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“Basho shows an appreciation for women far beyond what we have been led to expect from a Japanese man of this era” said Bronagh, my research assistant from Ireland.
Historian Louis Perez expresses the standard view that in Japan, “the literary elite (which certainly includes Basho) scarcely alluded to commoner women at all, and if they did it was mainly in a pejorative sense” – yet Basho wrote hundreds of poems – a few haiku but many. many renku – praising women, I believe the earliest and most numerous, diverse, and insightful praise in world literature.
For this article I have chosen 24 Basho poems – seven haiku, 15 single stanzas of renku by Basho, and two stanza-pairs in which Basho wrote both in succession -- all of these to validate Bronagh’s insight rather than the standard view. Here are no stanzas by any poet other than Basho; I have sought single stanzas which suffice by themselves, without the adjoining stanzas in the renku sequence, and also without the more extensive commentaries I have provided elsewhere in the category Praise for Women. Also I have provided links which you can click on for a fuller discussion of a verse or its theme.
May these brief sketches empower women and girls worldwide, as well as deepen men’s appreciation for the power and integrity of women throughout time. To change Basho’s reputation away from “impersonal nature poet” to “poet empowering women” makes him part of the Resistance working for a humane POTUS and Senate.
A women makes herself beautiful before giving birth to the child she loves.
The "endless desire and inbuilt passion for visionary women to express their passion for pageantry."
As Gregor Mendel studied peas to discover the nature of inheritance, Basho studies the human face, and is fascinated by descent through the female line.
Lying in bed beside him and maneuvering her hand and arm into the space beneath his neck, watching his face for any signs of awakening, she epitomizes the gentle, caring nature of woman’s love.
Basho wrote the following haiku at Hase Temple, a famous place of pilgrimage for women to pray to Kannon, the Goddess of Mercy:
Over there, in a corner, someone barely seen in faint lantern light sits in communion with the Goddess. Who is she? Why has she come here alone at night? What is she praying for? By making a poem about the hidden woman, Basho eulogizes her; she becomes eternal.
As the bright full moon passes over Lake Biwa from eastern mountains to western mountains,
each position of moon gives a different scene. Basho imagines the succession of scenes as seven stages in a woman’s life: for many women these are infancy, school girl, lover, mother, elder, crone, and second infancy. We join with him in conceiving the life of a woman as divine.
Her husband wakes up the town, but Basho has eyes only for the wife, getting up in the freezing winter dawn to, like a goddess, wake up the hearth fire with her breath. She may be blowing directly onto the coals, or through a bamboo tube. Throughout the ages in every land before gas, electricity, timers, sensors, remote and automatic controls, women have gotten up early to awaken the fire as the wife does here. She is eternal, a goddess of fire, proclaimed by bells.
The grief of Rika for his wife:
被き伏す / 蒲団や寒き / 夜やすごき
The alliteration of ‘h’ sounds contains the feeling of huddling, lying curled up on one side, holding in the warmth around the chest and abdomen. Getting between the quilts, shivering till my old blood warms the space so I can sleep. All alone where she used to lie nearby. The nights long and bitter, and sun brings no warmth till late morning. Basho captures the experience of anyone who has lost a spouse in winter.
A teenage girl: “the turmoil of young love takes away all my appetite, but mother insists I eat, to build up my body.Why can’t she understand that I cannot eat while this turmoil rages within me? Mother, stop bugging me!” The “generation gap” in Japan 300 years ago. Daughter thinks about love while mother about nutrition, so no meeting of minds. May this help each see the other point of view
She borrows a padded haori coat from a man and puts it on over her kimono, adding some bulk to her chest, shoulders, and arms, making her look manly. At a working class party are no samurai and no swords, but she pretends with something long and thin. She inserts it under her obi, the thick brocade sash around her waist. Then she does the ever-popular “Hey you guys! See how long my sword is” sending the party into hysterics. Woman having fun.
飯あふぐ / 嬶が馳走や / 夕涼み
The peasant returns from working in the summer fields, Watching his “beloved wife” (aisai) “bestow her heart” (kokoro tsukai) on the food, he enjoys the evening cool and waits for the food.” Basho scholar Kon Eizo recognizes the psychic energy, the love, the old woman bestows on the food as she waves her fan over it. The scholar reveals that this is a love poem, not the love of young people at the beginning of their search, but the love of an old couple near the end.
This is both the long slender hanging branches of a willow tree in spring and the hair of a women swaying side to side as she walks. Long Black Hair
Recovering from illness, running the comb down her long black locks, she feels health returning to her body.
This is Basho’s Mona Lisa, his most graceful hidden woman. With delicacy and precision he highlights a single moment in the flow of a working woman’s life. She is the Center.
Finishing an piece of fabric she has woven on a loom, she folds it neatly, then goes to the door between kitchen and outdoors to light some incense and make the kitchen fragrant.
Pounding cloth to soften it, to produce a sound that reaches the Seven Stars, the heart of the woman at work must be exceedingly clear.
She provides to the next generation light and a tool to make slender arms and hands more powerful.
The baby is a memento of her husband who has died. The two kinds of sleep – nocturnal and eternal – blend in Basho’s stanza. Putting the child down, she wonders if in sleep baby will travel to that other world to be with father.
Each year in this season she comes here to climb the hill of her grief.
The bond between mother or nurse and baby breaks when one of them dies. The spirit parts from the body as the colorful kite leaves earth.
Who is this “sister” and what are the circumstances of this “marriage”?
Basho’s few words lead us to explore the oppression of women.
A compassionate and understanding mother manages to say the right words in the right tone to calm down her daughter.
Women harmonize with a leader so their sound goes far. Basho encourages women to empower themselves through solidarity with other women.
A woman dying of tuberculosis looks at the doll she played with long ago and remembers her healthy youth. Or a mother whose daughter lingers on with the disease recalls her childhood. Or perhaps the daughter has died, but memories linger on of that horrible hacking cough.
This young peasant woman emerges from the fertile paddy to nourish her child from her breasts. Her entire body is soiled with mud, but still she tries to keep her face clean, for baby to behold. As the tiny mouth sucks her nipple, she gazes at the eyes and forehead to see the dreams within.
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The Three Thirds of Basho