Moonlight & Wisteria

The other day I posted some photos of the wisteria on a different blog. Around 300 years ago, someone else was thinking of those pretty flowers. He wrote:

月に遠くおぼゆる藤の色香かな
tsuki ni tōku oboyuru fuji no iroka kana[1]

in the moonlight
the scent and color of the wisteria
seem far away
—Buson[2]

Wisteria at Tsushima by David LaSpina
“Wisteria at Tsushima” by David LaSpina

Is “wisteria” also the plural form? “Wisterias” sounds strange to me, but I could just be under the influence of Japanese here which would not change form. As you can see in the photo above, the wisteria bloom in pretty big patches so I’d tend to use the word with a plural meaning.

Anyway, Buson is generally considered one of the top haiku masters in history, probably second only to Bashō. He was a painter in addition to a poet and in fact made his living primarily from his painting, at least when he was younger. Due to this, most of his haiku have an artistic quality, as if he were painting with words. This arguably makes his style more influential than the great Bashō. A hundred and fifty years later when Shiki created the modern haiku it was from Buson that he took influence, not from Bashō whom he considered overrated. And today, at least when people aren’t playing simple syllable counting games, the majority of haiku people write follow this “painting with words” approach. Shiki called this shasei by the way.

There is a wonderful ambiguity in this haiku above. Is he talking of a real distance or an imagined one? If he talking of the here and now or is he wistfully thinks of the past? The wisteria already have an ephemeral quality as they only last a short time; both the setting of night and the ambiguity of the poem emphasize this. As so often with Buson, there is a sense of tranquility here, an atmosphere of contemplation. There is a strong feeling of mono no aware, which is seeking beauty and meaning in the fleeting moments of life.

The kigo (season word) here would be fuji (“wisteria”). It is a kigo for late spring.

Dreaming of Turtles

はつ夢や正しく去年の放し亀
hatsuyume ya masashiku kozo no hanashi-game[1]

first dream
it was last year’s
freed turtle
—Gonsui[2]

Turtles and Sake Cup by Yashima Gakutei
“Turtles and Sake Cup” by Yashima Gakutei

The New Year in Japan brings a collection of firsts that people enjoy doing. Of these, first dream and first sunrise may be the most popular.

This haiku looks at one of those firsts: the first dream of the year. Gonsui’s dream of turtles would be a very auspicious dream—a dream of turtles he set free in the previous year, doubly so.

Liberating animals once or twice a year is an old Buddhist practice, and that is what Gonsui is referring to here. Turtles are a very special creature in Japan. In mythology the turtle is associated with long life—1000 years, they say—and it is also a very thankful creature, always returning any kindness shown to it. One may be reminded of the folk tale Urashima Taro in which as a reward for saving him the turtle rewards Urashima by taking him to the kingdom at the bottom of the sea.

In olden times fishermen would throw back any turtles they caught, but not before treating them to a bit of saké. No doubt they hoped the turtle would be thankful and would come back to reward them.

In Gonsui’s dream, was the turtle (or turtles) he released showing up to express gratitude and perhaps give a gift of long life? I’m sure Gonsui hoped so!

A New Years Resolution

It’s now been almost three years since I bought this domain and set up this page. I had big plans. But I was a perfectionist. I wanted every post to be perfect. I wrote plenty of material about Japan and about haiku, but I never actually posted most of it because it wasn’t perfect. As a result, this site has laid fallow for far too long.

I actually have still been writing for the internet. I’ve been writing and posting every day over at Hive. Here. I do earn money there, but not much—only about $5-$10 per post, and it’s paid in crypto, making it a pain to withdraw to either dollars or yen—so that is hardly a draw. For whatever reason posting there has not triggered my perfectionism in the same way that this blog has, as a result I actually post what I write there instead of sitting on it until it’s perfect. Perhaps it’s because I have no control over formatting there, whereas on this blog I have complete control; complete control can be good, but it can also be crippling because we want to use that control to make everything perfect.

Whatever the case may be, going forward I intend to push past this perfectionism and start publishing here again, ideally often. At first I may just continue my habit of publishing daily on Hive and then copy that post to here, but eventually I would like to reverse that, instead writing the post for this site and then copying it to Hive.

I don’t think I have comments turned on on this site. And I know the internet loves comments, so I’ll get on that. In the meantime, I will be using Twitter (until Elon kills it) and Mastodon. I’ll work out a footer with links to both of those. It’s been so long since I designed this site that I don’t remember offhand where to put the code for a footer. Please bear with me as I rediscover WordPress and the theme that I designed.

If I don’t make another post today (and if anyone discovers this), have a happy new year! May 2023 be a better one for us.

Our Secret Meeting Place

Under the spreading maple trees.

The bright red Japanese maples (紅葉 momiji) are without compare. Of all the autumn colors, they stand out the most. They go best when contrasted with the brilliant golden ginkgo (銀杏1, ichō), but are still gorgeous by themselves.

For the Japanese poetry lovers among us, momiji by itself is a kigo for late autumn. My saijiki2 mentions that momiji viewing parties began in the Heian period, which incidentally is also when cherry blossom viewing parties stared to be a thing.

This photo from Rokusho Shrine, which I previously introduced. There is a high school nearby, so school-kids are constantly going through this area. Not much of a secret place, unfortunately, but a beautiful one.


  1. Usually written with katakana instead of kanji: イチョウ. Easier to write that way, though much less interesting to kanji lovers like myself.  ↩

  2. A saijiki is a book or books (sometimes several volumes long) that contains a listing of kigo—season words—for use in haiku, divided by season, along with example haiku for each word and brief description.  ↩

Ambitious Snail

A quiet voice of encouragement — Issa speaks to a snail, and to us.

蝸牛そろそろ登れ富士の山
katatsumuri sorosoro nobore fuji no yama[1]

O snail
little by little climb
Mount Fuji
—Issa[2]

Mount Fugi from Mount Katsuragi by Toshi Yoshida
“Mount Fugi from Mount Katsuragi” by Toshi Yoshida

This is one of Issa’s most famous haiku. As such, you may have seen it before, or some variation of it. Often with haiku translations floating around, they are more the product of the mind of the translator than the original poet[3], but if you ever see one with a snail and Mt Fuji, it’s probably this one.

There are various interpretations of it. Many people take it to mean persevere and you can accomplish anything, and indeed that is the meaning I’m playfully hinting at with the title to this post. Blyth, however, had a different interpretation. He wrote:

If you are a snail, be a snail. And if as a snail you climb, follow your snail nature, your Buddha nature, and climb slowly, slowly!

In other words: be as you are. And if you happen to be a snail, then being as you are means moving or climbing slowly. Whether it’s a small incline or the grand Mount Fuji.

I think that’s more on the mark. Trying to stuff a motivational message in a poem doesn’t really fit with any of the ideals of early hokku poets, nor does it fit with any of Issa’s other poems. Issa was kind to all creatures and talked to them as if they were his friends. Here he is talking to his friend, telling it to be itself and climb the mountain slowly as is its nature.

[Last updated: 30 Aug 2025]

  1. See: Pronunciation of Japanese  ↩

  2. See: a note on translations  ↩

  3. No knock against this. Some of them are really wonderful interpretations of the original and stand on their own. Robert Hass has an entire haiku book full of these. But this style of translation is much more interpretation than translation. Then again, I’m well aware that this is an ongoing and never-ending debate. All translation, some would argue, is interpretation and the only way to get the exact original flavor is to read something in the original language.  ↩

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