On a spring day, 200 or so years ago.
有明や鶯が鳴く綸が鳴る
ariake ya uguisu ga naku rin ga naru [1]
dawn!
a bush warbler sings
an altar bell rings
—Issa[2]
The altar bell he is talking about is a small Buddhist bell, called rin (磬 or 鈴) in Japanese, often found as part of a home altar or temple. In the West we wouldn’t call it a bell at all, but rather a singing bowl, the kind that is seating on a tiny cushion and is struck and allowed to sound until the vibration runs out. Bell is a more literal translation, but using the Western name might help you picture the scene better.
With that in mind, an alternative translation might read:
dawn!
a bush warbler cries out
a singing bowl rings
I would change “bush warbler sings” to “cries out” to avoid repeating that word twice; while it does kind of sound ok leaving it as “sings”, it’s a little too “Dr Seuss” to my ears.
Anyway, Issa is giving us a nice picturesque scene here. This is a scene you can easily picture at the beginning of a movie or TV show to set the scene. Beyond the nice image, there is a repeating theme of beginnings. The day begins, spring begins — signified by the bush warbler’s cry, a sound that everyone in Japan associates with the coming of spring — and a Buddhist ritual of some sort also begins.
And that’s where it starts to feel a little too neat. The tidy thematic stacking would have irked Bashō. His aesthetic leaned toward indirection — suggesting one thing, implying another, and leaving space for what’s unsaid. He might’ve kept one of these “beginnings” explicit, hinted at a second, and replaced the third with something surprising or unresolved.
Does that make it a bad haiku? Judging it by Bashō’s standard, yes, but Issa often was a bit more direct and he also maintained a childlike clarity that gave rise to more straightforward style.
I like both styles. Though I tend to lean toward Bashō’s more Zen-like restraint, I appreciate Issa’s playfulness and warmth. This piece may not be a “great” haiku, but it’s a vivid example of two master poets with very different philosophies.
If Bashō sought the beauty of what is left unsaid, Issa often found charm in the beauty of saying it anyway.