I Am Poor: Bashō’s Pursuit of Poetic Purity

It still seems like autumn outside, but by the traditional Japanese reckoning we are into winter now. This in mind, a verse Bashō wrote about 343 years ago comes to mind.

雪の朝独リ干鮭を噛み得タリ
yuki no ashita hitori karazake o kami e tari[1]

this snowy morn
by myself
chewing dried salmon
—Bashō
[2]

Snowy Farmyard in Yaizu by Tsuchiya Koitsu
Snowy Farmyard in Yaizu by Tsuchiya Koitsu

Dried salmon was an ordinary food, far from the luxury of the rich. Bashō is setting himself as a man of the common people, a place he was most comfortable. However, at the same time, he is also setting himself apart from the common people. Let’s look at how.

In a headnote to this haiku he tells us:

富家喰肌肉丈夫喫菜根. 予乏し
Fuka wa kiniku o kurai, jofu wa saikon o kissu. Yo wa toboshi.
Wealthy people eat fine meat, and ambitious young men eat roots. I am just poor. (or “I lack both”)

The reference to “roots” is a nod to a classic Chinese philosophical text called Saikontan (菜根譚, Caigentan in Chinese) which was very popular in Japan during the Edo era. Written by Kōjisei (Hong Yingming in Chinese), it is a book of aphorisms from Confucianism, Taoism, and Chan (Zen) Buddhism. It is still fairly popular to this day—I’ve seen it compared in popularity in Japan to Meditations by Marcus Aurelius in the West.

One line from the book tells us that “A man who can get by on roots can achieve anything” (人常咬得菜根, 則百事可做). One can easily guess how people who aspired to great things might take this line literally and adopt the practice of chewing vegetable roots as a way to get there.

Bashō is having a bit of fun poking at both sides. He is denying both riches and ambition. He has no desire for either and prefers to be a poor poet; just as a monk sets all ambition and desire aside in their pursuit of the Buddha, Bashō does the same in is pursuit of poetic purity.

Snow is a kigo (season word) for late winter, roughly 1/6 – 2/3 on our current calendar, but the main kigo here is dried salmon which is a kigo for all winter. Back in the day, salmon would have their guts removed and then be hung to dry under the eaves of buildings and would be eaten all winter.


Licensed under Creative Commons by Yosi Oka

Tatsuya Tanaka’s Miniature World: The Art of Mitate

From Tokyo Weekender. This is really a wonderful introduction to a person and art form that I previously had no awareness of.

Tanaka is a photographer of mitate, an art form that requires the admirer to look beyond the final composition to discover visual puns and other layers of meaning hidden in plain view. It’s a role he’s done better than anyone else for over a decade. The mitate he photographs are his tiny worlds, for which he references miniature — the small representation of something — and diorama, which refers to 3D depictions of scenes or environments.

Here is the Wikipedia entry on mitate.

He does these miniature scenes every day on his website, Miniature Calendar, taking around four hours to craft the images. He also has an Instagram account. Both are well worth following.

LINK: The Miniature Worlds of Artist Tatsuya Tanaka

Today in Japan for Dec 6 — A Legacy in Gaming

And here is your daily almanac for Tuesday, the sixth of December 2023. Today, in 1950, Joe Hisaishi was born. He would go on to be a renowned composer known for his scores in many of Studio Ghibli’s films. His music has undoubtedly touched the hearts of many, making him a favorite composer in Japan It is also the birthday of Satoru Iwata, born in 1959. In the gaming world Iwata’s impact on Nintendo and the gaming industry at large was huge. ![][Focus Photo] Iwata’s career in gaming started at HAL Laboratory, where he worked on titles like *Kirby* and helped bring *EarthBound* to life. He joined Nintendo in 2000 and quickly rose through the ranks, becoming the company’s fourth president in 2002. Under his leadership, Nintendo released the Nintendo DS and the Wii, two of the most successful gaming consoles in history. Iwata’s approach was revolutionary. He believed in creating games that were accessible to everyone, not just hardcore gamers. This philosophy led to the development of games like *Wii Sports* and *Brain Age*, which expanded the gaming audience to include people of all ages and backgrounds. Before the rise of smartphones, *Brain Age* was the casual game that many non-gamers bought the DS for and would be seen playing. His beloved status at Nintendo was not just due to his innovative vision but also because of his approachable and humble demeanor. He was known for his willingness to put himself on the front lines with his development teams, a rarity in corporate culture. His famous quote, “On my business card, I am a corporate president. In my mind, I am a game developer. But in my heart, I am a gamer,” perfectly encapsulates his dedication and love for gaming and is why he is so beloved in the industry today. His untimely passing in 2015 was a significant loss to the gaming community and industry. Yet, his legacy continues to inspire new generations of game developers and players. — Today is *senbu* (先負), traditionally considered a day where the morning is auspicious, but caution is advised in the afternoon. (Read more about the rokuyō [here][rokuyō])[^1] [^1]: Like many things on this site, I haven’t restored the version I made for this website yet and this is a lesser version I wrote for my Hive blog sometime ago. I will try to remember to update this whenever I repost the article on this site. On the old calendar, today would have been the twenty-fourth day of the tenth month. We are still within the mini-season *Shōsetsu* (小雪), marking the period of early snow, and the microseason *Tachibana hajime te kibamu* (橘始黄), when tachibana (Japanese bitter oranges) begin to turn yellow. This time of the year, when nature subtly shifts its colors, reminds us of the gentle, yet impactful, change nature has on our lives. ![Bird on Snow Covered Berry Branch by Hirose Biho][Sekki Photo] — Here’s a haiku from Kagami Shikou: うらやまし美しう成て散る紅葉
*urayamashi utsukushuu natte chiru momiji* envied by all
turning beautiful then falling
autumn leaves ![Autumn Maple Leaves and a Stream by Watanabe Seitei][Haiku Photo] This haiku touches on the concept of mono no aware (物の哀れ), the awareness of the impermanence of things, and the gentle sadness and wistfulness at their passing. It is a sentiment deeply ingrained in Japanese aesthetics and culture, much like the appreciation for each season’s unique beauty and the recognition of life’s ephemeral nature. Shikou’s haiku invites us to appreciate the beauty in transient moments and the impact they leave behind. It’s a reminder to cherish the present and the legacy we create through our own fleeting yet meaningful journeys. — As we observe the early signs of winter and the ripening tachibana, let us remember Satoru Iwata’s incredible journey. His work not only reshaped the gaming landscape but also brought joy and entertainment to millions around the world. Let’s cherish the creativity and passion that drive innovation and touch our lives in myriad ways. Be well, do good work, and stay in touch. [divider]: https://images.hive.blog/0x0/https://images.ecency.com/DQmR3iwCn9yvwXDXfuNjmMX6FrjAvFfYQWgA4QRckpens1j/external_content.duckduckgo.png [rokuyō]: https://peakd.com/japan/@dbooster/japans-good-and-bad-luck-calendar–the-rokuyo [Focus Photo]: http://laspina.org/images/photos-notmine/iwata.jpg [Sekki Photo]: http://laspina.org/images/woodblock/bird-snow_Hirose-Biho.jpg [Haiku Photo]: http://laspina.org/images/woodblock/momiji-Seitei.jpg [translation]: /a-note-on-translations [pronunciation]: /pronunciation

Reward of Persimmons

三千の俳句を閲し柿二つ
sanzen no haiku o kemishi kaki futatsu[1]

having reviewed
three thousand haiku—
two persimmons
—Shiki[2]

Persimmons by Kono Bairei
Persimmons by Kono Bairei

This is a haiku for autumn, which we are well past according to the traditional Japanese reckoning of the seasons that haiku follows, but I found myself thinking of this haiku the other day when giving myself a reward for work well done, so I decided to post about it.

Shiki edited haiku for a newspaper at one point. It was here that he would make a name for himself with his criticism of Bashō and pieces on the poem form itself. His articles on haiku became so influential that he was responsible for renaming the short verse from their previous name hokku to haiku and transforming them into a completely independent form instead of the first verse of a renga.

Here he is with a promised reward for a job well done. Shiki loved persimmons, making it a good reward indeed. I suppose for most of us today that reward might be chocolate instead.

The kigo (season word) here is kaki, “persimmon”. It is a kigo for late autumn, which is around Oct 8th to Nov 7th.

The verb is in the past tense, but many translators choose to use the present simple or the present continuous. There is a bit of added tension if we make that change, as we might wonder if he actually finished reviewing all the haiku before he ate his reward. Borrowing that idea, I might also render this as:

three thousand
haiku to look through—
two persimmons

I’m not sure I like that as much, but it is an option. As the great Robin Gill says, having multiple translations can help us see the haiku from all angles which can help us understand it better.

Today in Japan, Dec 3 – The Drunken Haiku Poet

And here is your daily almanac for Sunday, the third of December 2023.

Today, in 1882, Taneda Santōka was born, one of the most beloved Japanese haiku poets, famous for his free-verse haiku, his wanderings across the Japanese countryside, and his love of sake. His haiku are celebrated for their simplicity and profundity, capturing the essence of the moment in a few brief words, often even fewer words than traditional haiku.

Santōka’s life was marked by hardship and spiritual seeking. Tragedy entered his life early when his mother committed suicide by throwing herself into the family well when he was only eleven. He was present when they raised her lifeless body from the well. This incident would haunt him his entire life. He turned to alcohol early to help cope. He was very bright and was accepted into the illustrious Waseda University but was forced to drop out due to his drunkenness. His father, who had once been fairly well-off, was nearly broke by this time, furthering the stress on Santōka.

Despite the troubles with alcohol and depression, he discovered haiku while a student and soon became a disciple of Seisensui, the leading haiku reformist who sought to break from the traditional 5–7–5 syllable requirement and establish a free-form modern haiku format. Santōka embraced this modern idea and became one of Seisensui’s leading disciples.

Financial and mental troubles kept following him, however, and in 1924 at age 42, he attempted to kill himself by jumping in front of a train. He survived and was taken to a nearby Soto Zen temple to recover. At the temple he thrived and soon was ordained. Not long after, he started what he would do for the rest of his life: wandering all over Japan, drinking sake, and writing haiku.

He wandered across Japan, living a life of simplicity and humility. His poetry often reflects these experiences, eschewing traditional haiku structure to express his unencumbered, free-spirited approach to both life and art.

He is my favorite haiku poet and is slowly becoming Japan’s favorite haiku poet as well. There is something about his tragic life and his amazing haiku that makes this drunken wandering Zen haiku poet very likable.


Today’s rokuyō is shakkō (赤口), considered a less auspicious day, especially in the morning. According to belief, it’s a day when extra caution is advised in the early hours. (Read more about the rokuyō here)[1]

On the old calendar, today would have been the twenty-first day of the tenth month. We are in the midst of Shōsetsu (小雪), the time of early snow, and the microseason Tachibana hajime te kibamu (橘始黄), when tachibana (Japanese bitter oranges) begin to turn yellow. This is a time when nature slowly shifts its colors, reminding us of the cycle of life and the impermanence that Santōka so beautifully captured in his haiku.

via Wikipedia
via Wikipedia

Here’s a haiku from Santōka:

また見ることもない山が遠ざかる
mata miru koto mo nai yama ga tōzakaru[2]

mountains I’ll never see again
fading away behind me[3]
—Santōka

Bridge and Mountains by Kikuchi Keigetsu
Bridge and Mountains by Kikuchi Keigetsu

There is a lovely acceptance here. He knows or guesses that he’ll never make this same journey again and will never again see these particular mountains. I think this haiku sums up Santōka well, showing his ability to find meaning in every step and to see the profound in the ordinary. As the mountains fade, so too do moments in our lives, leaving behind a trail of memories and experiences that shape who we are.

Santōka’s life, filled with both hardship and beauty, resonates in these words. His recognition of the impermanence of life and the constant change inherent in existence is a theme that is deeply rooted in Buddhist philosophy and is vividly expressed in his poetry.

As we remember Santōka and his journey, this haiku invites us to embrace the fleeting nature of our experiences, to appreciate the beauty of the present, and to acknowledge the constant ebb and flow of life.


As we experience the early signs of winter and observe the changing hues of nature, let us reflect on Santōka’s journey and find our own paths through his words. Let’s appreciate the moment, the journey, and the simple beauty around us. Be well, do good work, and stay in touch.


  1. Like many things on this site, I haven’t restored the version I made for this website yet and this is a lesser version I wrote for my Hive blog sometime ago. I will try to remember to update this whenever I repost the article on this site.  ↩

  2. See: Pronunciation of Japanese  ↩

  3. See: a note on translations  ↩

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