Pathway to Japanese Literature

Aozora Bunko Edition Preface

This text file chronologically arranges the works of Oozaki Housai (1885-1926), a haiku poet who represents what became known as free-verse haiku alongside Taneda Santouka.
Housai’s haiku composition began early during his middle school years, and his creative journey until his death at forty-one was divided into ten distinct periods.

What appears here naturally does not encompass all of Housai’s haiku but rather an extremely limited selection.
In curating these works, we prioritized accessibility for younger readers while concentrating on pieces of crystalline clarity.
We also appended concise commentary about Housai’s circumstances at the start of each chapter.

Housai’s haiku are frequently published with differing notations.
In digitalizing these works, we used *Oozaki Housai’s Haiku Collection* (Yayoi Shobo) and *The Complete Haiku Collection of Oozaki Housai* (Shunjusha) as base texts, including both versions when notations differed.
The notation for haiku marked with ( ) follows *The Complete Haiku Collection of Oozaki Housai*.

[Middle School Era]

Oozaki Housai was born on January 20, Meiji 18 (1885), in Yoshikata-cho, Yumi District, Tottori Prefecture (present-day Tottori City), as the second son of father Oozaki Shinzō and mother Naka.
His given name was Hideto.
In Meiji 30 (1897), he entered the prefectural first middle school.
Haiku composition began around this time.

A torn kite string catches on plum branches.

Water splashed quiet house summer willow.

Through tree gaps a hammock seen green leaves ah.

Leaning on a good person's desk midday nap—

Dew-laden bush clover, a small house at the edge of town.

Winter chrysanthemums—calling chickens at the field’s edge

Young leaves pressing on the railing—the second floor.

Not falling ill—in listless daze, spring arrives

Departing spring—mother’s cherished Tsukushi zither

[First Higher School Era]

In Meiji 35 (1902), Housai moved to the capital and enrolled in First Higher School (Ichikō).
There was Ogiwara Seisensui, a senior by one year who would later become his master in haiku.
Housai joined the haiku circle led by Seisensui, but it is said he was not enthusiastic.

Drizzling showers—under the umbrella, white remnant chrysanthemums.

Mountain pass—the shower clears, a horse’s neigh.

The body that drinks no sake—the coldness of kuzu water.

[University Era]

In June of Meiji 38 (1905), Housai graduated from First Higher School and entered Tokyo Imperial University’s Faculty of Law in September of the same year. He lived a self-catering life in Sendagi. Around this time, it is said he frequently submitted works to the haiku columns of *Hototogisu* and *Kokumin Shimbun*.

Silver grasses all at once blown seaward—

A lantern approaches through the night mist—

A lantern flies toward the fire—riverbank mist.

One ri from leaving home—the morning fog has cleared.

Autumn dawns in the mirror shop’s mirror this morning.

Wandering beneath osmanthus, thinking of someone—

The white powder dissolves into clarity—autumn’s water

Evening dusk—wind blows paper strips through bush clover

Evening dusk—the autumn gale tears through cotton floss

Departing autumn—people yearn for the lamp—

Lying down to listen—a mosquito buzzes of distant times—

Shod feet ascending to the main hall—autumn wind

Viewing seven ponds left and right through the flower field—

Staying in with a cold—Indian summer warmth within paper doors—

Late autumn's path forgotten—winter field.

Cockscomb flowers—in the dyer's garden crimson lingers.

Having parted and arrived—breaking wild chrysanthemums in loneliness—

Sasanquas—late autumn dies leaving the garden bare.

The simmered pot clatters into desolation.

Hydrangea flowers leaning toward blue—crape myrtle.

Hidden by a large tree—a snow-draped Jizo statue.

That monk departs to that hermitage—winter field.

A single house's window open—winter field—

An empty stomach growls—a mosquito emerges mid-yawn.

[Tokyo Era]

In Meiji 42 (1909), Housai joined Nippon Tsushinsha upon graduating from Imperial University but resigned after just one month.
Subsequently, in Meiji 44 (1911), he joined Toyo Life Insurance Company.
Around the same time, he married Kaoru, the second daughter of Sakane Hisashi of Tottori City.

All day overcast—the might of the waves’ roar.

(All day long the cloudiness lingers—the waves’ roar holds such power.)

Flowers growing scarce where waves erode the embankment

(Flowers growing scarce where waves are at the embankment)

The sea has dawned and a single window has been opened.

Dawn’s rain soaking the trees has passed

(Dawn’s rain soaking the trees had passed)

The eyes of the woman coming to light the lamp

The sea slept black—someone arrived at the inn.

Window left open—morning woman sells shijimi clams.

The flower that bloomed coldly—its shadow.

In the fallow field, stars mirrored—the warmth of the night.

Amidst the scent of young leaves, someone arrived at the burning ground.

(Amidst the fragrance of young leaves, someone arrived at the burning ground.)

Walking while listening to the bell marking day’s end

Blue-clad people—the town where their returning day had set.

While the wife was away, the paper door dimly darkened.

The snow had cleared; sunlight fell on the children’s voices.

Children are shouting; houses pressed by the evening sun.

Viewing budding things while walking—the soil’s scent.

(Viewing budding things while walking—the soil’s fragrance)

The sun circled round; turned this way, the desk became evening’s.

A whistle blown—the blueness of the morning forest.

[Keijō/Changchun Era]

Housai, who had joined Toyo Life Insurance Company, could not adapt to salaried life and resigned in Taisho 10 (1921).
The following year, he obtained a position at Chosen Fire and Marine Insurance Company and was assigned to Keijō.
However, unable to maintain his vow of abstinence, he resigned after about a year and moved to former Manchuria.

Like a clod of earth—a sparrow perches where no green grass grows.

(Like a clod of earth—a sparrow perches where no green grass grows.)

In the wind running comes—hot coins in hand.

In the field where rice plants hang drying—though I search for people—

On the field where all had perished—my footsteps

Roasting nori time and again—nothing but faces from distant Tokyo came.

The long rains persisted—at the small window, apricots merely fell.

(The long rains grew tiresome—at the small window, apricots merely fell.)

Daytime fire’s smoke drifted into the distance—winter trees stood in rows.

Endlessly belching smoke—the smokestack where winds never rested.

At the fence where a dog peered and passed—a noon with nothing happening.

O woman crossing the sea with a great many children in tow

[Ittōen Era]

During his life in Korea–former Manchuria, Housai contracted pleurisy and returned to Japan in the autumn of Taisho 12 (1923). After living in Nagasaki for a time, he divorced his wife Kaoru. He took refuge at Kyoto’s Ittōen, led by Nishida Tenkō, and entered days of sutra chanting, alms gathering, and labor service.

Someone sweeps fallen leaves, unaware of the comings and goings behind.

The cow’s eye, dear—an evening encounter on the embankment.

Pushed by the flowing wind, emerging at the sea.

Profoundly lonely, my shadow—I try moving it.

Lying down writing a letter—a chicken peers at it.

Everyone had gone out to work; the house remained with its paper door left open.He moved through quiet shadows while serving tea to a guest.Grinning foolishly at fallen leaves—face contorted.

[Suma Temple Era]

In Taisho 13 (1924), Housai became the custodian of Suma Temple Daishido in Nishi Suma, Hyogo Prefecture after receiving assistance from a senior at Ittōen.
It was during this era that the free-verse haiku Housai had been crafting since first submitting to *Sōun* reached their refined form.

Tomorrow’s rain approaches—closing the hall amidst green leaves.

All day without speaking—a butterfly’s shadow falls.

Sending off a friend—chased back by rain and wind.

On rainy days—lighting the sacred lamp alone.

Looking back at the shore—no trace of my footprints.

Light sleeves delight—the pond’s ripples.

(Light sleeves delight—the pond’s ripples)

In the quieted forest—this single leaf stands defiant

In the well’s darkness, I discover my face.

In the silent pond, a turtle surfaces.

Strikes the bell and departs; within its lingering resonance.

In blazing heaven’s depths—a world becomes all ants.

The mountain’s sunset tilts toward graveyard sea and sky.

A pomegranate gapes—love’s foolish jest.

Having become utterly alone—the evening sky

(Having become utterly alone—the evening sky)

Descending to evening’s fishing village—no graveyard path remains.

High waves crash—fling one figure onto sand.

Rain seals me in—no choice but dusk this temple hall.

Waking from noon sleep—only shadows of spent things.

With the feeling of having forgotten everything, he put on his summer hat.

Silk tree flowers—the afternoon temple bell hung heavy.

An ice shop popped up abruptly—white waves.

Father and child lived together with few words; morning glories bloomed.

A sand dune erected a red flag and showed it to the sea.

To one who called out passing by—the welcoming fire raised its face.

(To one who called out passing by—the welcoming fire raised its face.)

A snake lay killed; he stepped through the blazing sky.

Attempting to detect the faint scent of wildflowers.

(Attempting to detect the faint scent of wildflowers.)

The tide reached fullness; evening cicadas sang.

(The tide reached fullness; evening cicadas sang.)

A white sun placed in the sky; the crematorium’s thick chimney.

Silently hibiscus bloomed; evening found me returning to another’s house.

Left forgotten forever—a black bat umbrella.

The tadpoles had multiplied; wiping the earthen floor.

Somehow or other, the children return from the mountains with nuts they’ve found.
He comes to the mountain hot spring with a sailor and listens to the rain.

Staring into the storm’s darkness; my eyes kindled a light.

The sea’s dawn and dusk—a room with nothing.

Counting nothing but copper coins sufficed for the evening.

In the evening suddenly appeared—O one-legged sparrow!

The tobacco went out—he cast aside the loneliness.

Calmly flowing water—crossing the bridge at length.

(Calmly flowing water—crossing the bridge at length)

The sky hung dark; a large ant crawled across the tatami.

Killed ants, killed them—they kept coming out one after another.

Several days of rain continued—he watched the sparrows.

Wringing a rag—the pen callus had whitened the hand.

My friend’s summer hat was new—shall we go to the sea?

Having taken a photo, we parted in the evening breeze.

With a blood-seeping hand, he swam out into the grassland.

Swatting daytime mosquitoes and reading old newspapers.

Discarded the heart that slanders others—peeled bean pods.

The impermanence—the lamp oil simmered.

[He] saw the crow's face up close in the harvested field.

Shook off the leafless tree and exhaled the blue sky.

Dried a bamboo umbrella; fallen leaves scattered.

Held up an umbrella; hearts drew close.

A host of red dragonflies; a head mound lay.

Shut tight the paper door; loneliness filled.

One garden stone was placed; evening came.

The hibiscus bloomed, and there I was reading my elementary school text.

When thatch-roof grasses thrived, flowers bloomed.

(When thatch-roof grasses thrived, flowers bloomed.)

He forgot this morning’s dream and weeded.

As pigeons cooed, the noon roof lay heavy.

Scratching his ear with a matchstick as dusk fell.

Night when he listened to chestnuts fall with a child.

Evening—burning fallen leaves; a red tongue protruded.

Cursing himself endlessly while lying face-up.

A heart seeking something cast it toward the sea.

Under the vast sky’s dome—no hat worn.

A stone existed, carved into a Buddha figure.

(A stone existed, carved into a Buddha figure.)

A single footstep came—the child’s footsteps.

With a face that looked like he’d caught something, the child emerged from the bushes.

At the teahouse that existed only by day, guests were singing.

The nail that missed being hammered bent its neck.

A crow flew off in silence.

In the deep noon, striking the wooden fish—it wore away.

With my sister—autumn grasses taking on a married couple’s semblance.

Attempting to survive this winter with a small brazier.

He organizes his thoughts; sharpens a pencil.

Receiving time from Buddha, he does the laundry.

(Receiving time from Buddha, he does the laundry.)

The distracting thoughts of a day when only the wind blows.

Two people gather and talk about foxes tricking.

There exists a daytime moon as if it told a lie.

The star emerged as drunkenness began to fade.

He finished crossing the bridge while deep in thought.

A chicken crowed grandly; the sea sky cleared.

A house clung to the mountain; chrysanthemums bloomed.

Night soil on the bones of my shoulders I carry.

On the plank flooring, he aligns both knees for the evening meal.

My body by the bonfire roasts front and back.

Drying umbrellas; a day with umbrella shadows.

Such a fine moon to gaze upon alone before sleeping.

Toilet graffiti becomes autumn.

Bamboo leaves rustle rustle; longing for someone I remain.

My footsteps descending to the meal.
How lonely—alone, I spread my five fingers and look.
A whole winter passes with fire tongs left unaligned.
Morning whitecaps rise high; I remain in the fisherman’s house.
A straw sandal becomes a box made for its mate.
The island woman’s bare feet draw close to bare feet.
Today again I live—the insectless storehouse’s white walls seep.
A woman in dark glasses rests on a rock—that’s all.
On a nail hangs a wet hand towel—it is a freezing day.
The cold wind—two ears firmly clinging.
I close the hall and remain; the sparrow comes back with a tap-tap.

(I closed the hall and remained; the sparrow came back with a tap-tap.)

Falling rain created a stream in the garden; I dwelled in desolation.

Even the stray dog’s back fur stood in the autumn wind.

(Even the stray dog’s back fur stood in the autumn wind.)

The flow of water on the night when murder had occurred.

Puddles shone; the evening wind blew feebly.

I was being stared at by a one-eyed person.

Bright autumn leaves—good for reading a letter.

A winter park path went nowhere in particular.

The moss-covered human of the earth wore a hat.

On a tray, acorns served; hometown.

Sisters eat chinquapin acorns; reading a Tokyo magazine.
I return the umbrella and borrow another again; it’s the same evening path home.

A baby’s cry sounds; I am sweeping the small garden.

I grasped the sparrow’s warmth and let it go.

I grew acquainted with a shop that sold both sake and tobacco.

I picked out a single needle from the ashes, with no one to speak to.

On a cloudy day—unable to sweep all the fallen leaves—I remained alone.

With the loud clang of closing gates, the temple slept.

A boiled egg was peeled with a quick twist and given to a child.

(A boiled egg was peeled with a quick twist and given to a child.)

A mantis falls with a thud and I do not forget the axe.

I tightened my black belt firmly and remained through the cold night. Having become one who rings temple bells on December nights, there was only a single cold bed left in existence. In the posture of one who had plowed through snow, I entered the morning town. A woman wore a lonely face at the hot spring village’s New Year celebration. Torn shoes flapped open their gaping mouths; today too cleared. (Torn shoes flapped open their gaping mouths; today too cleared.) Winter crucian carp were counted out for me with frozen hands. When I swept the fallen leaves, nuts rolled about. Holding a dog against me, my skin showed no hair.

They gnaw on hard pears and argue.

(Gnawing on hard pears and arguing.)

Sprinkle salt into the pickling tub—did my mother bear me for this?

I came deep into the valley—it was bright.

The pond drained into a puddle beneath the cold moon.

I was here with a child, roasting and eating mandarins.

Someone missing an ear on one side came to talk.

Using both hands as a container, I was given nuts.

A street lamp abandoned by a woman stood on a night of thin snow.

Taking a dog along the moat side—the sky turned to snow.

I gather fallen leaves, discard them, part ways—nothing more.

I am dying under such a large stone monument.

Wearing clothes steeped in indigo’s scent, I work under the winter sky.

In front of a door that had never been opened, I basked in the winter sun.

Taking off dirty geta, I sat far from the lamplight of the Dharma talk.

I washed trash into the winter river and returned.

A woman grinding mortar let me hear her song.

The earth had hardened; no crawling insects remained.
In loose-thonged geta，I kept walking along the snow-covered path.
The warmth of a roasted sweet potato lingered in my pocket.
He rested his bearded face over the hibachi.

Recalled a hateful face and kicked a stone.

Tried to drink water with a ladle whose bottom had fallen out.

(Tried to drink water with a ladle whose bottom had fallen out.)

The flames of a distant fire blurred into the snowy sky—how I yearned for them.

In the hall where sparrows were chirping noisily, I hollowed my stomach with morning gruel.

O dog, you wagged your tail as if it might tear off for me.

(O dog, you wagged your tail as if it might tear off for me.)

Silently eating Setsubun beans.

In the harvested field, two harmonious faces.

Flower-bloom faces rising from bathwater.

Selling sea bream with bared teeth, all puffed up.

(Selling sea bream with bared teeth, all puffed up.)

In the small waiting room, the sea visible.

The evening bell finished tolling—bagworm moth.

(The evening bell finished tolling—bagworm moth.)

Dinner eaten, still bathed in lingering sun.

(Dinner eaten, still bathed in lingering sun.)

[Kohama Period]

The lifestyle at Suma Temple—free from harsh labor—suited Housai’s temperament perfectly but lasted barely ten months due to internal temple conflicts.
After leaving Suma Temple in Taisho 14 (1925), Housai settled at Jōkō-ji Temple in Obama Town, Fukui Prefecture.

I shaved my head and returned—unripe plums fell everywhere.

The shaved head woke on a pillow deep into night.

(The shaved head woke on a pillow deep into night.)

I washed rice for one person until it shone pure white.

The clock ticked; the temple stood dilapidated.

I became one who spoke to beggars as grass smoldered.

Thinking thoughts, I watched a snail crawl.

(Thinking thoughts; a snail crawled.)

The face of the woman who opened and closed the snow-door.

Kept watch over the house and was shaken by an earthquake.

(Kept watch over the house and was shaken by an earthquake.)

I poured hot water on my navel—a midnight hot spring alone.

Endlessly ants emerged from the hole without sound.

(Endlessly ants emerged from the hole without sound)

I was dozing off at a hard desk.

I placed before my eyes the morning when a spider descended smoothly.

On the day after rain, I plucked the soft grass.

An abandoned garden where a lizard’s beautiful color existed.

(An abandoned garden where a lizard’s beautiful color existed)

A school with a pole propped against its earthen wall played the organ.

(A school with a pole propped against its earthen wall, playing the organ.)

In a hollow heart, two eyes stay open.

I was the father of a motherless child.

From this loneliness, nails stretch outward.

Topple sideways—the day has closed.

I lent out an umbrella.

Stray dogs on the dawn-lit road.

[Kyoto Period]

Life at Jōkō-ji Temple—a place of poverty—ended in the blink of an eye, and Housai made his way to Kyoto relying on Ogiwara Seisensui.
From July to August 1925 (Taisho 14), following the Great Kanto Earthquake that had claimed his mother and wife, he came to stay with Seisensui—who was living alone in Kyoto—seeking refuge.

The mountain temple was lit; I passed by, watching it.

The soles of napping feet were visible; someone came to visit.

I smelled the evening gardenia and showed it to you.

A spider caught a dragonfly and lived beneath the eaves.

The face that came visiting was heating the bath.

(The face that came visiting was heating the bath.)

Carp of the traditional seasonal festival were dancing.

[Shodoshima Era]

In August 1925 (Taisho 14), Housai crossed to Shodoshima with an introduction from Seisensui.
Having become abbot of Nangou-an, a sub-temple of Saikou-ji, he spent his days drinking and composing haiku.
On April 7 of Taisho 15 (1926), he succumbed to illness.
He was forty-one years old.

Before my eyes a fish leaps—I stand at the island’s sunset.

With a dog that followed unbidden—I remain on the shore.

Combing hair by the waves—a moonlit night.

Pretending to be a pickling stone—a grave fragment.

What splendid breasts—there was a mosquito.

Mother and child making dinner in the storm.

After the storm came a fool selling fish.

When washed, the soles of the feet turned white.

He had a small window through which the sea was slightly visible.

I bought a small mirror that once held my face and returned.

From here—the azure of the sea so deep that even wave sounds vanished—

Fiercely mosquitoes buzzed—a single emaciated body in the night.

A dragonfly came to land on the lonely desk.

Extinguished match after match—spoke to the sea wind.

When one climbed up to the mountain, all those lonesome villages came into view.

Came visiting, clogs slipping on rain-drenched camellias.

They said “This child cries as soon as you scold them,” and kept making them cry.

Flowers bloomed in various ways and all were sold.

(Flowers bloomed in various ways and all were sold.)

The Tale of the Autumn Wind’s Stone Bearing a Child

(The Tale of the Autumn Wind’s Stone Bearing a Child)

A watermelon, seemingly cast aside, swelled on.

The woman in the newspaper on the wall is always crying.

Having had his sweet potatoes eaten by rats, he was lying asleep.

Under the Bon lanterns, I spent a night and departed my hometown.

(Under the Bon lanterns, I spent a night and departed my hometown.)

I bought a goldfish for the slightly ill child.

A house where the wind blows; no flowers around.

The mountain, bathed in the sea’s sunset, had nowhere to conceal itself.

Weeds that drank water and went out to relieve themselves.

The sky where fireworks rose was where the town lay.

Midnight spent searching for a single flea.

It had been a dream from that hazy hour of dawn.

(It had been a dream from that hazy hour of dawn.)

The late moon was being shut out from the town.

(The belated moon is excluded from the town.)
The person clutching my shoulder has no eyes.

Lotus leaves pushed apart—out came a bloom; morning.
The sick person watched the flowers being cut.
At the festival, the baby was being put to sleep.
(At the festival, a baby sleeps.)
Before the sun rose, a wet crow flew.
The severed tail of a lizard twitched in the sun.
The pilgrim praised the hibiscus flowers and planted his staff.

The sick person had recovered enough to arrange flowers.

(The sick person had recovered enough to arrange flowers.)

Morning mist pigs came out; people came out.

(Morning mist pigs came out; people came out.)

Remained a dog that had wandered here lost.

Already become autumn mountains, they pressed in upon the desk.

(Already become autumn mountains, they pressed in upon the desk.)

The sound of dripping rain—the first in so long.

Singing the metropolis's popular song—the island's candy seller.

I opened the paper door and left it—the sea too darkened completely.
(I opened the paper door and left it—the sea too darkened completely.)
The storm turned the sky completely blue.
The heat cooled, lingering in loneliness.

Lonely sleep; no books.

Moonlit night with wind; alone, coughing.

The sound of rice porridge boiling—the pot lid.

(The sound of rice porridge boiling—the pot lid.)

One or two fireflies seen and sought—the house.

Ten fingers with clipped nails.

Making balsam seeds pop and watching them brings loneliness.

Peering through the paper door's hole finds emptiness.

No container—receiving with bare hands.

Morning moon transforms into storm.

Autumn mountain meets broad road.

A clam that wouldn’t open its mouth lay dead.
Even when I cough, I’m alone.

(Even coughing alone.)

Even returning from the cemetery, I'm alone.

Love at forty: a foxtail ear.

What a round moon appeared at the window!
Morning came with the ladle that had lost its bottom overnight.
Having sown all the barley, there remained nothing but days of blowing wind.
Thick morning frost—he went forth as a teacher.

Next door too, a rain-soaked leek field.

In one swift motion shaved bare—the cold sky.

Night work begins—the river’s sound.

A beggar came to this good place.

Rain falls on bush clover and flows.

December’s wooden fish is struck.

The pine cone turned exactly into fire.

The green grass worn out by the blowing wind.

Drinking plain hot water on the night the storm has subsided.

Cold sky—how I want a shirt.

Eating tangerines and warming myself by the good fire.

Deep dusk—washing my feet.

Daytime roosters crowed—nothing but fishermen’s houses.
The day the sea calmed took in the great river.
Wildfire—the northern land’s vast sky.
I circled behind the grave.
Tomorrow New Year’s Day comes—Buddha and I.

(Tomorrow New Year's Day comes—Buddha and I.)

After gazing at the evening sky, I took up chopsticks for the night meal.

I opened the window—a smiling face.

Late into the night, the hermitage became a moonlit scene.

(Late into the night, the hermitage became a moonlit scene.)

Living on a small island—the island's snow.

In the lingering sunset's loneliness—O mountain.

I returned to the winter sky of my hometown.

In the rain, I washed my muddy hands.

In the mountain field, wheat turned green—a single pine tree.
Having crawled to the window, I showed my face—green grass.
White feet exposed on the shore.
Being poor, I lined up plant pots.
Frost melted—a bird glittered.
A wayside teahouse where hot rice was cooked.

Approached the forest—a forest with snow.
The flesh was thinning; it was a thick bone.
(The flesh was thinning; it was a thick bone.)
Placed a single teacup; choked.
I placed my emaciated body at the window; the ship’s whistle.
Having become completely ill; the willow threads were blown.
Smoke began to rise from behind the spring mountain.