Translator’s Note

While translating, I tried to keep the simplicity of Bashō’s highly visual style focusing more on the flow rather than just the structure or rhythm. To achieve this, I sometimes rearranged lines or added small clarifying details so the scene would unfold naturally in English. For example, for Poem 28, the scene opens with quiet rocks, then shifts to the sound of cicadas, which breaks the quietness. A literal translation would read more like: “Silence– / into the rocks / penetrates the cicadas’ voices.” I also tried to keep the 5-7-5 syllable structure but didn’t strictly try to stick with that if it felt like a certain word conveyed the tone or image better. This structure is important for Japanese haiku because it sets the rhythm of on, which are sound units, but English syllables don’t match the Japanese sound units. The rhythm doesn’t translate the same way in English which is why I would prioritize clarity and tone. In Poem 61, I adjusted the world order slightly to clarify the movement of the shells and chose to use lespedeza instead of the more common term “bush clover” because I felt it has a softer, more poetic sound that best matched Bashō’s tone, helping to convey the subtle visual flow and gentle movement of the scene. In contrast, “bush clover” felt less delicate, which could have flattened the interplay between the clover and shells that Bashō evokes. In this way, the poem retains its delicate tone and visual flow.

Bashō’s poetry is unique because of its simplicity and strong visual imagery without relying on complex structure. In Poem 2, for instance, I kept the key images but added words, like “carries along” or “unspoken,” these adjustments are not meant to change Bashō’s imagery but to help English readers visualize the scene and experience its emotional tone. As someone with dyslexia, I connect most with writing I can see clearly in my mind, so I aimed to make each poem easy to picture and emotionally clear for English readers while leaving room for reflection and interpretation. Each of Bashō’s poems has a variety of challenges in representing his visual style and allowing me to see the poetry. For example, Poem 20 was arranged such that the reader visualizes the grass and the soldiers’ presences while leaving room for interpreting the meaning of personal dreams in the final line.

Some, like Poems 2 and 5, have much visual detail, so I only changed a few words to not only make it sound natural in English but also to capture the atmosphere. In Poem 5, instead of using the literal translation “to seclude into the waterfall” I played with the wording slightly so it would read more poetically in English. That’s why I used “in the waterfalls’ solace” to not only capture the physical retreat into nature, but also to imply withdrawing into a quiet, reflective space, similar to meditation. The most difficult poems to translate were those with very few visual details because, without the context of his diary, there is less for me to “see.” The Narrow Road to the Deep North includes both haiku and prose, so each haiku is a standalone poem within a larger literary piece. The diary gives context, but the individual haiku themselves sometimes offer only a brief image. Take Poem 50, for example, when read alone, it lacks context: “How cruel / crickets under / warrior’s helmet.” Although the poem doesn’t offer a clear setting, reading Poems 2 and 5 in concert helps to provide context. In Poem 2, birds and fish are crying, and in Poem 5, a waterfall framed by a summer day; both evoke the impermanence and futility of life. When read against the crickets underneath the helmet, life and death are juxtaposed, which might not have been captured if Poem 50 had been read singularly.

Individual kanji taken by themselves also lack context which is lost in a purely literal translation; a world like 風流 in Poem 12 has several meanings, such as “elegance,” “taste,” or “refinement.” The kanji 風 means “wind” and 流 means “flow,” but also has a connection with poetry. Because Bashō often ties nature and poetry together, I focused on the kanji’s individual meanings when translating it as “Wind blow in verse” and chose “verse” as a direct reference to poetry. I used this kind of alternative translation, selecting words that better conveyed the image or tone, when a literal translation felt confusing or too flat in English. Finally, I chose words that created a gentler image, such as “relieves itself” or “pretty woman.” Rather than Bashō’s more direct wording, “urine” or “prostitute.” This allows readers to experience the scene clearly without being startled or distracted by the blunt language, letting them focus on Bashō’s humor, daily life, and observations.