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Loading... Senda hacia tierras hondas (Senda de Oku)by Matsuo Basho
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will love Sign up for LibraryThing to find out whether you'll like this book. 1   Banoo | Sep 10, 2009 |  Basho is a master and although this translation isn't wonderful, it is much better than the last translation I had. The preface of mine made me very aware of the spiritual element in much of Basho's poetry. What can I really say? Deep deep deep. (  ) funfunyay | Jul 30, 2009 | Oh, Basho is awesome. The Penguin translation? It is a favorite of mine (and then I made the mistake of lending it to Dad, and he won't give it back!) Particularly if you like stories about long-distance walking trips. booksofcolor | Jul 10, 2009 | A nice translation of this important work. Nice pocket format. (  ) signature103 | May 14, 2008 | This volume is helpful for including other travel sketches besides the often-translated Narrow Road ( ) antiquary | Jan 4, 2008 |  no reviews | add a review
Amazon.com Product Description (ISBN 0140441859, Paperback)In his perfectly crafted haiku poems, Basho described the natural world with great simplicity and delicacy of feeling. When he composed "The Narrow Road to the Deep North" he was a serious student of Zen Buddhism setting off on a series of travels designed to strip away the trappings of the material world and bring spiritual enlightenment. He wrote of the seasons changing, of the smell of the rain, the brightness of the moon and the beauty of the waterfall, through which he sensed the mysteries of the universe. These travel writings not only chronicle Basho's perilous journeys through Japan, but they also capture his vision of eternity in the transient world around him.(retrieved from Amazon Tue, 05 Jan 2010 14:49:13 -0500) The first test round has been closed. Visit the Open Shelves Classification group for details. |
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Wikipedia in English (2)
...it was a great pleasure to see the marvelous beauties of nature, rare scenes in the mountains or along the coast, or to visit the sites of temporary abodes of ancient sages where they had spent secluded lives, or better still, to meet people who had entirely devoted themselves to the search for artistic truth. Since I had nowhere permanent to stay, I had no interest whatever in keeping treasures, and since I was empty-handed, I had no fear of being robbed on the way. I walked at full ease, scorning the pleasure of riding in a palanquin, and filled my hungry stomach with coarse food, shunning the luxury of meat. I bent my steps in whatever direction I wished, having no itinerary to follow. My only mundane concerns were whether I would be able to find a suitable place to sleep at night and whether the straw sandals were the right size for my feet. Every turn of the road brought me new thoughts and every sunrise gave me fresh emotions. My joy was great when I encountered anyone with the slightest understanding of artistic elegance. Even those whom I had long hated for being antiquated and stubborn sometimes proved to be pleasant companions on my wandering journey. Indeed, one of the greatest pleasures of traveling was to find a genius hidden among weeds and bushes, a treasure lost in broken tiles, a mass of gold buried in clay, and when I did find such a person, I always kept a record with the hope that I might be able to show it to my friends.
To talk casually
About an iris flower
Is one of the pleasures
Of the wandering journey.
Regardless of weather,
The moon shines the same;
It is the drifting clouds
That make it seem different
On different nights. written by a priest
Autumn air whispers
A fallen leaf speaks gently
Basho is with us. Brian (