By the waters of Babylon we
sat down and wept (Psalms 137-1a)
Reading Oku no hosomichi in the
original Japanese for the first time this year gave me a much closer look at
what Basho seems to be saying, and one of the things that struck me was how
easily he was moved to tears: at Senju (tears of farewell), Maruyama (heroism of
the Sato women), Taga Castle (sense of history), Sue no Matsuyama (graves among
the pines), Hiraizumi ('unaware of the passage of time'); these are the recorded
instances. One can imagine the fatigue of the journey raising deep emotions in
the poet, and although Basho was known to fabricate and elaborate on occasion, I
do not doubt that he wept real tears.
My own haiku journey saw no such displays.
There were moments of boredom and frustration, but my abiding memories are of
the humour that pervaded the coach and a gathering feeling of compassion for all
sentient beings, that can only be described as haiku spirit. The KNT tour ended
at Yuwa-machi, but my own journey ended a week later at the tiny temple of
Gichuji on the shores of Lake Biwa, where the poet is buried. After all those
Basho statues and kuhi (stones inscribed with his poems), the Basho grave
displayed a minimum of fuss; in fact, it was only through his friendship with a
local lord that he was able to secure a decent grave at all. There is bush
clover -- Basho 's favourite hagi -- in the compound, and a small pond
containing not frogs but turtles, each with a number painted on their shells.
Well, I guess you have to be a bit of a nutcase to go all the way! As I sat
quietly on a rock, I heard music from the gymnasium of the primary school next
door. Children were doing calisthenics to what sounded like music by Ryuichi
Sakamoto. I felt quite deeply moved, if not to tears: just a feeling that
Basho had died, that it was sad he had died, but that he was still alive in
his poetry, and that like the music emanating from the school gym, his poetry
could cross many barriers.
To recount each and every memory
of the trip would fill many pages, but what I appreciated most about it was the
opportunity to slow down and live life on another level, away from Tokyo and
England. Even now, some two months later, I am still feeling the reverberations.
Before leaving for Japan, our winsome NHK producer, Aiba Kayoko, suggested to me
that I was making the trip to say "thank you to haiku'," but for
making the trip a success for me I must also thank Susumu and Debi, my
travelling companion Bruce Ross, Yumi, our tour guide, and everyone else for
putting up with my haiku and appalling smoking habit. God bless!
winter-promising
winds on Moon Mountain the coach
waiting silently
Daniel Gallimore
Read
Daniel's paper for WHF20002, Shakespeare
Bashô in this issue
Photo. "Pond at Gichuji"
by D.W. Bender
