Basho, Matsuo

English

University of Montana

CutBank Volume 1 Issue 14 CutBank 14 Article 41 Spring 1980 The Summer Moon translated by Etsuko Terasaki Matsuo Basho Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.umt.edu/cutbank  Part of the Creative Writing Commons Let us know how access to this document benefits you. Recommended Citation Basho, Matsuo (1980) "The Summer Moon translated by Etsuko Terasaki," CutBank: Vol. 1 : Iss. 14 , Article 41. Available at: https://scholarworks.umt.edu/cutbank/vol1/iss14/41 This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by ScholarWorks at University of Montana. It has been accepted for inclusion in CutBank by an authorized editor of ScholarWorks at University of Montana. For more information, please contact scholarworks@mso.umt.edu. BashoTHE SUMMER MOONThroughout the town: smells of things and the summer moon.“I t’s hot! So hot!”Voices from the open gates.With the second weeding not yet done,already the ripening grain.Scraping ashesfrom a broiled dried fish.Hereabouts, a silver coin is unknown.What a bother!The sword he carries is long indeed.Startled by a frog leaping from the thicket. Ah! The shadows of dusk.Off picking butterbur, a lantern goes out.BonchoBashoKyoraiBonchoBashoKyoraiBonchoBasho91BashoOn the thresholdof the priesthood,like a flower barely budding.KyoraiNanao in the Noto winter: life is less than easy.BonchoGnawing fish to the bone: He is so old in years.BashoHe lets his lady’s lover in, using the side door key.KyoraiLeaning against the screen, they pushed it over: the chambermaids.BonchoA bamboo-slatted bath floor.How forlorn it seems!BashoFennel seeds all blown away.The evening windstorm.KyoraiLooking chilly — the lone priest, perhaps returning to the temple.BonchoA monkey showman and his monkey-man’s life.The autumn moon.Basho92BashoFiguring up the land tax: a quart and a half per year.Five or six pieces of raw brushwood, stretching across the puddle.KyoraiBonchoFine white socks, soiled by the muddy path.BashoThe paceof his master’s steed makes the sword-bearer run.An apprentice,spilling the water he bears.KyoraiBonchoDoors and paper-paneled screens covered in matting: the estate for sale.Ah, the pepper pods. When did they turn red?A nightof almost furtive sandal making in the moonlight.BashoKyoraiBonchoWaking to brush off the fleas; early autumn.Basho93BashoEmpty as ever, the mouse box-trap  fallen to the floor.KyoraiThe warped lid w o n ’t fit the old coffer.BonchoA short time spent in the hut.Give it up; move on.BashoW orth  the lifetime; news of my poem in the Imperial Collection.KyoraiLike trying out different sizes and styles: a ttem pts at love.BonchoAt the end of the F loating World, each of us like Komachi.BashoW h a t’s it th a t ’s wrong?Even while eating the gruel your eyes fill with tears.KyoraiThe m aste r’s not at home: spacious wooden floors.BonchoLet the spring lice crawl in your palm, in the shade of flowers.Basho94Unmoving mists. Such a drowsy day!BashoKyoraitranslated by Etsuko Terasaki95

The Summer Moon translated by Etsuko Terasaki

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The Summer Moon translated by Etsuko Terasaki

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