Nameless Mountain ~ The Humor of Bashō

Spring is here and with spring comes spring mist. Bashō gave us a lovely image of this some time ago during one of his walking trips.

春なれや名もなき山の薄霞
Haru nare ya na mo naki yama no usugasumi[1]

spring is here—
the nameless mountains
covered with mist
—Bashō[2]

This is from his travel journal Nozarashi Kiko; Bashō was around Nara when he wrote it, in the year 1685. I know the woodblock up there shows Mount Fuji and not a mountain near Nara, but finding a woodblock print that features any mountain other than Mt Fuji is a challenge.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting. The mountains around Nara — including Mount Kaguyama (香具山), Mount Miminashi (耳成山), and Mount Unebi (畝傍山)[3] — are in fact some of the most famous mountains in all of Japanese myth and classical poetry. They are collectively known as the Yamato Sanzan (大和三山, “The Three Mountains of Yamato”), and they show up frequently in the Man’yōshū and other early collections.

Take this waka by Empress Jitō, poem #2 in the Hyakunin Isshu:

春過ぎて夏来にけらし白妙の
衣ほすてふ天の香具山
haru sugite natsu ki ni kerashi shirotae no
koromo hosu chō ama-no-kaguyama

spring seems gone
and summer is come again—
this is when, they say,
the pure white robes are dried
on heavenly mMunt Kagu
—Empress Jitō

And yet Bashō, walking through these very lands, calls them “nameless.”

• He may have been having a bit of fun. His sense of humor was subtle but ever-present, and calling these hyper-famous peaks “nameless” is a classic wink.

• Then again, he might have been pointing out that they are so famous that they don’t even need to be named.

• Or perhaps it was a deeper commentary on the transient nature of fame and the timeless beauty of nature itself.

You decide!

A final layer: Mount Kaguyama, in particular, holds sacred significance. According to the Kojiki, it’s from this mountain that Ame no Uzume took a bamboo branch when she danced to lure Amaterasu out of hiding and restore sunlight to the world.

For those unfamiliar with that myth: Amaterasu, the sun goddess, withdrew into a cave after being harassed by her brother. With her gone, the world plunged into darkness. The other gods devised a plan — Uzume’s dance was part of it — and successfully coaxed her back into the world.

So yes, nameless? Hardly. But that’s Bashō for you.

At any rate, mist is a common enough feature of spring and we can easily picture a scene in our heads similar to the one he is describing. Similar to the scene that first woodblock print shows.