Analysis Of The Poetry Of Matsuo Basho 5il43

The haiku is one of the most well known forms of poetry in the world. It is also one of the least understood outside of it's home. Originating in Japan, the haiku is known for its unique structure, confining poems to three lines with a limit of five syllables for the first and third line and seven syllables for the second line. This structure helps to generate much of the misunderstandings regarding haikus. Anyone familiar with long masterpieces such as Dante's Inferno or the Epic of Gilgamesh would be slightly thrown by the simplicity and abruptness that appears inherent to a haiku. The first question such a person would ask is, how could such a small and basic poem contain the depth and complexity that much Old World poetry is known for? How can these seemingly simple and sometimes disted lines contemplate a philosophical question? Such questions and condemnations, however, are wasted on the haiku. Haikus have the unique ability of conveying extremely deep and personal thoughts in few words and sometimes fewer lines. But the way in which these ideas are presented in a haiku is so alien to Westerners, it is impossible to be able to understand them without learning of the haiku's history and learning a bit about Japanese culture and symbolism. The song of the cuckoo, the chirp of the cicada, the resilience of bamboo; such imagery and symbols have great meaning in Japanese culture, but little or even none in Western culture. Truly, the best way to understand a haiku is to look at their history and look at some of the symbols often used in haikus. Haikus have long been Japan's favorite style of poetry, so much so that samurais would often write their death poems in the form of a haiku. But the term "haiku" is an invention of the 19th century; the history of the form goes back much farther than that. The haiku developed from the tanka form of Japanese poetry. Specifically, it developed from the first part of the tanka: the hokku. The hokku refers to the first three lines of a tanka poem and can easily be identified by its "5-75" syllabic structure. The tanka was often grouped into chains called a renga and used as entertainment at parties, especially by samurai. The hokku normally contained some observation on life or some sort of joke to set the mood for the rest of the tanka and as a result it was considered the most important part of the poem. This gave the author of the hokku, the hokku-ka, an elevated, almost revered status. One such hokku-ka, Matsuo Kinsaku, better known as Matsuo Basho, is considered one of the greatest hokku writers of all time as well as the father of the haiku, or the first great haiku-ka. In fact, if one wants to understand just how much depth a haiku can contain, it is perhaps best to look at the works of Matsuo Basho. Matsuo Kinsaku was born to a samurai family in 1644 at Iga-Ueno, a Japanese castle near Kyoto. His father, Matsuo Yozaemon, was a low-ranking samurai and a calligraphy teacher and his mother (who is unnamed) was also of the samurai class. As a result, he entered into the service of Todo Yoshidata as the Japanese equivalent of a page, serving his master while learning bushido, the way of the warrior. It was during this time that he began writing hokku and thus, this stage of his life paved the way for the rest of his career. In 1666, when Basho was 22 and Yoshitada had ed on, Basho moved to Kyoto and later Edo (modern-day Tokyo). This was the beginning of his compulsive traveling, a habit that greatly influenced his work. He

forsook the life of the samurai completely and never engaged in battle. In fact, he took no claim to an estate and lived in three huts throughout various points in his life. He began teaching, taking on disciples and teaching them how to write a proper hokku. According to Basho, "A good poem is one in which the form of the verse and the ing of its parts seem light as a shallow river flowing over its sandy bed." Matsuo Basho had many influences that contributed to his poetry. He was a man that appreciated nature. In fact, he changed his name to Basho after he was presented with a Basho (a broad-leafed banana tree) by one of his disciples. While the tree could not bear fruit due to Japan's climate, he was fond of the softness of its leaves. His love for nature is one of the main themes that can be seen throughout his haikus. In each one of his poems I have analyzed so far, all (we will cover five) have some reference to nature: nature in the form of flora and fauna and nature in the metaphysical sense. Indeed, Basho was also a philosopher and whereas our immediate thought is to relate philosophy to Socrates or Plato, he studied the works of Tchouang-tseu, a fourth century Chinese philosopher. Tchouang-tseu propounded the thought that man is powerless in the face of nature and thus unable to change it, an idea that influenced Basho so much that he often quoted Tchouang-tseu in his hokku. He was also influenced by Shinto beliefs, as will be seen in the poems I analyze. He was heavily influenced by Zen Buddhist philosophy, expecially the principle of karumi or "lightness." You will notice that none of Basho's poetry is executed in a serious or angry manner as his philosophy on poetry writing would suggest. While he does cover serious topics, his poems always have a light and reflective tone. Finally, Basho was a master of imagery: his poetry is highly renown for its ability to capture a scene in three simple lines. This mastery of imagery was greatly helped by his wanderlust, as many of the poems he wrote were inspired by things he saw on his travels. To show just how powerful a haiku can be and to understand why Basho is the best possible example of a great haiku-ka, I have chosen four of Basho's best haikus to examine. I have also chosen perhaps his most significant yet simple poems to include in this project. These poems are (as discussed): A monk sips morning tea, A cicada shell, A weathered skeleton, A cuckoo calls, and Matsuo Basho's death poem. One will realize that these poems don't follow the 5-7-5 format previously discussed, but this is a result of their translation. By the end of my analysis, I hope to show you just how powerful and dynamic haikus can be and, by extension, to erase any misconceptions about their depth caused by their brevity.

A monk sips morning tea,/ it's quiet,/ the chrysanthemum's flowering. This haiku immediately shows Basho's well known tendency to write about the world around him. It is also a prime example of his usage of imagery. During the Edo Period in Japan, this would not be an uncommon sight to a traveler. Now it is very easy to imagine that Basho simply saw these sights on one of his travels. When he went traveling, he often went alone and without any supplies, seeking the hospitality of Zen Buddhist monks and other poets as his only form of refuge. He could have very easily seen a monk sipping his tea in the morning and given the

calm atmosphere decided to write a poem. But even so, there's one part of the poem that stands out: "the chrysanthemum's flowering." To the uniformed, this simply says that the poem was written around spring time. The chrysanthemum, or "kiku", actually flowers in autumn, thus the Japanese see it as a symbol of autumn. But there is more to the flower than a reference for the time of year. The chrysanthemum's mere mention in this poem gives the haiku an entirely different meaning. In Japanese culture, the chrysanthemum is also a symbol of perfection. A Shinto belief (Shintoism places very high value on respecting nature), the Japanese see the way the chrysanthemum blooms as orderly and beautiful. The flower's petals unfold layer by layer from the outside inward and radiate like the sun. Order is important to the Japanese and is reflected in their everyday lives. The chrysanthemum is, to them, a natural representation of this order. So important to the Japanese is this flower, the title given to the throne of the emperor is the "Chrysanthemum Throne." If one looks, one will also see that the imperial family seal of Japan is actually a chrysanthemum motif. From this, we can say that Basho believes that the scene he is currtently viewing to be a thing of perfection. But why is that? Tea was extremely important in Japanese culture. So important in fact, there is a ritual devoted to the proper preparation and drinking of tea: the Japanese tea ceremony, also known as the way of tea. The ceremony varies depending on how formal the event is, but it is special in Japanese culture because tea preparation is seen as an art to the Japanese. That said, we could assume that Basho was watching the monk perform a shortened version of the tea ceremony. This conclusion is further backed by the fact that the tea ceremony has its roots in Zen Buddhist rituals. As we know, Basho was extremely fond of Zen Buddhism, so the tea ceremony would have had even greater significance to him. It is also possible that the monk was performing the perceived tea ceremony to show hospitality to Basho. This is called, "chakai." The final piece of this is much more subtle. When we look at the scene, we see that "A monk sips morning tea," and that "it's quiet." We automatically get the sense that everything is tranquil and peaceful. The quiet, the flowers, the relaxed monk all point toward peace. This is on the superficial level, however. While the overarching theme in this poem is perfection, there is a lesser theme that strengthens the main theme: peace. This peace relates to the monk: religious peace. Japan is a country that, as many others have, has been divided by religion. The Japanese were an isolationist people, so they are mostly left to their means and not disturbed by the outside world. Buddhism, however, found its way to Japan and found a great deal of success there. Historically, this makes no sense. When Christianity was introduced to Japan, it was eventually outlawed due to its conflicts with Japanese culture. Samurais were especially forbidden from practicing Christianity because it conflicted with their obligation to commit seppuku (honorable suicide) if necessary. So why when such intolerance was shown to Christianity was Buddhism so easily accepted? The simple answer is that it was able to blend into certain elements of Shintoism and was relatable to other parts of Japanese culture. In fact, even in modern Japan, Shintoism and Buddhism exist in a complex but

balanced system of belief and practices that has become an inseparable part of the culture. As we know, Basho was influenced by both Shintoism and Zen Buddhism, so we can conclude that his inclusion of a Shinto belief while talking about a Zen Buddhist monk is also a symbol of that unity and tolerance. This idea is further strengthened by the line "it's quiet," which also shows that there's no conflict between the two religions, only peace.

A cicada shell;/ it sang itself/ utterly away. This poem, like the haiku before it, deals with nature. To the Japanese, the cicada is not an annoying pest that comes out in the summer, rather it is a symbol of summer and is revered by the Japanese. Like American children try to collect fireflies in their nets, Japanese children try to catch cicadas. They even refer to it's loud chirping as a song and would go as far as to call the insect cute. Indeed, the cicada is highly valued in Japanese culture. But what significance does it have in Japanese art? It's all in the last line of the haiku: "utterly away." Japanese poets have long used the cicada as a symbol of evanescence and form. They appear from spring to late summer, and as previously mentioned, their coming is seen as a signal of summer. They are always singing, all throughout the summer, and then they disappear around early fall. In this, we see the form and order of which the Japanese are so fond. The cicada is always present during a certain period of time and always behave the same during that period of time. When that time has ended, they vanish. Like the unfolding of the chrysanthemum, this cycle is deeply respected by the Japanese and like any subject of nature, it gains more from Shintoism. But the Japanese's reverence for this insect do not end there. As previously mentioned, the Japanese also see the cicada as a symbol of evanescence. This is for the same reason that they see it as a symbol of form: the period of time that they are present for. Out of three hundred sixty-five days, the cicada is only present for the summer; a quarter of the year. In this haiku, Basho has used the cicada to express the brevity and impermanence of summertime. As Basho was a lover of nature, we can even say that he was lamenting the end of summer. Indeed, the last two lines seem to indicate some sadness on Basho's part on how short the summer is. But it is not a deep sadness, as not only does this conflict with the principle of karumi, it also goes against the teachings of Tchouang-tseu. It is instead a more reflective sadness. In this poem, the last two lines also seem to say that the cicada shell that Basho found (most likely on a journey) was that of a dead cicada. Just as the summer has gone, so has the life from the cicada he found. This again brings up the overlying theme in this poem: the impermanence of all things. In this poem, Basho acknowledges that all things come to an end. The cicada's presence is as impermanent as that of summer, and both are in turn as impermanent as life are. This is a serious topic, depressing to most people, and yet Basho is able to express it in a non-depressing manner. It is, as I've said before, reflective and thoughtful.

This poem may not be as packed with references and social ideas as A monk sips morning tea, but on a metaphysical level, it is extremely stimulating.

A cuckoo cries/ and through a thicket of bamboo/the late moon shines. Again we find Basho catching a beautiful scene within his haiku. Moonlight often gives the sense of peace and security at night. It can also, however, be an instrument of foreboding. In this poem, however, it is neither. The cuckoo crying is also much deeper than one thinks after reading this poem for the first time. After examining this poem, we will see that this is actually one of Basho's most connected haikus. That is to say, each line in the poem is connected to the others. The cuckoo has great relevance in Japanese culture. Wood-printers and other artists tend to use the cuckoo as a space-filler in their artwork. Haiku-kas are fond of the bird because of its name in Japanese, "hototogisu", which has five syllables. But both artists and poets appreciate the cuckoo more for its symbolic value. Like the cicada, the cuckoo is a herald of the summer. But very unrelatedly, it has also been used to symbolize tragedy and is representative of the desire of the dead to meet with their loved ones again. This second value of the cuckoo makes more sense given the diction that Basho uses in the haiku. "A cuckoo cries;" rather than saying "a cuckoo sings" or "a cuckoo calls," Basho specifically uses cries (rather, its equivalent in Japanese). This automatically changes the feel of a poem from a relaxed and light hearted poem to that of a eerie and sad poem. The last line of the poem, "the late moon shines" actually does more to make this a sad poem because of the moon's significance to the Japanese. If one looks at the Japanese character for "month," one will notice it is actually the character for "moon": tsuki. This is a remnant of Japan's Chinese lineage, but the Japanese adoration of the moon goes further than that. In Japan there is an event called Tsukimi which is literally translated as "moon viewing." During Tsukimi, families will gather to stare at the moon's reflection in the water or simply to stare at the moon in the sky and reflect on its beauty. The practice is so valued by the Japanese that twice in its history, the Japanese changed their calendar to revolve around Tsukimi. The first changed shifted the full moon (which is when tsukimi is observed) to the thirteenth of each month; the second shifted tsukimi to the fifteenth. This gave the event form, quality that many Western holidays lack. The very fact that a country would shift the way they measure time to revolve around this event shows how important it is to them. Keeping in mind that Tsukimi was a family event and also acknowledging the meaning of the cuckoo's cry, we understand that the spirits are calling out even more desperately to be with their loved ones because it is Tsukimi and their families are gathered together. My conclusion is further strengthened by the middle line, "and through a thicket of bamboo." Bamboo is a sign of endurance in Japanese culture due to its extreme flexibility. In this haiku, the symbol of bamboo represents the enduring love that the dead have for their living relatives, a love that may be reciprocated. The use of bamboo also shows us that this poem was reflective in nature given that

bamboo was used as an object of meditation. Furthermore, bamboo is traditionally planted in temple gardens or around shrines. Wealthy families often had family shrines and tsukimi was originally an aristocratic holiday, especially during Basho's time. That said, it is well known that the Japanese engaged in ancestor worship, so it is logical to assume that those with the shrines believed their ancestors to still be alive, albeit in a different form. This shows is a prime example of the connectedness of this poem. This poem is one of Basho's more interesting poems because the Shinto influence is so very clear given all the imagery that is used in the poem. The cuckoo, the bamboo, tsukimi; all of these practices are Shinto in nature and show that while Basho was extremely fond of Zen Buddhism, he was also very much in tune with the indigenous beliefs of his people.

A weathered skeleton/ in windy fields of memory,/piercing like a knife. Of all of Basho's poems that I've read, this is perhaps my favorite because not only is it the first I've understood, it's also the one that, so far, has the most blatant use of folklore. I would even go so far as to say that, given the nature of the poem, Basho originally wrote it for a dinner party or some other social gathering (Basho was popular at parties) for use in a tanka. This poem is very loaded, even when compared to the others simply because it has purpose outside of entertaining partygoers. The poem immediately jumps out at any reader because of its first line, "a weathered skeleton." The first idea that anyone would get from this image is obviously death. But unlike the other haiku, one's superficial understanding of this poem is largely correct. This is a haiku that deals with death. But is it not an odd circumstance to go along the road and stumble upon a skeleton that's obviously been on the side of the road for some time? In Edo Japan, not necessarily. Basho most likely came across this skeleton (if he did come across it) on his travels; Japanese roads were treacherous and filled with highwaymen and ronin (rogue samurai or samurai without a master). People often starved while journeying on these roads as well, often due to lack of adequate supplies or due to being robbed by the previously mentioned highwaymen. It was easy for anyone, even the weariest of travelers, to die on these roads. Basho himself only survived his travels due to the hospitality of other poets and Zen Buddhist monks he would meet along the way. Even looking at the poem from a social aspect, samurai were allowed to kill the lower class if they pleased in Edo Japan. Their reasons could range from simple disrespect to testing out their new katana. From this we get a glimpse of social Japan and that is one of the many reasons I love this poem. So now that we've covered the obvious topic of the poem and why it isn't a far-fetched topic, what do the other lines of the poem say? From "in windy fields of memory," one immediately gets the sense of turbulence. That is, one sees that there is some disturbance in the scene. I posture

that this disturbance is emotional stress. This skeleton was once a person with a family; and if not a family friends and acquaintances. The person was known by people, even loved by people, and here they lie on the side of the road, dead and their remains wearing away under the elements. Unless they were travelling together and they had to leave the person behind, their friends or family would not even know that they are dead. A body once full of life now devoid of it. This poem takes a somber tone because of that line, and Brings the subject of death to the forefront of Basho's mind. This can be seen by the next line "piercing like a knife." That line shows that, just as the two previous poems, this one is reflective in nature. It shows the staggering reality of death and while a person like Basho would have been aware of this inevitability, it is an entirely different experience to encounter it. Like the summer, the time of the cicada, all things must come to an end; life is no exception. In this regard, we see that this haiku is indeed a very intense one, but this is not the best part of the poem! Do you the line skeleton? Gashadokuro is a yokai, a Japanese spirit, that is fifteen times larger than a human and takes the form of a gargantuan skeleton. It is created by gathering the bones of people who have starved to death, as is possible with the skeleton we've grown fond of, and preforming a ritual. Now it is understandable that I may seem hasty in drawing that connection. That is, however, until we again look at the line "piercing like a knife." Gashadokuro is fifteen times larger than a human and attacks people when they are alone, biting the heads off of humans if it sees one. Surely something of that size would be detectable? The only way to detect an approaching Gashadokuro before it strikes is by hearing a loud and sharp ringing in one's ear, a fact that directly relates to the last line of the haiku. This is my favorite of Basho's poems because of how loaded it is. It is full of allusions and possibilities and makes for the basis of a good ghost story. It also gives a bit of an insight to the common life in Japan, the life of the plebeians. In this poem, we see allusions to Shinto mythos, the topic of death, and somberness, all in a poem that could have easily been used to entertain guests at a party. It is one of Basho's most amazing poems, but it is not the last we will look at.