[For Seniors] June Haiku Showcase: Ideas to Feel Summer

How splendid—the sunlight on fresh green leaves

Matsuo Bashō was active in the early Edo period and is one of Japan’s greatest haikai poets, known worldwide in later generations as the “saint of haiku.” This verse was composed in The Narrow Road to the Deep North, expressing the brilliance of sunlight and the beauty of young leaves that glow a vivid green as they receive that light, as well as their shimmering radiance.

The word “atarafuto” conveys the meaning of “precious” or “sacred.” While traveling, Bashō may have used this expression after feeling the beauty of the season of budding greenery he saw in Nikkō, the powerful light of the sun that illuminated it, and the grandeur and vitality of nature.

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In the early-summer rain, before the great river, two houses.

Yosa Buson was a haiku poet and literati painter active in the mid-Edo period.

It is said that he held deep admiration and respect for Matsuo Basho and traveled through the Tohoku and Kanto regions to actually retrace the journey of The Narrow Road to the Deep North.

The meaning of this verse is that the long May rains continue to fall, the river swells with force, and the greatly enlarged river rushes along violently.

By the riverbank stand two small houses, nestled close together.

It seems to impress upon us that, in the face of the intensifying fury of nature, even a house feels helpless and forlorn.

There are also famous haiku by Matsuo Basho that use samidare—the early-summer rains—as a seasonal word, so it can be enjoyable to compare them.

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So delightful, and yet in the end so sad—such is the cormorant-fishing boat.

Ukai is a traditional fishing method that uses cormorants to catch river fish such as sweetfish (ayu).

The sight of torchlight illuminating the boats floating in the dark night is strikingly picturesque.

It is said that Bashō composed this haiku after witnessing ukai on the Nagara River in Gifu Prefecture.

Rendered in a modern way, the poem means: “Watching ukai is deeply engaging and evocative, yet afterward a sadness wells up.” It is a celebrated haiku that captures, in just sixteen characters, a shift in feeling from being moved to becoming wistful—the loneliness when something so captivating ends, and the pathos of the cormorants ceaselessly catching fish at their master’s command.

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Do they gather, or do they scatter—fireflies over the river?

Natsume Soseki is a novelist famous for works such as I Am a Cat and one of the great masters of modern Japanese literature.

Deeply influenced by Masaoka Shiki, whom he met during his university years, Soseki studied haiku.

In this poem, expressions like “katamaru ya” (“they cluster”) and “chiru ya” (“they scatter”) evoke fireflies that seem to gather into a single mass of light, only to burst apart in the next moment.

This fleeting, delicate beauty unfolds over a night river, capturing a single instant on a summer night—a poem that superbly renders nature in words.

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Early-summer rain—how fearsome this nameless river.

Yosa Buson was active in the mid-Edo period as a haiku poet and literati painter.

Rendered into contemporary language, this verse conveys something like: “In the downpour of the rainy season, a small river so insignificant it might not even be named on a map is roaring with a terrifying volume of water.” It expresses how a river that is usually calm becomes swollen by heavy rain and turns into a frightening presence that raises fears of flooding and other disasters.

The poem reminds us of the terrifying power of nature—how something we might have scorned as trivial can swell to the point of threatening our very existence—and of the smallness and powerlessness of humans who stand before it.

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Gathering the early-summer rains, the Mogami River runs swift.

Matsuo Basho was a haikai poet who was active in the early Edo period.

At the age of 46, as known from The Narrow Road to the Deep North, he traveled from the Tohoku region through Hokuriku to around present-day Gifu Prefecture, composing poems that captured his feelings and the landscapes he encountered.

This verse describes the Mogami River, which flows through what is now Yamagata Prefecture and is considered one of Japan’s three fastest-flowing rivers.

It conveys how, due to continuous rains in May, water poured into the Mogami River, making its current extremely swift and turbulent.

One can almost see the natural scenery shifting with the seasons.

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Leaving some rain still to fall—Hikaridō

It is a verse from The Narrow Road to the Deep North, said to have been composed when Bashō visited the Konjikidō (Golden Hall) at Chūson-ji during his travels in the Tōhoku region.

Samidare refers to what we now call the rainy season.

Although we think of the rainy season as occurring in June, in the old lunar calendar it corresponds to the fifth month, which is why it bears that name.

Rain can be a blessing, but it also brings floods, disrupts transportation, and causes things to rot or mold from the humidity.

In this poem, despite the long, unending rain, the Golden Hall alone shines as if no rain were falling.

Today, the Konjikidō at Chūson-ji is registered as a World Heritage site.

Visiting during the rainy season and sharing in Bashō’s feelings would be a delightful experience.

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