Page:Anthology of Japanese Literature.pdf/382

378 “departing year” instead of “departing spring.” How does this criticism strike you?” Kyorai replied, “Shōhaku’s criticism completely misses the mark. What could be more natural than to regret the passing of the spring, when the waters of the Lake of Ōmi are veiled so enchantingly in mist? Besides, it is especially fitting in a poem written by one like yourself who is living by the lake.” The Master said, “Yes, the poets of old loved spring in this province almost as much as in Kyoto.” Kyorai, deeply struck by these words, continued, “If you were in Ōmi at the close of the year, why should you regret its passing? Or, if you were in Tamba at the end of spring, you would not be likely to have such feelings. What truth there is in the poetry of a man who has been genuinely stirred by some sight of nature!” The Master said, “Kyorai, you are a person with whom I can talk about poetry.” He was very pleased.

Bashō

One day when the Master was lying on his sickbed in Osaka, he called me to him and said, “This verse resembles one I composed not long ago at Sonome’s house:

I have therefore changed the ‘Clear cascades’ verse to:

The rough draft of the original version must be in Yamei’s house. Please destroy it.” But it was too late—the poem had already appeared in several collections.