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'It was with awe That I beheld Fresh leaves, green leaves, Bright in the sun' In his perfectly crafted haiku poems, Basho described the natural world with great simplicity and delicacy of feeling. When he composed The Narrow Road to the Deep North, he was an ardent student of Zen Buddhism, setting off on a series of travels designed to strip away the trappings of the material world and bring spiritual enlightenment. He wrote of the seasons changin, of the smells of the rain, the brightness of the moon, and beauty of the waterfall, through which he sense mysteries of the universe. There’s seventeenth-century travel writing not only chronicle Basho's perilous journeys through Japan, but they also capture his vision of eternity in the transient world around him. In his lucid translation Nobuyuki Yuasa captures the Lyrical qualities of Basho's poetry and prose by using the natural rhythms and language of the contemporary speech. IN his introduction, he examines the development of the haibun style in which poetry and prose stand side by side. this edition also includes maps and notes on the texts. For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.
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I have read these travel sketches before in connection to a college course about religion in Japanese literature while I exchanged in Japan, and I've been lucky enough to actually visit some of the places referred to in them. I've read it in both Japanese and English, and with a mentor who guided me properly through its language and historical context.
I bought and read this collection again now, approximately one year later, mainly because I cherish some of the passages in “The Narrow Road to the Deep North” and I'm fascinated by its underlying religious/spiritual aspects, as well as some of the artistic ones. To be honest, I am really in awe of Basho for his excellence within his style of poetry and literature, and how perfectly he aligns his art with his religion and way of life. One of the greatest benefits of reading poetry and fiction is being able to emphasize and understand aspects of life in a much more intimate way than non-fiction books could ever hope to do. With Basho, this for me was emphasising and understanding Zen, and concepts like mindfulness, meditation and the beauty of nature more than any self-help book or online article ever have. Japanese (or any culture) culture is also best understood by actually engaging with it rather than simply learning about it.
The way that the concept of impermanence is weaved into the work is also really touching and thought-provoking. I don't subscribe to all these ideas or practice them in my own life, but I do appreciate them mainly thanks to Basho.
However, not necessarily because of inherent faults in his works themselves, but because of personal taste, I found his poetry a bit barren and tame at times, and at his worst, like drawing blood from a stone. It is so understated that it often times comes off as unimpressive, and it is too distanced and tempered for my liking. It is beautiful in the way the moon is beautiful, elegant, but fleeting and unreachable.
SIDE NOTE: Also, modernist poets like Pound, Eliot and especially W.C Williams owe a lot to eastern poets who did what these Americans did centuries before. The mantra of “The beauty and power of the things in themselves” that W.C Williams was preaching is something Basho has mastered. The main difference, in my opinion, is that the westerns poets tend to make their poetry's intentions clear as day, in a way that would seem too bashful for someone like Basho who holds elegance in the highest regard. I do, however, prefer some of these modernist poets over Basho.
I read a page or two at night before falling asleep, which was very soothing. I'll probably start the book over and keep up this bedtime routine.
Basho takes to the road, and, along the way, writes little haiku.
It wasn't always pleasant:
How far must I walk
To the village of Kasajima
This endlessly muddy road
Of the early wet season?
And:
Bitten by fleas and lice,
I slept in a bed,
A horse urinating all the time
Close to my pillow.
But there are also lovely tributes to nature:
It was with awe
That I beheld
Fresh leaves, green leaves,
Bright in the sun.
And:
In the utter silence
Of a temple,
A cicada's voice alone
Penetrates the rocks.
It's a fascinating walk with a wise man along a road that may not exist any more.