Furiuri no maki

Furiuri no maki – Street Hawker: A Round of Haikai

The first translation I will be presenting is a sequence composed in the 1693 by Bashō and his students Yaba, Ko’oku and Rigyū at his hermitage in Fukagawa along the Sumida River, now part of metropolitan Tokyo. It was published in the Bashō School anthology Sumidawara 炭俵 (Charcoal Sack) in 1694, the year of Bashō’s passing. To my knowledge this sequence has never been translated before.

   Godless Month, the 20th
            Impromptu at Fukagawa

the pathos
of a street hawker’s geese
Ebisu Festival                                                            Bashō [1]

drizzle at the eaves
   falling… letting up…                                           Yaba

the carpenter’s saw
stops
at a small knot                                                            Ko’oku

on the half-bald mountain
he views the moon                                                 Rigyū

he keeps a stash
of his favorite rice cakes…
the winds of autumn                                                  Yaba

a province with cheap firewood—
dew and frost                                                           Bashō

the net-fisher
calls out
to a friend’s boat                                                          Rigyū

can’t see a single star:
twenty-eighth night                                                Ko’oku

hunger, more than anything,
is the big thing
in war                                                                            Bashō

in the light snowfall
not even small talk                                               Yaba

the cage lantern
shining white:
he blows it out                                                              Ko’oku

at the bathhouse
he rubs a salve on his shoulder                            Rigyū

even while chopping
the dried herbs
she’s day-dreaming                                                    Yaba

a day off for the packhorse boy:
flirting with the servant girl                                  Bashō

the spool-collector
comes calling late,
close to dusk                                                                Rigyū

a low-ranking samurai,
but a tall fence, a big gate                                        Ko’oku

this island’s
ruffians pray as well…
moon and blossoms                                                      Bashō

sunshine warms the sands
the green grasses                                                     Yaba

manure sinks
into the snow
on the new field                                                           Ko’oku

sedge-hat blown off
chasing after it                                                           Rigyū

river-crosser:
the water up to his waist
worries him                                                                    Yaba [2]

a flatland temple,
its brush fence                                                            Bashō

the drying clothes
swayed over
into the sunshine                                                       Rigyū

before soaking the salted duck
she unties the wrapping                                          Ko’oku

their frugal ways
dictate their lives
those Kyoto dwellers                                                    Bashō

another girl is born,
but no one is told                                              Yaba

in the confusion
of the New Year’s Eve
merrymaking                                             Ko’oku

the illiterate man’s requested
letter is all backwards                                       Rigyū

on friendly terms,
the colleagues
help each other out                                        Yaba

a knock from next-door:
“You’re asleep? Tonight’s the full moon!”           Bashō

the wind dies down:
an autumn gull
makes its descent                                             Rigyū

at the carp pond
a man waits with his bird-clapper                      Ko’oku

they come back
in ts and threes
to the rice-loading dock                                   Bashō

Meguro pilgrimage –
the companion dawdles behind                           Yaba [3]

everything, everywhere
blossoming—middle
of the third month                                        Ko’oku

a spring wind sweeps away
the charcoal dust                                              Rigyū [4]

[1] Wild geese that had fallen ill were trapped and lead around on leashes to be sold in the marketplace. The Ebisu Fesival was held on the 20th day of the tenth lunar month, the “godless month” when all of the kami in Japan left their respective shrines to congregate at Izumo Shrine located in western Honshu. Ebisu is a kami (god) of wealth and commerce. The word translated as pathos here is aware.
[2] River-crosser – a man whose occupation is to carry people across rivers where there is no bridge or ferry.
[3] Meguro pilgrimage – a pilgrimage to the Ryūsen-ji Fudō Temple, usually taking place in the 1st, 5th, and 9th months.
[4] The type of charcoal named in this verse is used specifically in the tea ceremony.

The original text:

　　神無月廿日

　　　　ふか川にて即興

振賣の鴈あはれ也ゑびす講　　　　　　芭蕉

　降てはやすみ時雨する軒　　　　　　野坡

番匠が椴小節を引かねて　　　　　　　孤屋

　片はげ山に月をみるかな　　　　　　利牛

好物の餅を絶さぬあきの風　　　　　　野坡

　割木の安き國の露霜　　　　　　　　野坡

網の者近づき舟に聲かけて　　　　　　利牛

　星さへ見えず二十八日　　　　　　　孤屋

ひだるきは殊軍の大事也　　　　　　　芭蕉

　淡氣の雪に雑談もせぬ　　　　　　　野坡

明しらむ籠挑灯を吹消して　　　　　　孤屋

　肩癖にはる湯屋の膏藥　　　　　　　利牛

上をきの千葉刻むうはの空　　　　　　野坡

　馬に出ぬ日は内で恋する　　　　　　芭蕉

絈買の七つさがりを音づれて　　　　　利牛

　堺に門ある五十石取　　　　　　　　孤屋

此嶋の餓鬼も手を摺月と花　　　　　　芭蕉

　砂に暖のうつる青草　　　　　　　　野坡

新畠の糞もおちつく雪の上　　　　　　孤屋

　吹とられたる笠とりに行　　　　　　利牛

川越の帯しの水をあぶながり　　　　　野坡

　平地の寺のうすき藪垣　　　　　　　芭蕉

干物を日向の方へいざらせて　　　　　利牛

　塩出す鴨の苞ほどくなり　　　　　　孤屋

算用に浮世を立る京ずまひ　　　　　　芭蕉

　又沙汰なしにむすめ産　　　　　　　野坡

どたくたと大晦日も四つのかね　　　　孤屋

　無筆のこのむ状の跡さき　　　　　　利牛

中よくて傍輩合の借りいらゐ　　　　　野坡

　壁をたゝきて寐せぬ夕月　　　　　　芭蕉

風やみて秋の鴎の尻さがり　　　　　　利牛

　鯉の鳴子の綱をひかゆる　　　　　　孤屋

ちらほらと米の揚場の行戻り　　　　　芭蕉

　日黑まいりのつれのねちみやく　　　野坡

どこもかも花の三月中時分　　　　　　孤屋

　輪炭のちりをはらふ春風　　　　　　利牛

All translations �2007 Sean Price [email protected]