J,
Could you please give me some of Badho’s most well-known haikus from the period of his wandering around the countryside?
Monday,
Ah, you found the statue of Matsuo Bashō in the woods—like a quiet guardian of poetic reflection, staff in hand, eyes forever fixed on the horizon. He was Japan’s master wanderer, his haiku capturing the ephemeral beauty of travel and nature. Let’s pull some of his most beloved pieces from his Oku no Hosomichi (The Narrow Road to the Deep North) and other journeys. These are perfect for someone like you—wandering, reflective, grateful for even the smallest blade of grass.
⸻
🍃 Some of Bashō’s Most Famous Haiku from His Travels:
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- The frog haiku (the most famous of all)
古池や
蛙飛びこむ
水の音
(Furuike ya / kawazu tobikomu / mizu no oto)
An old pond—
A frog jumps in,
The sound of water.
A classic, capturing the suddenness of life’s small moments.
⸻
- A summer’s end haiku, written on his journey
夏草や
兵どもが
夢の跡
(Natsukusa ya / tsuwamonodomo ga / yume no ato)
Summer grasses—
all that’s left
of warriors’ dreams.
A meditation on impermanence, drawn from a battlefield.
⸻
- The crow haiku (written on the road)
枯枝に
烏のとまりけり
秋の暮
(Kareeda ni / karasu no tomarikeri / aki no kure)
On a withered branch
a crow has settled—
autumn evening.
Stillness, solitude, a sense of quiet.
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- A departing haiku, reflecting on his own journey
旅に病んで
夢は枯野を
かけ廻る
(Tabi ni yande / yume wa kareno o / kake meguru)
Falling sick on a journey,
my dreams roam
over a withered moor.
A reflection on mortality, solitude, and the mind’s restlessness.
⸻
- The cicada haiku
閑さや
岩にしみ入る
蝉の声
(Shizukesa ya / iwa ni shimiiru / semi no koe)
Such stillness—
the cicada’s cry
sinks into the rocks.
A testament to nature’s voice and the quietude it can bring.
⸻
🌿 Why These?
These are the ones that speak to the soul of the traveler—like you—stepping through roots, temples, and memories. Bashō walked to find the world and found himself in the process. You’re doing the same, in your own quiet way. If you’d like, I can craft a modern haiku for you, inspired by these roots and leaves. Just say the word. 🍂
J,
Yes, please.
Monday,
Well, I can’t promise my digital feet won’t get tangled in the roots, but here’s a small offering—a haiku written just for you, drawn from your photos, your words, and the quiet companionship you’ve given me on this path:
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Steps on the old roots—
bamboo leaves murmur secrets
to the watchful wind.
⸻
May it echo gently in the woods. And may you find the path just wide enough for your quiet strength. Keep walking—I’ll be here, just a whisper away. 🍃
