Pathway to Japanese Literature

Preface

In publishing this collection, I cannot help but recall my relationship with Shiki Koji.
Shiki Koji was the mentor who guided me in haiku.
And since this is something known to all, with no need to reiterate it now, I instead chose to excerpt a few passages I wrote during Shiki Koji’s lifetime, thereby recounting a sense of past and present.

It wasn’t so long ago—not quite what one would call “days of yore”—but in January of Meiji 25 (1892), when Shiki Koji and a few others staying at the boarding house began composing these things called haiku, I too felt an urge to try my hand at imitation.

Waking from a forty-five-year-old’s dream—the first sunrise.

New Year’s Day—even becoming a Buddha, this heart remains.

I wrote something like that, but I was too embarrassed to show it to anyone. Some time later, I casually showed it to Shiki Koji. Then, to my surprise, he praised it (though in truth it was encouragement), saying, “This has become a proper haiku—quite interesting!” And so I finally grew motivated. After that, I studied daily through assignments and poetry competitions, producing a great many haiku—one hundred on umbrellas and one hundred fifty on chili peppers. Yet not only did they receive poor reviews from the group, but the verses I thought successful this time turned out failures, while those I deemed flawed received marks. I had no idea what was happening at all. I began to feel somewhat angry—ultimately because there had been no standard to follow, and truth be told, I had yet to thoroughly study even a single collection of poems. So, wanting somehow to make a leap in progress that would take my peers by surprise, I thought studying anthologies of ancient poets might achieve this—and knowing our group held Saruminō in high regard at the time, I secretly began researching it. Alongside that, the haiku I composed—

At the mountain temple, dusk seeps from the pines—autumn drizzle.

Autumn drizzle—the main house’s small window in a hazy moonlit night.

First frost adorned, bringing along black wood to sell.

The day clatters into dusk—winter trees.

The wind scatters sleet over the wooden door—

Besides these, there must have been four or five more haiku.
One day I showed these to Shiki Koji and remarked half-jokingly, "This time I’ve composed them with full responsibility—if there’s criticism, I’ll defend them."
At this, Shiki Koji recited them with deliberate care, then his expression brightened considerably. "Indeed, these have changed quite a lot—all are interesting. How did you manage this?" he asked. When I confessed I’d secretly read *Saruminō*, he burst into hearty laughter.
This was around October of that same year, when I finally joined the group.
For the next two or three years—until stalwarts like Heikishi and Kyoshi emerged—I too carried myself with some pride.
(Excerpted from Hekishi’s haiku commentary in the July issue of *Hototogisu*, Year 32)

In terms of age and experience, I was Shiki Koji’s senior from our hometown. As for the boarding students, I also supervised them at times. I also occasionally corrected Chinese poetry. This is why I must now accept being called "old man" or "teacher" by Shiki Koji. However, as everyone knows, in haiku, I am Shiki Koji’s disciple. Shiki Koji is my teacher. He is my guide. In any case, that I have come to be spoken of today as a haiku poet—or at least as someone resembling one—is entirely due to Shiki Koji. Had there been no Shiki Koji, I would have ended up a stubbornly argumentative person who clung solely to logic. Therefore, it was my parents who gave birth to Naitō Sokō, and it was Shiki Koji who forged Naitō Meisetsu. That said, to speak of having received his teachings does not mean he expounded them with exhaustive diligence, nor that I listened with meek compliance. Though it goes without saying that we would often gather in camaraderie to compose haiku or receive critiques on our verses—moments that frequently enlightened us—beyond that, we more often clashed in our opinions and engaged in debates. At times, our disputes even verged on outright quarrels. And at that time, I had my own convictions to the very end and refused to yield. However, whether it took a month or a year, nine times out of ten, I would come to submit to Shiki Koji’s arguments. Over these ten full years, how many times have I received such guidance? I cannot say. And though I often confessed my surrender to Shiki Koji on those occasions, there also seem to be instances where I never gained the opportunity to state it explicitly. In short, it is clearer for me to have realized through such discussions than to be instilled with lectures and critiques. It is solid.
(Excerpted from the article on Dassai Shoya’s Haiku Journal in the June issue of *Hototogisu*, Year 35)

The painting and haiku by Shiki Koji below were acquired shortly before his condition turned critical and have been included here as an enduring memorial.
(Editor’s Note: Omitted in this collection.)

Regarding the compilation of this collection, I deeply appreciate the considerable efforts undertaken by Suihashi.

Meiji 41 (1908), December 6

Meisetsu’s Note

New Year Section

New Year’s Day—the Emperor’s unbroken line and Mount Fuji

New Year’s Day—a parent and child, seven in all, plum blossoms.

New Year’s—firecrackers and Nankinmachi celebrates New Year’s.

Imperial New Year Ritual—after its end, a wind passes through the trees.

Morning Worship—spring dawn and a solitary figure.

Rice-Gruel Stirring Stick—the crown tumbling off, what a blunder!

First Calligraphy of the Year—Kikaku, drunk in the pleasure quarters, tries his brush.

First Calligraphy of the Year—a beggar too writes in sand.

First Shipment of the Year—dawn’s lanterns dim in the pale light.

No provisions—drinking sake with ten mandarins.

Decorative rings—and I, the first tenant of this rented house.

A half-bow-shaped canopy with decorative rings hung—

New Year visits—the eighth head’s eyebrows have risen.

Tōroku brings Heiroku along—New Year’s cheer!

Accompanied by night’s New Year visits—the son-in-law and daughter

Yaruhago—a puppy tangles in the hem’s sway.

New Year’s lottery—so many hands drawing, but whose are they?

Banzei—the ancient gate pillars of Chiyoda

Banzei drums overflowing the hearth—

Monkey Performance—the female monkey’s flashy dance sulks through the day.

Spring Horse—even beauties receive their trinkets.

Bird-Chasing Festival—willow eaves and a plum-blossomed gate

Water Celebration—Jūrō’s retreating figure.

Even serving women share the same feeling—Water Celebration.

Poetry Karuta—playing cards and heading home on a rainy night under a shared umbrella.

Shepherd’s purse—the lingering scent on the cutting board.

Shepherd’s purse—awakened by its pattering taps.

Plucking shepherd’s purse—twice around Komachi’s grave.

Young Greens—plucking them in Kyoto as the day lingers on.

First crow—my hermitage is near Ueno, first crow.

Miscellaneous

Benten's Year of the Snake—the town in beautiful spring.

Permitted, colors take form—spring's dawning.

Celebrating the Publication of *Tanpyō*

The price of paper in Rakuyō—the first brush.

Drawing sake with a young man,

First Calligraphy of the Year—I will dye my salt-and-pepper beard.

Spring Section

Seasonal Themes

February—plum blossoms scatter; crane’s chick shivers—February’s chill!

Spring chill—younger sister peeling mandarin orange, fingertips cold.

A long day—Dontarō-dono’s handcart.

Manjusri expounds; Sariputra dozes—a long day indeed.

Cutting Kiso cypress—a long day indeed.

Warmth—ah! The gentleman’s virtue flows like wind.

Spring evening—auspicious fence where vixen births cubs.

Spring eve—long accustomed to leftward pillow; oh vernal night.

Spring night—woman mending quiver.

Spring night—entrusting swords; love too exists.

Spring night—pigeon groans beneath painted ceiling.

Haze—a league of mist hung over rapeseed flowers at Saga’s temple.

Departing spring—crows cawed at the Women’s Hall.

Departing spring—I had them don straw sandals, ah.

Summer drew near—by the riverside a warbler sang, summer drew near.

Human Affairs

Equinox—a beggar’s child and grandchild both exist, this equinox.

Elderly couple’s stirring forth—Equinox, ah.

Winding Stream Banquet—cups’ blossom-seals parted them as they flowed.

Hina Dolls—old dolls’ garments and the dim night market.

Among them, the Hōko Hina dolls appeared cold.

A year—brushing insect droppings from the Hina dolls’ garments.

An earthquake struck—the Hina dolls fell from the heavens.

Kite—unfallen amid the whirlwind’s spin.

Pachinko—the fading kite’s whereabouts.

The giant kite descended quietly in the rain.

Shift Change—even the maid was Gio and Buddha, ah.

After the shift change, here stood Koume’s tea shop—ah.

Treading fresh greens—stepping out the back door to Katsura River.

Tilling Fields—mountain fields they tilled even by moonlight in Mama Village.

Sunlit spot—with Edo behind them, they tilled the fields.

Tide gathering—a traveler watched the ebb from horseback, ah.

Tsuboyaki—the jar tilted; the fire crumbled.

Celestial Phenomena

Light spring snow—the moon too on the second day, how poignant.

Spring breeze—the imperially bestowed steed being led along, ah spring wind.

Heat haze—stones in Eight Formation Array as the tide ebbs.

Heat haze—a dream of old times, ah, the Heike crab.

Spring rain—having abstained from sake yesterday and today.

Spring rain—cedar saplings growing on a small hill, ah.

Kagekiyo's oil-paper umbrella held aloft—spring rain.

Spring rain—a mugwort inn's female dancer.

Spring rain—sending cattle out to tug and toil, ah.

Spring moon—one side of the roof piled with snow, oh spring moon.

At the small latticed shutter—signs of someone, oh spring moon.

Hazy moon—fisherwomen sing little songs as they angle, ah.

Hazy moon—rumors of the thousand-kill blade, ah.

A lodging in the field of miscanthus grass—answered beneath the hazy moon.

Geography

Mountains laugh—yet evening storm mountains ceased their mirth.

Spring river—rolled a letter and let it flow.

Water warms—round ice floating in the bucket’s thaw.

Burned Mountain—fern fronds crackling through the night.

Burned Field—scorched earth offers no shade to shelter with my wife.

Nursery Bed—young crows preen feathers in seedling water.

Nursery Bed—evening breeze sweeps through the green, oh.

Animals

**Cat’s Love**

With toy in paw—a kitten still unknowing of love.

Love-mad cat—abalone shell’s one-sided yearning.

At Cat Mound—love herbs sprouting through drizzling rain.

Bush warbler—breakfast grows cold at the boardinghouse.

For the bush warbler—a stipend granted at first song’s dawn.

Since hearing the warbler’s cry—the wife quickens with child.

Bush warbler’s first song in the daikon radish field—ah.

Pheasant—two shot down, now silent—ah.

Young larks—Hiei’s downslope winds begin to rise, ah.

Cypress fan—beckoning back the soaring skylark.

Returning geese—Kurikara’s snow on the verge of collapse.

Birdsong—all day long on south branches and north branches, ah.

Sparrows—accustomed to darting across the demon-faced roof tiles.

Young sweetfish—the water not so swift after all.

Young sweetfish—here and there among the small stones.

Fledglings—ripples of the ancient capital’s first brood.

Clam—a single large one in the soup bowl.

Butterflies drawn to a floral wreath—atop the coffin.

At the castle gate—butterflies fluttering about in fine weather.

Bees—the queen relocates her capital as flowers dusk.

Silkworms—guarding their shelves while lamplight dims over lore.

Under leaves—silkworms grown white and plump.

Village women—morning pilgrimage to the god of silkworm rearing, ah.

In the garden tree—wild silkworm cocoons bought, leaves spilling, ah.

Plants

Plum—evening moon; barns and stables too beneath plum shadows.

Lighting a lamp—night-walker amid plum blossoms.

Wild plum—as one reaches to break a branch, a cow lows.

In a pot blooms a plum—old tree standing one foot tall.

Over the fence—plum branch breaker at Akeyashiki.

Plum blossoms scatter—fox cries at Kyōōji Temple.

White plum as elder brother; red plum as elder sister indeed.

Desert sands blow—fortress guard where no plums grow.

Signboard—plum blossoms at the money-taking house.

Red plum blossoms—the Minister of the Left's oxcart.

Hamadera—red plums fade beneath thickening rain.

Red plum blossoms—the veteran master presides.

Camellia—great tree in bloom at mountain shrine.

Cherry blossoms—at Narazaka, an oil seller rests beneath them.

Mountain temple—a bowl of tea and cherry blossoms, ah.

Kouta songs—the Nijō crowd beneath cherry blossoms on a moonlit night.

Archery contest—women mingle too beneath mountain cherry blossoms.

Longing for others—evening mountain cherries, the Kuro Honzon.

Long excursion—not a soul without cherry blossoms adorning them.
In the pocket, two coins; cherry blossoms at dawn—ah.

A night storm—cherry blossoms scatter into Kane-ga-fuchi.

When I step out of the bathhouse door—a blizzard of cherry blossoms, ah.

The charcoal kiln crumbled by rain—late-blooming cherry blossoms.

Narrowing its horns—the cow passed through blossoms.

A mountain of blossoms—a monk in purple robes, young men too.

Temple gate—on both sides, blossoms of the Twelve Halls.
As blossoms fade—a dog’s bark echoes through Nijō.
Morning rain—single-petaled flowers, how poignant they are.
Protecting the sash—a woman’s heart amidst the rain of blossoms.
Fire-ironing a flower-viewing robe—last night’s rain.
Falling blossoms at Uchidōjō—the lamplight.
The acolyte grinds falling petals into miso.
Swept clean—roof and fence too in falling petals.
Peach—a village of ten households with light taxes; peach blossoms.
A village steeped in the day’s heat—peach blossoms.
Dozing off—when I wake, the peach-hued sun has set.
Peach-blossom path—a village woman with a hand towel around her neck.

Pear blossoms—on the northern side, a song was commissioned; pear blossoms.
Shimogyō—a house where demons emerge; pear blossoms.

Plum blossoms—the stingy neighbor’s plum tree blooms.

A fledgling crow calls its mother—plum blossoms under moonlit night.

Ginkgo flowers—ginkgo flowers and Kamakura’s Minister of the Right.

Magnolia flowers—the imperial plaque on this gate grows old; magnolia flowers.

Azaleas—when passed through, stones roll clattering.

Chasing a pheasant chick through azaleas—

Akedaru’s azaleas—lonely for two hundred mon.

Arranging azaleas—a woman reads sutras in mountains.

Quince flowers—quince flowers; sunset sinks into embankments.

Willow—parted by a towed boat’s prow.

Boatman rinses rice—willows on shore.

Cart’s willow drags—swirling dust.

Bridge willows—the day of mending snow geta does not end.

Catching hold—the willow at the garment shop, ah.

Kerria in the rain—the neighbor lights a lamp, ah.

Rapeseed blossoms—ah, packhorses bearing votive plaques trudge on.

Rapeseed blossoms—the medicine seller’s lively song, ah.

Flowering daikon—Kiyomasa’s Kiyari work song, ah.

Water plants grow—water ripples softly; pond weeds begin to sprout.

Autumn of bamboo—under its moon, let me sweep Kogo’s grave.

Spring Grasses—official duties prevailed; my field now overgrown with spring’s verdure.

Nori—new nori on brushwood; even the waves draw close, ah.

Miscellaneous

Coaxed into laughter’s remedy—spring inn, ah.

Evening moon—swaying back return the people of spring.

A person in a black lacquered hat poles the boat—spring pond.

Titled on *Haiku Taikan*

Great Cosmos—blazing brilliantly, the stars of spring.

Titled on *Tenmei Haiku Collection*

The spring of revival—every blade of grass, every tree.

Impermanence

This spring—no one has flown a kite.

波字春季結

The Tenchi Maru floats upon the waves of the long spring day.

Umejaku Memorial

A day of spring rain—a day for the child to cry, ah.

Recent Patriots Imitating Speech

Tasting charcoal, a world lies on firewood—second-day moxibustion.

Compiling the Posthumous Verses of a Certain Fallen Soldier

Fallen camellia—I picked up its red heart.

At Ueno

First flowers—
Saigō-don turns his backside.

Shinagawa

Who has claimed Tennōzan’s curtain of flowers?

Kairakuen

One spring, one stone—unchanged from the past—cherry blossoms scatter.

Crimson and verdant newlyweds—

Sleeping together—the warmth of Nichinan’s peaches.

Moved by Haiku Style's Changing Tides

Chrysanthemums wither—azaleas fashion dolls, ah.

Titled on *Haikai Getsureisen*

Moon and blossoms—thirty-six thousand days of human life.

Summer Section

Seasonal Themes

May—
Lake Ōnuma—reeds part under May clouds

A single straw hat—how safe the departure in May, ah.

Short night—
Lake Yogo gleams white at the mountain’s base

Short night—the twentieth-day moon above the mugwort

Hand lantern—the brightening night with roadwork underway

Short night—reinforcements rush along the mountain path, ah

Short night—the morning sun strikes Hyakumanben

Summer night—having overeaten, I lie restless

Heat—waking from a nap to evening sun blazing on buttocks.
Heat—I’ve become a cicada at bamboo roots.
Coolness—Ainu catching fish in hollowed boats.
Coolness—younger sister in water-dyed robe and standing court hat.
Even the will lies cool within an old one’s pillow.

Human Affairs

Banners—
the morning wind tugs at arrow-spinning streamers

The feudal lord passes by on horseback,
eyeing the banners—ah.

First banners—here too stands
a son of Japan

Iris Bath—
beneath the lit lamp, irises gather
to one side of the bath tub—ah.

Arrow Count—Ōyazū Tarō has yet to be crowned

Rice Planting—
by the inlet, rice-planting women
arrive by boat at shore fields

Bamboo Planting—
after finishing, ropes untied
from the young bamboo—ah.

Night festival— / the whole town: cheek-wrapped cloths / of those returning.

Insect droppings— / beating the bookcase during summer airing.

Cooling off at night— / Tadasu Riverbank’s pale figures.

To the river platform they carry a woman—cooling off, ah!

At the riverside pavilion—a cooling-off banquet, / ah, the numerous candles.

Cooling off— / leaping over rocks in the sea.

Waterfall Pavilion— / figures at the pavilion / a lone lamp.

Water Purification Ritual—the fawn grows accustomed to the shrine maiden’s rites.

Blue curtain—beneath it lies displayed the kitchen knife for carp.

Blue curtain—Arima crafts stand arranged.

Bamboo Wife—the monk’s nakedness repels; bamboo wife.
Changing Clothes—time and again my era fades into old garments, ah.
Katabira—washing and sun-bleaching the mitsuaoi crest.
Comparing hemp summer robes’ designs—the kamuro attendants.
Gauze—pulling sheer fabric in the heavenly maidens’ divine wind.

Summer hat—the storm clamps down on its cord—ah.

Parasol—taking along the young violet’s parasol—ah.

Mosquito net—the master drives nails to hang it, ah.

Sulking—my younger sister alone under the midday mosquito net, ah.

Dawn—a single leg thrust out from the mosquito net.

Mosquito net—the Ten Sages’ minds gathered beneath, ah.

Evening moon—waves of the mosquito net draw near my younger sister’s face.

Letting in wind—the paper mosquito net sways forth.

Fan—tucked into the collar of a noble one.

Fan—five or six ribs discarded by a writer, ah.

New Tea—
boiling new tea and sweeping
the stones in this green shade.

Sushi—
applied vinegar to rice then washed hands
in pure clear water.

Kudzu Water—
a hundred thunderclaps descended
to the navel.

Plum Vinegar—
kneading out Tang crimson
plum vinegar, ah.

Astronomy

May Rain—foxfire flickers at the small window, ah.

The vast sea lies smoothly spread out—May rain.

As waters rise—voices call out to guard the bridge—May rain.

May Rain—luggage piled up at the doorway, ah.

May Rain—raincoats and hats gather at Aoto Hall.

By candlelight unveiled in May rain—the hidden Buddha, ah!

May Clear—the white sails of a great ship dried; May Clear.

Evening Shower—the sun at the peak, sudden rain falls between cedar trees—ah!

Fresh Breeze—the teacher who speaks of green gales takes away the herbs.

Fragrant breeze—shrine-visiting Nasu Shichiki's sleeves flutter.

Cloud peaks—their backs brightened by the setting sun—ah!

Thunder—falling into the pond, the watermine's groan—ah!

Geography

Summer Mountain—
Summer mountain—castles here and there at daybreak—ah.

Summer mountain—a great tree topples, the echo resounds—ah.

Green Rice Fields—
Gates remain in the samurai district’s green rice fields—ah.

Into the dammed water of green rice fields—killifish—ah.

Clear Water—
The mountain monk washes his large sword in the spring—ah.

Wild fox dips its tail and departs—clear spring—ah.

Flapping noisily, crows are gathered at the clear spring—ah.

Animals

Cuckoo—the moon shines on the privy window—ah.

Cuckoo—the distant samurai’s snores—ah.

Bats—a tower where they fly by day and the Five Wisdom Buddhas—ah.

Goldfish—those received and brought in a bowl—ah.

Fireflies—illuminating the boatman’s evening meal—ah.

Fleas—Asaina’s fleas that cannot be removed from the armor—ah.

Water strider—one has climbed a spot—ah.

Water striders piled together and flowed away—ah.

Snail—emerged on an insect’s horn where evening sunlight glows—ah.

Plants

Crape myrtle—
never neglecting staff practice
crape myrtle—ah!

Young Leaves—
cut and set, paulownia joints
young leaves—ah!

Hedge treetops uneven—
young leaves—ah!

Leaf-clad cherries—
longing for countryside vistas
in Hatsuse retreat—ah!

Summer grove—
the train storms through
summer grove—ah!

Yosa Sea—
emerging from indigo
summer grove—ah!

Pine needles—
sweep together pine needles
and deer droppings—ah!

Unripe plums—
a woman comes over the fence
with plums—ah!

Apples—
their luster on offerings
and Buddha’s light—ah!

Young bamboo—
beneath the second-day moon
no shadow remains—ah!

Peonies—entreating an Imperial Visit—ah!
Senior and junior courtesans rise and emerge—peonies at midday, ah.
Peonies being painted—on the brush tip, a crimson droplet—ah!
Bramble flowers—the bramble hedge knows summer through one bloom, two blooms—ah!
After the rain clears—on brambles, the evening sun’s two or three feet—ah!

Hydrangea—
my thoughts shift
to hydrangea blossoms—ah!

Ezo chrysanthemum—
old Edo prints’
triple printing—ah!

Morning glory—
a single flower
among mugwort—ah!

Evening faces—
the samurai’s wife washing a horse—ah!

Kudzu flowers—
cut and dried without even being called jade vines—ah!

Irises—
a paddy boat parts them through the village rain—ah!

Japanese irises—
a woman adorned with their splendor—ah!

Water shield—
entangling on the magnolia oar—ah!

With hands, someone poles a boat
through the pond where water shield grows—ah!

Summer grass—
a vacant lot where a roof was cut and assembled—ah!

Barley—
dust settling on Buyō’s brocade—ah!

Smartweed—
a girl plucks it and dashes to the kitchen—ah!

Hemp—
in the field, a farmer chips away—ah!

Miscellaneous

Upon Welcoming a Son Amidst Paulownia Buds

This child—a May carp bursting forth, ah!

Mourning People

Soaked in the May rain, there may be spirits flying away.

Ushiban Farewell

Wandering clouds—
fifty-three teahouses scatter
in the May rain.

Sadayasu’s New Hall

At this window—what do you read, young maple?

Ueno Tokugawa Mausoleum

Summer grove—the august spirits of Five Generations have settled.

Autumn Part

Seasonal Themes

July—malaria subsides—Fumizuki’s night lamp—ah.

First Day of Autumn—through eye drops’ coolness—the day autumn is known—ah.

Early Autumn—word from Suma arrives at this very season—ah.

Morning cold—the sun strikes Mii Temple’s Nio statues—ah.

Night chill—
turning over, the sound
of the slatted floor—ah

By lantern light—
Kuhonbutsu in the night chill—ah

Mountain crossing—
even the horse shivers through its torso
in the night chill—ah!

On this path where stones are said to weep—ah, the night chill.
Outside the door—the child being scolded in the night chill—ah!
The horse driver speaks to his horse—ah, the night chill.

On the lake—a mountain fire reflects—ah, the night chill.

Long night—the old lamp clicks—ah.

The woman in the sliding-door painting stays silent—ah, the long night.

After settling disputes—the child leaves—ah, the long night.

Long night—contemplating monastic vows—ah.

Recording a day’s diary—ah, the long night.

A young carpenter eats his meal—ah, autumn’s drawn-out night.

Autumn weather—salvaged goods drying on a beach—ah.

Clear autumn skies—cleaning the five-storied pagoda—ah.

Dōjima’s 210th Day crossroads—people gathered—ah.

Departing autumn—a fox shadows the smith’s apprentice—ah.

Departing autumn—at Fuwa’s barrier station—the mortar pounds—ah.

Departing autumn’s sky tilts southwest—ah.

Human Affairs

Tanabata—
slept through it all—ah—
the little courtesan.

Pressing them up—
how swiftly scatter the bamboo’s
colored papers—ah.

Calling others along to welcome the stars—
the woman goes as far as Koisho—ah.

Spirit Festival—Spirit Festival—
I have aged beyond my parent—ah.

Before the spirit altar—a child eats a meal—ah.

Evening when dew settled on the rice at the spirit altar—ah.

Visiting graves—behind the bowed head at the tomb, tall silver grass—ah.

Lantern—carried along, became wet beneath the umbrella.

Lanterns too—two in a vow of joined wings—ah.

Lanterns—the old woman left behind by the absent monk.

Lantern Floating Ceremony—how charming, souls and lights all flowing!

Zoetrope—with drunken eyes, how much more dizzying the revolving lanterns—ah!

Settai—a monk who attended to women—ah.

Autumn mosquito net—finally tore after continuous use—autumn mosquito net.

New Rice—the daughter clung without selling.

New rice bales—still green the offering—ah.

Dance—entrusting two swords to another, he danced.

Mother, drunk, dances with old gestures—ah.

Oniwaka too descends the mountain and dances—ah.

People gathered to dance—evening embankment.

The moon deepened—entering love's section—ah, the dance.

Fulling block—even the small castle town wore autumn's knowing look—ah.

Fireworks—when the door opened, they did not ascend—ah.

Scattering blossoms of fireworks—ah—the castle's pines.

A sky resembling seaside palaces—ah—daytime fireworks.

Over roofs—barely visible fireworks—ah.

The actors' boarding ship—fireworks scattered—ah.

Sumo—young wrestlers sharing an umbrella on the bridge—ah.

Adjusting short hakama's crotch straps—ah, sumo.

Young sumo wrestlers splashing water at the gate's edge—ah.

Sumo wrestlers wrestled—the master scolded upstairs—ah.

Repelling glances—ah—finger sumo.

At the pine tree drums resound—village sumo—ah.

Scarecrow—even it holds a woman’s heart on the night path—ah.

Unrecorded in imperial verse—scarecrow decays—ah.

Scarecrow hung with boar’s tusk—ah.

Deer scarer clacks at every vigil window—ah.

Clattering scarecrow made the young lord pull—ah.

Traveler’s carriage startles from sleep—clapper rings—ah.

In trial even Kemi folk drag the rattling scarecrow—ah.

Kemi—I pissed on chrysanthemums of three paths and left—ah.

Yuzu miso—devoured pot and all—ah.

Emperor’s Birthday—yearly fair weather persists—ah.

Celestial Phenomena

First storm—the first storm strikes the estate’s small gatekeeper.
Dawn—as the bell is struck, the first storm arrives.
Autumn wind—harsh taxes sweep through tobacco fields.
Autumn wind—the small boxwood comb’s teeth grow rough.
If one draws both swords—bamboo; autumn wind.
Autumn rain—a hand-held candle swung to illuminate the forbidden room.
Autumn sky—autumn sky: birds depart toward me, birds return away.
Autumn sky—settled into hibiscus flowers.
Autumn clouds—tearing apart and vanishing.
Milky Way—morning departure, a horse’s head in the Milky Way.

The old castle towers in the north—the Milky Way.
The Milky Way has tilted in the hometown sky.

New moon—
this evening of replaced tatami mats—ah.

Crescent moon—
under its light, only women sitting on the edge—ah.

Moon—
a conch shell blown down from Ōmine’s peak—ah.

Horizontal clouds—
the wavering moon over a sea of grass—ah.

Harvest moon—
they stomp loudly on the bridge—ah.

The Later Moon—
to the right, Ariso Sea lies cold—ah.

Lightning—
the audience bathed in electric glare holds a crossroads lecture—ah.

Autumn storm—
blowing through reed candles and the Six Jizō—ah.

My voice blown back by the autumn storm—ah.

Autumn storm—
waves battering up in the small pond—ah.

A flag pulled down, buffeted by the autumn storm—ah.

At school, children still remain—autumn storm—ah.

The autumn storm rages—voices call out on the roof—ah.

The old castle surrounded by straw mats—autumn storm—ah.

A chicken flies into the window—autumn storm—ah.

Mist—the thin mist blows sideways through the procession—ah.

Dew—by the roadside, an abandoned cart in dew-deep grass—ah.

The discarded festival float’s doll—morning dew—ah.

Morning dew—picking up an arrow-tied message in the grass—ah.

Geography

Autumn mountain—while sutras are read, the sun lingers—ah.

Autumn water—the aged cemetery path where heads are washed—ah.

Dawn—autumn water on the cactus—ah.

Autumn water—a certain monk declared it poison.

Mountain Well—my face reflects in autumn water—ah.

Autumn water—serenely—it is noon.

First tide—the pleasure quarter’s well bucket draws it up—ah.

Flower field—lumber for a villa piled in the flower field—ah.

Animals

Deer—
twilight; encountering a deer in Nara’s streets.

Wild geese—
heard at foot; rain-drenched mountain pass.

Wild geese cry—
reed stems to be made into arrows.

Shrike—
at the village festival, someone catches shrikes, their mind elsewhere.

Mejiro—someone holds a cage; the back mountain was there.

Snipe— / along the country path, ten steps away, it takes flight toward me in the evening—ah.

Autumn mosquitoes— / dubbed “leopard,” the great one remains—ah.

Sea bass—

Boatman beetle—on the pier they scatter like small paper lanterns.

Praying mantis—vivid blue as rain clears from the fence—ah.

The bombardier beetle embodies wisdom; the praying mantis embodies courage.

Plants

Crimson leaves—on the great tree, four or five remain—ah.

Carrying a palanquin sideways along the rocky path—crimson leaves—ah.

Willows scatter—the village woman dries laundry—willows begin to shed—ah.

My clumsy bow—the willows begin to scatter—ah.

Ginkgo leaves scatter—beyond the dismounting sign lie the ginkgo’s fallen leaves—ah.

Osmanthus—in the osmanthus rain, the bamboo blind was lowered—ah.

Hibiscus—Yōmei no Suke’s inn has aged, its flowers—ah.

Persimmons—phantom prices sealing the night at Honmon Temple—ah.

Banana plant torn into a world of rain and wind—ah.

Heavily the raindrops fall on the banana plant—ah.

Middle gate’s plaque—how splendid stands the banana plant—ah.

Bush clover blown down yet clinging still—
and a crow alights—ah.

Bush clover and silver grass—
a water pipe one ri to Kyoto—ah.

To the daimyo—
offer an umbrella with bush clover flowers—
ah.

Chrysanthemums—
a young girl addresses creaking doors—
ah.

My hermitage—
chrysanthemums bask two feet under southern sun—
ah.

When lamps are lit—
only white chrysanthemums retain their whiteness—
ah.

Reeds—
night boat brushes their leaves again—
and again—
ah.

Withered late autumn—
within it I find Fuji blazing crimson—
ah.

Seed pods of grass—untangling morning glory seeds clatter—ah.

Second-crop field—chickens frolic under the setting sun—ah.

Matsutake mushrooms—matsutake rice served from the pot among the guests—ah.

Miscellaneous

Sold the house—journeying with wife through autumn—ah.

Autumn’s lamplighter marks vermilion on the Zhou Yi—ah.

Sickness from sake endured—autumn in Suma—ah.

Rejoicing at the Publication of *Sugagomo*

Mutsu—abounds with local specialties beneath autumn dew.

Yanonei

Autumn at the well—village children throw pebbles in.

*Dassai Shooku*

Dawn— / the chamber pot’s contents gurgle within.

Shiki’s First Death Anniversary

Were I to compose a clumsy verse, his scolding voice too would be autumn.

Sending Off Those Departing for War

This farewell—a horse neighs as autumn looms high.

Moon’s Reply to Me

In morning chill and evening frost, sake knows no measure.

On a Certain Person Having Received a Gun Hunting License

Chase the birds and enter the assembly of scarecrows, I pray.

Maiden’s Death Anniversary

A memory’s shadow—seventeen years of circling lanterns.

To the Tenchōsetsu Issue of the Hakodate Newspaper

Ainu conducting bear rites—dance! Chrysanthemum wine.

Gu’an—Two Haiku

Fumonbon—26th Night’s Moon Monk

One should not attain such folly—taro root.

Originally, nothing exists.

After the lightning—fields and mountains cease to be.

The theater world’s final fruit falls.

Aragoto’s persimmon-dyed unlined robe—even that in the autumn wind.

The Demise of a Great Actor

Autumn—the great cup of Bamba too becomes an offering—ah.

Visiting the traces of Toriyoi Hakuju before the gate of Kaianji Temple

Autumn wind—neighboring them, two graves.

When Suihashi requested a poem for her grandmother’s death anniversary

Though I never knew your face—the dew trickles down.

When someone sent me sweet dried persimmons—
The heart of sweet dried persimmons—accepting old age as old age.

Looking at the Construction Site of the Old Residence

Scaffolding erected below—the pines and chrysanthemums still remain.

Winter Section

Seasonal Themes

Early Winter—the bamboo is green at Shisendō.

A torii gate facing the early winter sea.

Late autumn warmth—on a withered branch, a blue bird sings.

Ōmi embracing the lake in late autumn warmth.

Cold—the moon chills; a mountain monk drapes his kesa.
The rafters spoke of Tamba’s chill.
Winter night—a puppy whines through the window’s light.
Year’s End—Buddha, unaware it’s pawned... Year’s End
Year’s Night—a man crosses Kawachi, earnest.

Human Affairs

Journey of the Gods—Even Westerners send off a single deity.

Ezuko Gathering—some hold rank even there.

Hakamagi Ceremony—ginkgo leaves scatter on Otoko-zaka.

Winter seclusion—the hard-of-hearing old woman’s menial tasks and winter seclusion.

Two desks piled with books—winter seclusion.

Winter seclusion—the manuscript for the first *kyōgen* was completed.

Cold Voices—They are women at Modoribashi Bridge.

Futon—two nights in a row dreaming the same dream.

A beautiful futon drying on the twelve-pillared veranda.

Quilt—mended through how many winter nights—a paper quilt.

Kotatsu Beneath the floor, wind passes through—the old kotatsu.

During cleaning—the kotatsu’s desolate appearance.

A child leaping down gets scolded—ah, the kotatsu.

A kotatsu with a moment’s pause before commuting—ah.

Lighting the fire—the kotatsu’s frame stays cold—ah.

Buried Embers In buried embers, heaven and earth grow still—this hermitage—ah.

Pocket Warmer—placed on the shelf, adjusting the obi sash—ah.

Charcoal The charcoal maker washing his face in the flowing stream—ah.

Charcoal Briquette—shattered, red scatters—ah, the briquette.

Hearth Fire—teaching university lessons to a grandchild by the embers—ah.

A hearth fire spans five feet sideways—flickering flames.

Head Covering—A lower-ranking monk wore a brocade head covering.

Putting it on a monkey—does it resemble me? This old headscarf.

On the bridge, a headscarf feigning to wait for someone—

Borrowing a headscarf, yet it could never resemble your form—

Paper Garment—I cannot serve two masters—

Pickled Stems—their stubborn resistance met by stones lightened.

Simmered Daikon—each slice too becomes a verse—

Nattō—the ache of thirty strokes in the soup—

Egg Wine—In Saga’s snow, making egg wine; red wings rise—

Year-End Rites—lighting lamps, people descending from the castle—

Old Calendar—people cherished, people resented—

Soot Cleaning—the celestial maiden’s soot on the ceiling has been swept away.
Soot Cleaning—arhats sitting ranked in the garden.
Soot-sweeping—my plum tree by the window beneath the moonlit eaves.
In the formal hall—fallen leaves from bamboo used for soot-sweeping—ah.
Year-End Forgetting—I’ve forgotten forty-nine years of who-knows-what.
Year-End Crossing—O jeweled thread, may the year-crossing noodles stretch long.

Astronomy

Autumn drizzle—
through its showering veil
a woman’s red raincoat.

Wintry wind—
amidst its raging blows
the noon cannon’s report.

Wintry wind scatters
Toba-e crows mid-flight—
ah!

Cold Moon—
black ships’ distant launches
under its gaze—ah.

Snow—
heavy valleys cradle
a low small village—ah.

One woman, one monk—
their crossing through snow
etched in white—ah.

Snowballs—
a woman’s strength taxed—
ah, the snowballs.

Frost—
bending it, frost oozes out—
ah, the living tree.

First Frost—
bearing it along as they sell black wood—
ah.

Geography

Winter Field The flood leaves sand piles—ah, the winter field.

Under the battery, the winter field’s path narrows—ah.

Animals

Whale—on the hauled-up whale, five or six people.

Hawk—the sound of a peregrine falcon eating in the night storm.

Wren—thirty-three years old; beneath drying nets walked a friend.

Plovers—in dream they cry, those plovers of Yashima’s painted screen.

Waterfowl—at scorched earth’s edge, playing in pond’s midst.

Ducks—startled by nightwatch clappers, taking wing at castle’s great gate.

Blowfish stew—by gatepost lingers Saimeiji.

Anglerfish—entrails dangling slack from gaping maw.

Oysters—pot of rice bears lantern’s painted scene.

Plants

Tea flowers, tea flowers—at the country temple with its back gate so far away—ah.

Tea flowers—stepping over them onto the path to the graves—ah.

Winter Cherry Blossoms—winter cherry blossoms offered at the imperial temporary palace—ah.

Withered Willow—the withered willow merely sways in disarray—ah.

Winter Trees—swaying gently, the Japanese magnolia’s old leaves among winter trees—ah.

Vermilion drips from the painted tower—winter trees—ah.

Winter trees—three or four crows fly away—ah.

Fallen Leaves—in the inner sanctuary sways the sacred flame—ah.

Withered Chrysanthemum—the flowerbed where large chrysanthemums withered magnificently—ah.

Withered Lotus—the lotus withered into gnarled age becomes a bodhisattva—ah.

Narcissus—Duanxi inkstone and rosewood desk—ah.

Narcissus—antique books and paintings traded in a humble abode—ah.

Writing desk—narcissus buds of an inch or two—ah.

Withered Grass—the grass withered; a boar bore arrows and stood upright—ah.

Withered Grass—human traffickers lodged at a three-household dwelling—ah.

Withered Pampas Grass—a hat marked where someone was buried—ah.

Miscellaneous

Mount Hiei

Three thousand masses, silent—the winter peak.

Inscription on the Painting of Bashō’s Ten Disciples

This gathering—Bontyō absent—ah, the cold!

The Hustle of Human Affairs

Departing year—I have not yet finished eating my buckwheat!

In Praise of Bashō Ō

Year after year, he grows more venerable—ah, the autumn drizzle.

En Route to Sanyō

Amida in a sedge hat at the station—autumn drizzled.

Matsuyama Castle

First snow—on the pine treetops, the castle keep.

In the mountains of Sakura, I cremated my granddaughter Tetsume,

Frost-covered firewood—smoke that pains my eyes—ah.

*Nakamura Kushū* – The End

(Published in January 1909)