not all, of Basho’s (currently known) poems.
In addition to providing a good anthology of Basho’s poetry, Fitzsimons provides a good explanation and analysis of every poem in an easy way. With his remarks, I definitely feel like I understand the poetry better. Sometimes, he comments on the history; other times, the wordplay. His insight even extends to literary and cultural history, geographical commentary, and many other helpful tidbits.
There are a couple of innovations in Fitzsimons’ translation that I can appreciate. The main one is a new way of denoting the cutting word. The cutting word in haiku is the word that splits the poem into two juxtaposed halves. The deeper meaning of the poem is found through the unity of this juxtaposition. Like a puzzle, the cutting word snaps together the grooves of two seemingly independent puzzle pieces to reveal a hidden, bigger picture. Usually in haiku translation, the cutting word is denoted through artificial punctuation, either a comma or a dash. But in the actual Japanese original, there is no such punctuation. Here, Fitzsimons finds a way to convey the cutting word very naturally through the creative use of capitalization. The cutting word in Fitzsimons’ translations is denoted with a capital letter. Brilliant!
Another one of Fitzsimons’ strengths is his commitment to wordplay. Here is an example:
“A little while to / await the call of the cuck- / oo a thousand years”
As Fitzsimons remarks, Japanese poets often use the sound of the cuckoo to denote a change in seasons. More specifically, the season changes swiftly after the first call of the cuckoo. In English, the word “cuckoo” is an onomatopoeia for the sound a cuckoo makes, which means that the first call of a cuckoo is the “cuck” sound. Here, Fitzsimons separates the word “cuckoo” into two parts to help denote the onomatopoeic sound, especially its first call. Brilliant!
CONS: Having said that... the English translations of these Japanese poems are, in my opinion, not so great.
Fitzsimons advertises this book as the only one to stay true to form, but what he sacrifices greatly is quality and spirit. Before we translate any language with commitment to form, it’s important to note why the form became such a way. In Japanese haiku, the form, such as the famous 5-7-5 for example, arose because it is lyrical and melodic in the Japanese language. Japanese sounds often end in vowels, much like Italian or Spanish, so adding a bit of rhythm to the haiku gives it a catchy, sing-song quality. In English, our equivalent is likely iambic pentameter and other metred rhymes. That’s why, in general, when I see poetry translations with commitment to form, I always have a question mark in my head. Is this the best way? What would be the English equivalent of the effect that the form wants to convey?
Fitzsimons himself comments on one of Basho’s teachings on haiku, saying, “Even if you have three or four extra syllables – or as many as five or seven – you need not worry as long as the verse sounds right. If even one syllable stagnates in your mouth, give it careful scrutiny.” To me, this statement shows that Basho prefers content over form (and, indeed, he has written poetry of irregular form).
Yet, Fitzsimons proceeds with the following paragraph by writing, “This translation is the first to adhere strictly to form.” So what? Adherence to form is an added bonus only if the translation is faithful to the spirit and the content. Otherwise, it is very distracting. Consider one of the first poems Fitzsimons introduces us to—a poem that Basho wrote on his deathbed:
“On a journey stricken / Dreams a-wandering around / Stalks and stubble-fields”
What is the “a” in “a-wandering” doing here? To me, it seems like just an extra syllable to fulfill form, which is very distracting and, quite frankly, infuriating. Nor is the meaning of the poem well conveyed (i.e. though the poet is ill during a journey, he is still traveling in his dreams).
Compare this to another translation:
“Sick on a journey / dreams roam about / on a withered moor” (Trans. Haruo Shirane)
“Ill on a journey / my dreams run around / withered fields” (Trans. William J. Higginson)
Yet another: Perhaps the most famous of Basho’s haiku, and arguably the most famous haiku of all time, is translated by Fitzsimons as:
“An olden pond now / A songfrog springs off into / The sound of water”
Ignoring the forced extra syllables (“old-en”, “now”, “song-frog”), having read this translation, it is hard to imagine or even believe that this is probably the best haiku ever written. That is because this haiku is the best not for its static form, but for its ideals and spirit. What this haiku means to me is the sudden “aha!” epiphany (the ker-plunk sound of a frog diving into water) that follows from deep meditation or confusion (the ancient pond). For this, I much prefer Yuasa’s beautiful (albeit wordy) translation:
“Breaking the silence / Of an ancient pond, / A frog jumped into water — / A deep resonance” (Trans. Nobuyuki Yuasa)
Nevertheless, I am keeping this book because it is a good anthology and collection for my Ikea bookshelf library, and though the translations are not my cup of tea, I definitely appreciate everything else it has to offer.
A confusing poem
Then Fitzsimons’ notes
Aha!
Rating: 2/5
July 10, 2010
"Good old Basho!" - James Bond, You Only Live Twice by Ian Fleming
With these words I was introduced via unconventional methods to this haiku master. Ian Fleming may have been a sexist and a racist - but his appreciation of the finer things in a less than refined atmosphere must be acknowledged.
Basho's haiku defined generations of Japanese haiku poetry - even earning him the status of a sort of haiku god or Kami as the Japanese call him. The poetry of haiku is very pared down expressions of nature in a set structure that is able to invoke the strongest of mental images from so little, that the power of haiku as an artform is underestimated.
Haiku appears in Western poetry and literature from everywhere from the James Bond books by Ian Fleming, to the Beat Generation poets, and even to stuff that's more contemporary like Zombie Haiku and Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club where the nameless narrator makes what's meant to be calming poems of nature into passive aggressive fury at society.
All this we wouldn't have without Basho - the much argued master of haiku who spent many years revising the haiku and travel journals he created as he lived a kind of monk lifestyle even though he was not ordained. He traveled in perilous times, but his tenacity to experience the nature Japanese society would later lose hold of is heartwarming when we now live in urbanised cities trying to shut nature away.
Highly recommended.
With these words I was introduced via unconventional methods to this haiku master. Ian Fleming may have been a sexist and a racist - but his appreciation of the finer things in a less than refined atmosphere must be acknowledged.
Basho's haiku defined generations of Japanese haiku poetry - even earning him the status of a sort of haiku god or Kami as the Japanese call him. The poetry of haiku is very pared down expressions of nature in a set structure that is able to invoke the strongest of mental images from so little, that the power of haiku as an artform is underestimated.
Haiku appears in Western poetry and literature from everywhere from the James Bond books by Ian Fleming, to the Beat Generation poets, and even to stuff that's more contemporary like Zombie Haiku and Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club where the nameless narrator makes what's meant to be calming poems of nature into passive aggressive fury at society.
All this we wouldn't have without Basho - the much argued master of haiku who spent many years revising the haiku and travel journals he created as he lived a kind of monk lifestyle even though he was not ordained. He traveled in perilous times, but his tenacity to experience the nature Japanese society would later lose hold of is heartwarming when we now live in urbanised cities trying to shut nature away.
Highly recommended.
January 5, 2009
A remarkably well assembled book. Haiku is so difficult to translate because of the slippery/polysemic nature of the Japanese, but on the whole the translations are nice. Good autobiographical notes at appropriate times, without interrupting the poetry.
The complete index in the back with Japanese and literal translations, along with explanatory notes is so valuable. There are a few notable grammatical errors that send the translations off, but not too many. The first-line index is nice, but it is based on her English translation, which makes finding something difficult if you're memory is someone else's translation (or your own). A Japanese first-line index would have made this work complete.
The complete index in the back with Japanese and literal translations, along with explanatory notes is so valuable. There are a few notable grammatical errors that send the translations off, but not too many. The first-line index is nice, but it is based on her English translation, which makes finding something difficult if you're memory is someone else's translation (or your own). A Japanese first-line index would have made this work complete.
January 26, 2009
I'm giving this book props for the tremendous scholarship that went into it. But unless you are really passionate about haiku you are unlikely to get much from this collection. For one thing, haiku have a sort of necessary immediacy about them and as such they exist in a cultural context that is very specific. Many, I would say most, of the haiku in this collection simply don't survive the transition from 17th century literary Japan to 21st century America. It may simply be that the translations could be better - I have no way of judging that. In any case, I found myself skimming the pages and by the end I was very glad to put the book down.
October 24, 2011
As far as I know this is the only complete volume of Basho's Haikus.
Although some Haiku themes can be a bit repetitive, they are so quick that you can easily move on if you feel he's - ahem - stuck on a theme. But overall it's a gorgeous, wonderful, inspiring book of wit, imagination, love, tenderness, peace, and just enough sorrow and loss to make you feel like you've truly seen the world through Basho's eyes once completed.
A wonderful, breathtaking journey that will make you want to write your own Haikus, read more great Haiku masters, and learn more about the great life of the unbelievable poet, thinker, philosopher and, ultimately, rationalist.
Although some Haiku themes can be a bit repetitive, they are so quick that you can easily move on if you feel he's - ahem - stuck on a theme. But overall it's a gorgeous, wonderful, inspiring book of wit, imagination, love, tenderness, peace, and just enough sorrow and loss to make you feel like you've truly seen the world through Basho's eyes once completed.
A wonderful, breathtaking journey that will make you want to write your own Haikus, read more great Haiku masters, and learn more about the great life of the unbelievable poet, thinker, philosopher and, ultimately, rationalist.
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