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The Mainichi
5 days ago
- The Mainichi
Japanese literary scholar Keene's reflections on haiku rhythm, travels of Matsuo Basho
Donald Keene's journey tracing the footsteps of haiku poet Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) in Basho's masterpiece "Oku no Hosomichi," which Keene later translated into English as "The Narrow Road to Oku," took him from Miyagi Prefecture into the adjacent Yamagata Prefecture. His first stop was the renowned temple Risshakuji, also known as "Yamadera." This was in late spring 1955, 70 years ago. Details of Keene's journey were published in the June 1955 issue of the literary magazine Chuo Koron under the title "Komo Oku no Hosomichi" (loosely translating as "Westerner's narrow road to Oku"). In April 2025, admirers of Keene including this reporter undertook the same journey while reflecting on his travelogue and translation of Basho's work. Here we start with a visit to Risshakuji Temple in Yamagata Prefecture and an encounter there. Yamadera Basho traveled from Hiraizumi to Dewa province (Yamagata Prefecture) via Naruko Onsen hot spring, but Keene entered Yamadera via Sakunami Onsen hot spring to the south. The route going through Sendai was probably convenient for him as he was traveling by rail. Here, too, Keene was welcomed by cherry blossoms in full bloom. "There was a young monk on the veranda of the Konpon Chudo (Yamadera's main hall), who was absorbed studying an English reader. When I called out to him, he decided to guide us," Keene recalled, though he noted, "The explanations that the monk had memorized sounded a bit odd." At the time, it was likely rare for foreigners to visit Yamadera. The monk's earnest effort to provide explanations using the English he had just learned is endearing. Yamadera today is different, I found. Due to the revival of inbound tourism, there were many foreign visitors there, joyfully running up the 1,015 stone steps. I met one young man there, from Australia. He was on a six-week vacation traveling across Japan from the northernmost prefecture of Hokkaido all the way down to Kagoshima in the southwest, using a rental car as accommodation. He told me with delight that Japan has hot springs everywhere and that he planned to head to Hakuba Happo in Nagano Prefecture next. He said he was 33 years old, -- the same age Keene was when he visited. I explained the origin of the statues there of Basho and his student Kawai Sora (1649-1710), but received a puzzled response: "Basho? Donald Keene?" The names were apparently unfamiliar to him, but he added before departing that it was intriguing and that he planned to look them up. In some way, he mirrored the young Keene. Ryushaku-ji There is a mountain temple in the domain of Yamagata called the Ryushaku-ji. It was founded by the Great Teacher Jikaku, and is a place noted for its tranquillity. People had urged us to go there "even for a brief look," and we had turned back at Obanazawa to make the journey, a distance of about fifteen miles. It was still daylight when we arrived. After first reserving pilgrim's lodgings at the foot of the mountain, we climbed to the temple itself at the summit. Boulders piled on boulders had created this mountain, and the pines and cedars on its slopes were old. The earth and stones were worn and slippery with moss. At the summit the doors of the temple buildings were all shut, and not a sound could be heard. Circling around the cliffs and crawling over the rocks, we reached the main temple building. In the splendor of the scene and the silence I felt a wonderful peace penetrate my heart. shizukasa ya / iwa ni shimiiru / semi no koe How still it is here -- / Stinging into the stones, / The locusts' trill. It was on the 27th day of the fifth month according to the old lunar calendar (July 13 in the Gregorian calendar) that Basho visited this place. This was around when the rainy season was coming to an end and the full brunt of summer was arriving. Keene often referenced this famous haiku in his later lectures. When the haiku is romanized, the vowel "i" appears seven times. "This is what makes the haiku rhythmic," Keene said. To his ear, probably not only the cicada's song but also the "rhythm of the haiku," unnoticed when rendered in Japanese characters, was audible. Shitomae Barrier After visiting Yamadera, Keene headed north, turned east from the city of Obanazawa, crossed the mountain pass at the prefectural border, and arrived at Naruko Onsen. Regarding Naruko's famous "kokeshi" dolls, he mused, "It seemed a bit strange for adults to collect such things." More intriguing to him were the historical remains of the barrier station that Basho had dedicated a chapter to, known as "Shitomae Barrier." What kind of place was it? Shitomae Barrier Turning back to look at the road stretching far off to Nambu in the north, we spent the night at the village of Iwade. We passed by Ogurosaki and Mizu no Ojima, and from the hot springs at Narugo headed for Shitomae Barrier, intending to cross into Dewa Province. Travellers are rare along this road, and we were suspiciously examined by guards at the barrier. Only with much trouble did we manage to get through. By the time we had climbed the mountain there, the sun had already set. We found a border guard's house and asked to spend the night. For three days a terrible storm raged, and we had no choice but to remain in those dreary mountains. nomi shirami / uma no shito suru / makura moto Plagued by fleas and lice, / I hear the horses staling / Right by my pillow. Though it was an important highway from Sendai to Dewa province, travelers were rare, and Basho and his party apparently came under suspicion. Today, only a fence and a small storehouse remain, with a grassy area that can't really be called a park spreading out desolately. Standing there, Keene reflected on the name Shitomae, consisting of the characters for "urine" and "front": "Perhaps due to the name Shitomae, I suddenly felt the urge to urinate. Normally, I wouldn't have hesitated to relieve myself, but the guides were calling me 'Dr. Keene, Dr. Keene,' so I felt I had to act like a doctor. ... It made me think, there are times when being treated as a doctor is troublesome." This anecdote was typical of Keene, always full of a spirit of humor. As for Basho, after somehow managing to pass through the barrier, his party sought shelter at the house of a barrier official along the highway as dusk approached. They ended up being stuck there for three days due to a storm. This house still exists and is open to the public as "Hojin no Ie" (house of the barrier guard). Inside, the room where Basho stayed is preserved, and sitting by the sunken hearth, one can feel as if they've traveled back in time. Mogami River The final stop on our journey was the Mogami River, the setting for the famous haiku "samidare wo" (The summer rains). After visiting Yamadera, Basho traveled north along the river, waited for favorable weather in the town of Oishida, and boarded a boat. Let's look at Keene's translation of Basho's original text. The Mogami River We waited for the weather to clear at a place called Oishida, intending to sail down the Mogami River. People told us that the seeds of the old haikai poetry had been scattered here, and they still recalled nostalgically the unforgotten, long-ago days of its glory; the rustic notes of a reed pipe brought music to their hearts. "We are groping for the right path, uncertain which to follow, the old or the new, but there is no one to guide us on our way," they said, and I had no choice but to compose with them a scroll of poems. The poetry-making of this journey had reached to even such a place. The Mogami River has its source in Michinoku, and its upper reaches are in Yamagata. The Chessboard and Peregrine Rapids are among the terrifying danger spots in its course. The river flows north of Itajiki Mountain, and finally enters the sea at Sakata. Mountains overhang the river on both sides, and boats are sent downstream through the thick vegetation. Probably what the poet called "rice boats" were boats like mine, except loaded with rice. Through breaks in the green leaves we could see the White Thread Falls. The Hermit's Hall stands facing the riverbank. The river was swollen and the boat in danger. samidare wo / atsumete hayashi / Mogamigawa Gathering seawards / The summer rains, how swiftly flows / Mogami River. Keene visited this river in early spring and noted, "The Mogami River was still 'swift,' but there were no boats or driftwood, and it felt lonely." The water level was likely low. Before heading for Risshakuji, Basho stopped at Obanazawa. There, he stayed at the home of the local haiku poet Suzuki Seifu (1651-1721). This house remains and Keene also visited it. It now serves as the Basho-Seifu Historical Museum and displays material related to Basho. Keene saw a monument inscribed with the "samidare wo" haiku at a nearby temple, but wrote, "I am not particularly interested in haiku monuments. Wherever I go, I am guided to them first. Out of courtesy, I try to hide my lack of interest by touching the monument or tracing unreadable characters, but to tell the truth I don't find them interesting at all. It may be evidence that I lack the spirit of haiku." Having learned about the traditional short poetry form of haiku through Basho, Keene would later compile a biography of Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), the Meiji-era poet who revived the allure of haiku in modern times. When he gave lectures in towns with deep connections to haiku, he would sometimes compose one himself after being invited to do so. Keene apparently was unable to settle into the idea of leaving haiku behind on monuments, but he appreciated the allure of haiku, which depict a world without limits within their 5-7-5 syllable format.
Indian Express
15-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
Author Karen Jennings on her latest novel Crooked Seeds and how social media has impacted our sense of history
You've said that the vision of the lighthouse from An Island (2019) came to you in a dream, during an afternoon nap. What about the story of Crooked Seeds? I'm afraid it was a lot less neat and tidy. In fact, it is hard to trace the process or progression clearly. Some of the ideas or aspects of the characters go back as far as the 1980s, when I was a little girl and overheard a conversation between my dad and his colleague. She told him about growing up, how her mother had always favoured her son and treated her daughters as inferior to him. Other aspects of the novel go to my mid-20s when I passed a ditch being dug by the municipality. Each day, when I passed that ditch, they had dug up more artefacts — nothing interesting, just old handbags and bottles and bits of cutlery and rope and plastic. I remember knowing there was something important here, in this digging, the finding of things. I didn't know what, though. Countless other little experiences and thoughts and dreams made their way into the chaos in my mind and came out (hopefully) neatly on the pages. The South African landscape is almost a character in the novel. Is it at all possible to write about South Africa and Africa without talking about socio-political issues? Can one write about anywhere without including socio-political issues? I am a proud South African. South Africa is my home. I love its people and places. I am not afraid to say it publicly: everything that is good in this country is because of the South African people. For the bad, yes, we can blame history, but we can also blame a government that puts cronyism before the people. Most days, I want to ask our president: How do you sleep at night? Aren't you ashamed of your spinelessness? In the novel, there are also themes of memory, trauma and historical reconciliation. How did you approach post-Apartheid South Africa? A lot of reading. I make sure to read widely when doing research — newspapers, interviews, diaries, letters, fiction, non-fiction. We all understand, of course, that fiction is not meant to be focused on fact-giving. But in order for fiction to have value – in order for it to have an essential authenticity — research must be done. In addition, I spend a lot of time 'in place' — walking, looking, observing. The 17th century Japanese Haiku master Basho said that if you want to write about the tree then you must go to the tree. I believe that completely. Go to the tree — physically and through research. How has the landscape for postcolonial African literature changed since you began writing? This is an interesting question. Recently, someone from a different country in Africa indicated to me that young Africans don't know what colonialism is. It is something 'too far back' in history to be thought of — yet we still see the socio-economic consequences of it to this day; we still see knock-on effects such as cultural appropriation. Whatever the young know or don't know about colonialism or postcolonialism, they don't seem to be learning it from books. A few days ago, I was explaining to a student of mine that the only thing she needed to work on in her essay is to write smoother sentences. She asked me if I could recommend a TikTok channel to help her with that. I said, 'How can you ask me that? What you need to do is read, not watch Tiktok!' An Island and Crooked Seeds have a nonlinear narrative and yet it's effortless to envision the story. Talk us through your writing process. Short answer: agony. Long answer: lots of agony. The very dismal truth is that I write draft after draft after draft, on and on and on and on until I am sick and depressed. But by the end I know my character and my story completely. Your portrayal of marginalised characters has been praised for its nuance. What responsibility do you feel writers have when representing voices that have historically been silenced? This is a tough question. One must always approach one's writing with sensitivity. Even when one comes to it with good intentions, there is always a worry about appropriation or being offensive. Thorough research can help, as can using third-person narrators and avoiding giving characters accents or using patois that can come across as condescending. These are all practical matters. But consider the forgotten people in history — not necessarily heroes, just ordinary people whose role in our country's past and therefore in its present might be forgotten unless you write about them. Last year, I wrote a number of short stories related to slaves and servants at the Cape of Good Hope/Cape Colony in the 18th century. These stories were based on archival and other research. If I don't write about them, will someone else do it? Will AI remember our pasts for us and write about it for us? Already most South Africans don't even know the truth about South Africa's slave past. Shouldn't they know that history and the people it affected and in what ways? May that inspire them too to explore, to research and to write. Mazumdar is a Delhi-based independent writer
The Mainichi
02-06-2025
- The Mainichi
Retracing the steps of Japanese literary scholar Keene along 'The Narrow Road to Oku'
It was in the late spring of 1955 that Japanese literature scholar Donald Keene first traveled to northeastern Japan's Tohoku region to follow the steps of Edo period poet Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) in his masterwork "Oku no Hoshimichi," which Keene later translated as "The Narrow Road to Oku." Seventy years later, in April 2025, admirers of Keene including this reporter undertook the same journey. We called it "a journey following the young Keene, who followed Basho." The first leg of the trip took us to the town of Matsushima in Miyagi Prefecture, the town of Hiraizumi in neighboring Iwate Prefecture, and Yamadera temple in Yamagata Prefecture, where we were greeted by cherry blossoms in each location. Keene's initial journey took place near the end of his two years of study at Kyoto University from 1953. In an autobiography, he wrote, "For a time, I had considered actually walking the entire distance. ... In any case, unlike Basho, I could spend only a few weeks on these travels." He also wrote that "at every spot the cherry blossoms had just reached their peak," meaning that he likely traveled there between mid and late April. Details of this journey were published in the June 1955 issue of the literary magazine Chuo Koron under the title "Komo Oku no Hosomichi" (loosely translating as "Westerner's narrow road to Oku). Below, we draw on this travelogue, originally written in Japanese, and Keene's translation of "The Narrow Road to Oku." Shiogama After passing through Nikko and Shirakawa Barrier, Keene arrived in Sendai. At that time, the occupying forces were still stationed in the city, likely reminding him of his past role as a Japanese language interpreter for the military. On arriving at Shiogama Shrine in the evening, he first sought out the "lantern presented by Izumi no Saburo in the third year of Bunji [1187]," and wrote, that he was thrilled to realize that Basho had seen the same lantern. The lantern still stands as it did then, to the right of the main hall. Let's read Keene's translation of "The Narrow Road to Oku." Shiogama Early the next morning we visited the Myojin Shrine in Shiogama. As rebuilt by the governor of the province, the shrine has imposing pillars, colorfully painted rafters, and flight upon flight of stone steps. The morning sun was shining brightly on the vermilion lacquered fence around the shrine. I was profoundly impressed to think that it was typical of our country for the miraculous manifestation of the gods to have occurred in so distant a place, at the very end of the world. Before the shrine is an old lantern. A metal door bears the inscription, "Presented by Izumi no Saburo in the third year of Bunji [1187]." It was strange how these words evoked scenes of five hundred years ago. Izumi was a brave and loyal warrior whose fame has lasted to the present; there is no one who does not hold him in esteem. It has been truly said: "A man should practice the way and maintain his righteousness. Fame will follow of itself." It was already close to noon. We hired a boat and crossed to Matsushima. After another five miles on the water we arrived at the beach of the island of Ojima. Matsushima Keene entered Matsushima, one of Japan's three most scenic spots, via Tagajo, traveling by train. Having heard negative comments like "Matsushima is a dirty place" from people along the way, he boarded the sightseeing boat "preparing to be disappointed." However, a woman's voice came over the loudspeaker carefully explaining the names of the islands, and though it was raining, he said, "I was neither disappointed nor impressed." Furthermore, the twilight view from his inn was magnificent, leading him to conclude, "I was moved no less than Basho was. If 'the finest scenery in the land' exists in Japan, I believe it is in Matsushima." Perhaps this was an example of the large difference between hearing and actually seeing. Below is Keene's translation of Basho's description of Matsushima in "The Narrow Road to Oku." Matsushima No matter how often it has been said, it is nonetheless true that the scenery at Matsushima is the finest in Japan, in no way inferior to Tung-t'ing or the Western Lake in China. The sea flows in from the southeast forming a bay seven miles across, and the incoming tide surges in massively, just as in Che-chiang. There are countless islands. Some rise up and point at the sky; the low-lying ones crawl into the waves. There are islands piled double or even stacked three high. To the left the islands stand apart; to the right they are linked together. Some look as if they carried little islands on their backs, others as if they held the islands in their arms, evoking a mother's love of her children. The green of the pines is of a wonderful darkness, and their branches are constantly bent by winds from the sea, so that their crookedness seems to belong to the nature of the trees. The scene has the mysterious charm of the face of a beautiful woman. I wonder if Matsushima was created by the God of the Mountains in the Age of the Gods? What man could capture in a painting or a poem the wonder of this masterpiece of nature? On Ojima, an island connected to the mainland that thrusts out into the sea, are the remains of the Zen master Ungo's hut, and the rock upon which he used to meditate. I caught glimpses here and there under the pines of priests who had abandoned the world. They live quietly in thatched huts from which even at that moment smoke from the fallen pine needles and cones they use as fuel was rising. I did not know what manner of men they might be, but I felt drawn to them. As I walked in their direction I could see the moon shining on the sea, and the scenery of Matsushima quite unlike what it had been during the day. I returned to the shore and took a room at an inn, a two-story building with open windows looking out over the bay. When I lay down to sleep in the breeze and the clouds, I experienced a feeling of strange pleasure. Matsushima ya / tsuru ni mi wo kare / hototogisu (Sora) At Matsushima / Borrow your plumes from the crane / O nightingales! I lay down without composing a poem, but was too excited to sleep. I recalled that when I left my old cottage I was presented by Sodo with a poem in Chinese about Matsushima, and with a tanka by Hara Anteki on Matsugaura Island. I opened my knapsack and made these poems my companions for the night. There were also hokku by Sanpu and Jokushi. On the eleventh we visited the Zuigan-ji. Many years ago, thirty-two generations before the present abbot, Makabe no Heishiro entered Buddhist orders, went to China for study, and founded this temple after his return to Japan. Later, the seven halls of the temple were rebuilt as the result of the virtuous efforts of the Zen monk Ungo. Now the temple has become a great hall of worship, the golden walls shining with a splendor worthy of Buddha's paradise. I wondered where the temple of the Holy Man Kenbutsu might be. Keene himself visited Zuiganji temple, and was moved, writing, "Having been repulsed by the gaudiness of Toshogu Shrine (in Nikko), I was impressed by the solemn beauty of Zuiganji." This was a typical reaction for Keene who preferred simplicity over extravagance. The row of cedar trees that once stood in front of the temple's gate fell to the tsunami following the March 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake and young trees now grow in their place -- a lone display of the passage of time. Keene noted that he enjoyed the famous "Koren senbei" rice crackers at a nearby teahouse saying they were delicious, so we stopped by as well. Although the building had been newly rebuilt, the delicately flavored senbei remained unchanged. Hiraizumi Keene proceeded to Hiraizumi via Ichinoseki. The persisting rain amazingly cleared, and he visited the local temple Chuson-ji amid the full bloom of cherry blossoms. He wrote, "Until I embarked on the journey of 'The Narrow Road to Oku' I couldn't understand the Japanese attachment to cherry blossoms." He drew a comparison with his visit to Yoshino in Nara Prefecture the previous year (1954). The fact that Yoshino was renowned as one of the best cherry blossom spots in the Kansai region may have raised his expectations, but he was left disenchanted with the cherry blossoms in the tourist area, which had become secularized, writing, "I noticed the lunch boxes, drunks, and vulgar music blaring from loudspeakers." Hiraizumi, on the other hand, offered a different experience. "After the long Tohoku winter, the cherry blossoms blooming in the black forest show their true beauty," he wrote. It was here that his ideal cherry blossom landscape stretched out. Among this, the brilliance of the temple's Golden Hall (Konjikido) was even more stunning. Keene praised it, saying, "Since coming to Japan, I've been captivated by wonderful Buddhist statues, feeling they embody absolute beauty. ... However, it was when I saw the inner sanctum of Chuson-ji that I was struck by beauty to the point of trembling, losing myself and entering a world beyond this one. ... I believe it is one of the finest expressions of paradise created by humans in the world." Later, Hiraizumi would be registered as a cultural World Heritage site, but Keene had already sensed its value. Incidentally, Basho visited Hiraizumi in the fifth month of the second year of Genroku (1689) according to the old lunar calendar, which would have been during the rainy season. How did Basho evaluate Hiraizumi? Let's read the original text translated by Keene. Hiraizumi The three generations of glory of the Fujiwara of Hiraizumi vanished in the space of a dream. The ruins of their Great Gate are two miles this side of the castle. Where once Hidehira's mansion stood there are now fields, and only Golden Cockerel Mountain retains its old appearance. We first climbed up to Palace-on-the-Heights, from where we could see the Kitakami, a big river that flows down from Nambu. The Koromo River circles Izumi Saburo's castle, then flows into the big river below Palace-on-the-Heights. The ruins of Yasuhira's time are on the other side of the Koromo Barrier, seemingly to protect the Nambu gateway from intrusion by the Ainu. It was at Palace-on-the-Heights that Yoshitsune and his picked retainers fortified themselves, but his glory turned in a moment into this wilderness of grass. "Countries may fall, but their rivers and mountains remain; when spring comes to the ruined castle, the grass is green again." These lines went through my head as I sat on the ground, my bamboo hat spread under me. There I sat weeping, unaware of the passage of time. natsukusa ya / tsuwamono domo ga / yume no ato The summer grasses -- / Of brave soldiers' dreams / The aftermath. unohana ni / Kanefusa miyuru / shiraga kana (Sora) In the verbena / I seem to see Kanefusa-- / Behold his white hair! The two halls of the Chuson-ji, whose wonders I had heard of and marvelled at, were both open. The Sutra Hall contains statues of the three generals of Hiraizumi; the Golden Hall has their coffins and an enshrined Buddhist trinity. The "seven precious things" were scattered and lost, the gem-inlaid doors broken by the wind, and the pillars fretted with gold were flaked by the frost and snow. The temple would surely have crumbled and turned into an empty expanse of grass had it not been recently strengthened on all sides and the roof tiled to withstand the wind and rain. A monument of a thousand years has been preserved a while longer. samidare no / furinokoshite ya / Hikari-do Have the rains of spring / Spared you from their onslaught, / Shining Hall of Gold? (Japanese original by Tadahiko Mori, The Mainichi Staff Writer and Donald Keene Memorial Foundation director) This is a spinoff article related to a 60-part Mainichi Shimbun series about Donald Keene, exploring the near-century of the Japanologist's life along with his own writings. Spinoff articles are posted irregularly. The original text of Donald Keene's autobiographies is used with permission from the Donald Keene Memorial Foundation. The foundation's website can be reached at:
Metropolis Japan
25-05-2025
- Metropolis Japan
Historic Walks Near Tokyo
Photo Credit to Iyhon Chiu (Flickr) Japan's northern Tohoku region was once a rugged land of deep mountains and wild forests. Anyone traveling there during the ordered days of the Edo period was thought to be risking life and limb for very little gain. Yet people still traveled, and one way of doing so was via the old Nikko Kaido highway. Built to safely connect Edo to the mausoleum of Tokugawa Ieyasu in Nikko, its construction had the unintended effect of solidifying the master status of one of the world's greatest poets. One of the most atmospheric historic walks near Tokyo can be found in Soka, where pine-lined paths trace the journey of haiku master Matsuo Basho. Portrait of Bashō by Hokusai, late 18th century A person would be hard-pressed not to have heard of haiku master, Matsuo Basho. His travels across Japan fine-tuned his poetic craft to such an extent that he became one of Japan's greatest cultural exports. Even now, over three hundred years after his passing, there are still few who could seriously claim to have bettered his art. Often translated as The Narrow Road to the Deep North , his most famous work, the travelogue Oku no Hosomichi , owes its inspiration to Basho's journeys into Japan's wilds, a journey he began from the Nikko Kaido highway. Beginning in what is now Kita-Senju in East Tokyo, Basho soon arrived at the highway's second post station, Soka. The city, once verdantly agricultural, is famous for its senbei rice crackers and commuter town university life, but perhaps owes a verse or two to Basho. His words, ' We barely managed to reach the post-town of Soka by nightfall. My greatest burden was the pack I carried on my thin, bony shoulders. ' An inauspicious start, perhaps, but Soka was now permanently scribed on the map. Leaving the next day, Basho traveled further, wrote deeper, and became a national legend. The city maintains its connection with Basho's Edo-era times. During those years, hundreds of pine trees were planted along the Nikko Kaido highway. These trees, including more recently planted ones, still line what is now the Soka Matsubara Promenade. It's a designated National Place of Scenic Beauty. At the time of its recognition in 2013, there were 634 pine trees lining the promenade. The city has worked hard to ensure that the legacy of Basho, as well as its own, remains accessible. Replete with reminders of Basho, the promenade follows the north-south flow of the Ayase River. It is an extension of the area's Fudabagashi Park. Standing sentinel at the entrance to the promenade as it leads north is a replica wooden Edo period bourou watchtower. Once used for spotting fires in flammable old Japan, the tower's crisp geometric shape marks the metaphorical border between Basho's old life and the new one he would come into during his travels. A beautiful touch, a little further on, is the lifesize bronze statue of Basho. He glances backwards towards the old city of Edo as he steps forward into the north. Watching over it is a verse engraved in stone by the esteemed scholar of Japanese literature, the late Donald Keene. A hagi bush-clover tree planted by Keene further honors Basho's connection with Soka. The promenade features two particularly impressive bridges. One, Yatate Bridge, was so named because of a famous line in Basho's travel diary that references the portable yatate brush-and-ink case he used to begin his writing. Yatate Bridge. Photo from Japan Travel The bridge's arched structure offers elevated views of both the pine trees and the river. Further along, an even more impressive bridge is the similarly arched Hyakutai Bridge. Inspired by the very first line of Oku no Hosomichi, hyakutai literally means '100 generations' and refers to eternity. The pines of the promenade certainly seem peacefully ageless. Given the influence of Basho's poetry, the naming of this bridge is most appropriate. As if a nationally recognized promenade wasn't enough, the city celebrates Matsuo Basho's place in its history with the annual Soka Matsubara Dream Festival. Making its debut in 2015, this relative newcomer to the summer festival scene takes place on the first weekend of July. It features some lovely night illumination of the promenade's pine trees as well as the Yatate and Hyakutai bridges. Traditional Japanese street stalls are, of course, aplenty, while boat rides along the Ayase River are a popular attraction. Each year, the organizers find new ways to appear, with some years seeing rickshaw and even hot-air balloon rides. Japan has changed incredibly since the three centuries when Basho left the old Edo capital on his journey into the wild lands. What hasn't changed, however, is the extraordinary respect and admiration that one of Japan's greatest masters continues to inspire. Small though it may have been, Soka's role in nurturing that inspiration was both real and pivotal. It's now easily enjoyed by thousands of visitors annually. Take the Tobu Skytree Line to Dokkyo Daigaku Mae Station (formerly known as Matsubara Danchi Station) to access this historic walk near Tokyo. The Soka Matsubara Promenade is just a five-minute walk from the East Exit. For easy day-trips near Tokyo, check out our other guides: Kawagoe Day Trip: Historic Streets, Sweet Shops and Edo-Era Charm Kanagawa Neighborhood Guide: Things to Do in Yokosuka
The Advertiser
25-05-2025
- The Advertiser
Beyond the ski slopes: take a hidden trail through Japan's poetic wilderness
Natagiri Pass in Tohoku sits away from Japan's popular ski trails. In 1689, the area - in the north-east of the main island of Honshu - was made famous by Japan's most famous haiku poet, Matsuo Basho, when he penned his travelogue, The Narrow Road to the Deep North. To explore the area in the thick of winter you need specialised equipment, and on an adventurous tour with walking experts, Walk Japan, I donned snowshoes to embark on a hike through deep snowfall. Without a soul in sight, the untouched trail lay before our small group like a scene from a Disney fairytale. During the 17th century, the pass was known for its lawlessness and when Basho journeyed through the forest, he feared bandits, but we had no such concerns. Inspired by the quiet beauty of the snow-laden cedar trees, we attempted our own three-line haikus, following the 5-7-5 syllable count, but our unskilled attempts were more ditty than poetry.
