Bashō's Road

to the small poem and the quiet voice within

1. gary Busha 08.08.10 / 12am

   Yes, but old age can be good, too
   like the progression of snapshots in old albums
   relatives so distant
   yet relative.
   Basho I would have loved to drink with,
   and the birds.
   Gar
2. Jackie 08.08.10 / 1am

   Another winner in the Haiku days–I like the idea of age settling like heavy clouds, but the birds can stay away. Must be my victimization from Hitchcock.
3. Sandra McPherson 08.08.10 / 2am

   Fascinating always to compare translations. Jane Riechhold (Basho: The Complete Haiku, Kodansha, 2008) has it, “this autumn / why getting older is like / a bird into clouds.” Her footnote has the primary English translation as, “this autumn as-for / why old getting / cloud into bird.” If one doesn’t know the language, at least some of us surely know “old-getting”! And the mixture of our bird-ness and our cloud-ness we know intimately. Darkness and heaviness are optional.
4. Jean Casey 08.08.10 / 3am

   Does this mean you are home? I’d much rather hear about that than ” the dark autumn of old age” which I are, and past! “Heaven’s to Betsy,” lets all pull up our socks and sing a song to sunrise. Every single one of them! Love……
5. Sandra McPherson 08.08.10 / 3am

   Another version, also beautiful (aren’t they all?!): “This autumn, why do I get old? In clouds a bird” That has a sort of title or intro, which says “Sentiment on a journey.” It’s translated by Hiroaki Sato and Burton Watson, in From the Country of Eight Islands (U of Washington Press, 1981).
6. Barbara Fitz Vroman 08.10.10 / 4am

   Interesting responses of the different translations.
   Even with the words unchanged, makes me realize
   how we each interpret every poem with variations from
   what someone else might take from it, and to know that our own written words settle differently upon different people. The world is endlessly complex and amazing.
7. Phil Hansotia 08.11.10 / 5pm

   I like the mood of this poem and drop comfortably in its lap. It touches my full head of hair when I started my journey and gently caresses my balding head now. I stare out the window of my life and relax as my engine slows down. Phil Hansotia.

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