Uguisu Poop and Karumi

鴬や餅に糞する縁の先
uguisu ya mochi ni fun suru en no saki[1]

the uguisu
pooping on the rice cakes
on the veranda
—Bashō[2]

Uguisu by Ashikaga Shizuo
Uguisu by Ashikaga Shizuo

The Uguisu is the herald of spring in Japan. It’s not often seen, but everyone knows its wonderful cry, which we all wait all winter to hear. The standard English translation is “Bush warbler” or sometimes “Japanese Nightingale”, so insert either of those if you want instead of the Japanese name.

Rice cakes (mochi) were usually left on the veranda to dry. In this case, seems like the uguisu mistook the drying mochi for a toilet.

Bashō considered this haiku to be one of his first successful uses of his new style, karumi (“lightness”), which would be his final philosophy of haiku writing. Karumi basically proposed to focus on the mundane aspects of everyday life while avoiding the more serious topics of classic Japanese and Chinese poetry. He was very much influenced in karumi by his Buddhist practice, which teaches that we should embrace the world rather than feel we are separate from it.

The contrast between the uguisu, which we are usually happy to see and hear, and pooping on the food, may seem strange and shocking and not at all a topic for a poem, but it shows Bashō trying to capture reality as it is without judgement and illustrates the power of haiku, which can give us these little scenes of real life in a way that few other poetry forms can. In addition to being an example of his latest haiku philosophy, we might imagine Bashō found some humor in the situation and that is what triggered the haiku.

Some trivia for you: Uguisu poop was actually used as a ingredient in skin whitening creams and to remove wrinkles. It is also used to remove stains from kimono. That in mind, maybe after writing this haiku Bashō scraped the poop off the mochi and kept it to later sell.

What Japanese Kids Want to Be When They Grow Up

School bag material manufacturer Kuraray surveys new elementary students every year when they buy their first school bag, asking them what they want to be when they grow up.

Among boys, the allure of being an “athlete” reigned supreme, capturing 16% of the responses, with “police officer” and “firefighter/rescue worker” following closely behind.

On the other hand, girls overwhelmingly favored careers in the confectionery world, with over 20% expressing their desire to be a “cake shop worker/baker,” marking the 26th consecutive year for this trend.

My oldest wanted to be an artist when he entered elementary school. He still wants that. My youngest wanted to catch yokai but also to be a baseball player.

Notably, the role of “researcher,” particularly in the realms of dinosaurs and insects, witnessed a surge in popularity among the mixed-gender group, entering the top 10.

Does catching yokai count as a researcher?

LINK: Cake shop worker remains dream job for many children starting school

Cheering Blossoms at Kisakata

The cherry blossoms are here. Not only do they make all people happy when we see them, but might they also cheer up nature itself? Issa had some thoughts.

象潟もけふは恨まず花の春
kisagata mo kyō wa uramazu hana no haru[1]

even kisakata
isn’t as sorrowful today
spring blossoms
—Issa[2]

Kisakata, or Kisa lagoon, was a famous place in Akita back in the day. It was considered one of the most beautiful places in the country, in fact, known for the 99 islands. It was a beautiful lagoon with many small islands within. Poets and other travels had been visiting this area for generations to see the majesty of it.

Unfortunately in 1804 there was a major earthquake that raised the seabed two meters, which gradually in the years after destroyed the lagoon. Today the islands all remain but they are surrounded by rice fields instead of water, which as you might imagine, somewhat ruins the old effect. It is still a popular place to visit, especially in spring when the flooded rice fields give a hint of what it used to look like.


This haiku was written in 1789, however, several years before that event. Issa isn’t calling Kisakata sorrowful because of the earthquake that hadn’t even happened yet, instead he is referring back to Bashō. Bashō visited the area exactly one hundred years before, in 1689, and later wrote about it in his famous Oku no Hosomichi. In the prose surrounding his haiku, he wrote that Kisakata is as beautiful as Matsushima, which is a place similar to Kisakata but on the Pacific side of Japan, but while Matsushima is happy, Kisakata is sad, with a feeling of melancholy.

松嶋は笑ふが如く、象潟はうらむがごとし。寂しさに悲しみをくはえて、地勢魂をなやますに似たり。

Matsushima appears joyous, as though it laughs, while Kisakata seems to bear a grudge, as if resentful. The solitude intensifies the sadness, as if the very spirit of the land itself is troubled.[3]

“The solitude intensifies the sadness”. This is playing into the stereotype of the Sea of Japan side of Japan. Historically, the Japan Sea side of Japan is consider to have more of a somber, isolated, sad feeling. There are many reasons for this: the rugged coastline, the harsher weather in winter, the historic remoteness. Sado island, located on this side, just off the coast of Niigata, was historically a place of exile. Most influential in this sorrowful feeling may have been the downfall of the Heike, and the death of young Emperor Antoku.[4] This story casts a feeling of loss that influenced all literature and poetry that followed. These things undoubtedly influenced Bashō in his idea that Kisakata was a sad and lonely place.


So here comes Issa. Ever the happy and playful personality, Issa is poking at Bashō’s a little, saying that even sad Kisakata (we might imagine a slightly sarcastic wink of the eye when he says that) is not quite as sad in the spring when the cherry blossoms come out. As we have seen in the past, Issa was always trying to use humor and playfulness in his haiku, a key factor to his popularity over the years.

I translated it as “spring” blossoms above, but in haiku any mention of blossoms always means cherry blossoms.


  1. See: Pronunciation of Japanese  ↩

  2. See: a note on translations  ↩

  3. See: a note on translations  ↩

  4. I haven’t written much about poor Emperor Antoku or the Heike Monogatari, but you can get a few hints of this history by reading The Story of Hoichi the Earless.  ↩

Blessing of the Cats

Spring is the season for love, as they say. It’s also considered the time when cats get their groove on. Issa had some thoughts on that when he observed it two hundred years ago.

山寺や祖師のゆるしの猫の恋
yamadera ya soshi no yurushi no neko no koi[1]

mountain temple—
with the blessing of the founder
cat’s love
—Issa[2]

Sleeping Cat — Inagaki Tomō
Sleeping Cat — Inagaki Tomō

Issa may have been making an observational haiku here. He was at the temple and spied some cats having a bit of fun, perhaps. There is a bit of a double-meaning, however.

Issa followed True Pure Land Buddhism (Jōdo Shinshū, 浄土真宗). The priest who created this sect, Shinran, got rid of the requirement for priests to remain celibate. His argument was that humans no longer had the ability to achieve enlightenment through their own efforts alone and could only do so by the grace of Amida, the cosmic Buddha. In other words, he made his flavor of Buddhism into a faith-based religion. Because salvation was solely granted by faith in Amida, remaining celibate was no longer necessary. He also criticized the established monastic system, calling it corrupt and out-of-touch.

So, then, back to the haiku: you can see how in his sect of Buddhism, cats are free to make love with the founder’s blessing. No wonder Pure Land Buddhism became the most popular sect of Buddhism in Japan![3]


  1. See: Pronunciation of Japanese  ↩

  2. See: a note on translations  ↩

  3. Pure Land Buddhism (Jōdoshū) and True Pure Land Buddhism (Jōdo Shinshū) are a little different. Jōdo Shinshū promotes the idea that faith in Amida alone is sufficient for salvation, while Jōdoshū emphases practice and the nembutsu chant a little more. The pure faith-based approach makes Jōdo Shinshū a little more popular in Japan. That said, they are both similar enough that people often group them together.  ↩

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]

Okamoto Ryusei - The Daily Renewal
Okamoto Ryusei – The Daily Renewal

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.

Ame no Uzume dancing to draw Amaterasu out of the cave
Ame no Uzume dancing to draw Amaterasu out of the cave

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.

[Last updated: 5 Sep 2025]

  1. See: Pronunciation of Japanese  ↩

  2. See: a note on translations  ↩

  3. The mythical Emperor Jimmu, the first Emperor of Japan, is said to have built his palace near this area.  ↩

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