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秋深き隣は何をする人ぞ aki fukaki tonari wa nani o suru hito zo Bashō - Deep autumn: what does my neighbor do?

Bashō's verse sent ahead to an Osaka gathering, 1694: its two forms, the story of his absence, and its life as a saying about cities.

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Japanese Scroll of Bashō - Deep autumn: what does my neighbor do? (aki fukaki tonari wa nani o suru hito zo) — Calligraphy by Eri Takase
Bashō - Deep autumn: what does my neighbor do?秋深き隣は何をする人ぞaki fukaki tonari wa nani o suru hito zo

Original art by Master Calligrapher Eri Takase

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Abstract

秋深き隣は何をする人ぞ, in which the poet asks, as autumn deepens, what the person next door does, is a verse of Matsuo Bashō 松尾芭蕉, made in Osaka on the twenty-eighth of the ninth month of 1694 and sent from one gathering to the host of another, set for the next night, the last night of autumn that year by the months; that night the illness that killed him began, and he died two weeks later [1][2]. Every witness read from the first decades writes the opening 秋深き, autumn deepening, in characters or in kana; the form many readers know, 秋深し, autumn has deepened, is first known in an anthology of 1738 that every modern edition calls in error, and comes back in essays from 1914 [3][4][5]. The story that he was too ill to go and sent the verse instead is not in the first account but in a forged diary of 1810, and is in English by 1932; the saying about city neighbors who never know one another begins in 1925, with a writer who set it against the verse [6][7][8]. I read the verse as a guest's greeting sent ahead to the next night's gathering, turned on a neighbor he could hear and could not see.

Overview

The text. The verse as brushed here opens 秋深き, aki fukaki. That is the form of its first known print, Kagami Shikō 各務支考's 『笈日記』 Oi nikki of 1695, and of every witness read for this history down to 1774, whether in characters or in kana (秋ふかき) [1][9][10][11]. The other form, 秋深し or 秋ふかし, aki fukashi, is first known from 『六行会』 Rokugyōkai, an anthology of 1738, and every modern edition read for this history calls it a mistake [3][4][5][12]. The two differ in one syllable and in grammar, and the difference is taken up under The words.

The sense. 秋深し is a season word for late autumn: 精選版 日本国語大辞典 defines it 秋も半ばを過ぎてたけなわである。《季語・秋》, autumn is past its middle and at its height; a season word for autumn, and gives this verse, in the form 秋深き and from 『笈日記』, as its second example [13]. 隣, tonari, is the house next door: the same dictionary's second sense is 並び続いているすぐ両横の家。隣家。, the houses immediately on either side, of a row; the house next door, and its example after the 万葉集 is again this verse [14]. 何をする人ぞ, what does the person do?, is a plain question, ending in the emphatic ぞ; it can ask what someone is doing now, or what he does for a living, and the English renderings below divide on exactly that. So the line says: autumn deep, and next door, what does that person do?

The words. 秋深き is the attributive form of the adjective, the form that modifies a following noun, and taken strictly it would make the next door of deep autumn. The scholar Yamamoto Yuiitsu 山本唯一, in 1966, explains why nobody reads it that way: この「秋ふかき」は、実はそこで いったん休止して、つぎに「隣は何を」と続いてゆく。すなわちこの「秋ふかき」は、連体形で、その下の隣を修飾しているが、そのつながりは弱く、むしろ連用形の中止法に似て、そこで切れている。「秋ふかき、隣は何をする人ぞ」となるのである, this 秋ふかき in fact pauses there once and then goes on to 隣は何を; it is attributive and modifies 隣 below it, but the link is weak, and it is closer to the suspended continuative: it breaks there. It becomes 「秋ふかき、隣は何をする人ぞ」 [5]. 秋深し, the predicative form, makes that pause a full stop. So the later form is the reading of the early one written out: it does nothing a reader of 秋深き does not already hear, and it closes the link the attributive keeps.

The text in English. The earliest English known, among the archive's full text by romaji and the house's shelf, is of 1932, and the verse has been rendered at least a dozen times since, read for this history from Asatarō Miyamori to Andrew Fitzsimons [7][15]. The renderings divide on the question: what sort of people (Miyamori), how does he live (R. H. Blyth, Robert Hass), what does he do for a living (Donald Keene, Makoto Ueda), what does he do (David Landis Barnhill, Fitzsimons). They divide also on the story they tell with it, and that is taken up below.

The historical record

1694. The occasion. Bashō reached Osaka on the ninth of the ninth month of 1694. In a letter to his elder brother dated the twenty-third, as Ishigami Satoshi 石上敏 quotes it, he wrote that from the evening of the tenth chills, fever and headache had come every night, and that they had stopped: 大坂へ参候て、十日の晩よりふるひ付申、毎晩七つ時より夜五つまで、さむけ、熱、頭痛参候て、もしは、おこりに成可申かと薬給候へば、二十日頃よりすきとやみ申候, after I came to Osaka, from the evening of the tenth I took the shakes, and every night from about four in the afternoon till about eight, chills, fever and headache came on; I took medicine for fear it would turn to malaria, and from about the twentieth it stopped altogether [2]. Ishigami's table has him at gatherings on the fourteenth and the nineteenth, while the fevers still came, and again from the twenty-first [2]. The same day as the letter to his brother he wrote to Isen and Dohō that he was not yet himself, いまだ気分も勝れず [2]. Shikō, who was with him, sets down the night of the twenty-eighth in 『笈日記』, under the heading 畦止亭, at Keishi 畦止's house. It is quoted here as the typeset of 1926 gives it; the first print, read at the leaf with the typeset as key, has the same words, and marks no voicing and writes ハ (芝柏か方, 侍れハ, しるさす) [1]:

今宵は九月廿八日の夜なれば、秋の名殘をおしむとて、七種の戀を結題にしておの〳〵ほつ句あり。是は泥足が其便集に出し侍れば、爰にしるさず。明日の夜は芝柏が方にまねきおもふよしにて、ほつ句つかはし申されし。

Tonight being the night of the twenty-eighth of the ninth month, we grieved for autumn's last days, set seven kinds of love as joined topics, and each made a hokku. These are printed in Deisoku 泥足's collection 其便, so I do not write them here. Shihaku 芝柏 had in mind to invite him to his house the next night, and so he sent a hokku. Then the verse, 秋深き隣ハ何をする人そ, signed 翁, the old master; then the heading 廿九日, the twenty-ninth, and 此夜より泄痢のいたはりありて、神無月一日の朝にいたる, from this night he suffered from diarrhea, until the morning of the first of the tenth month [1]. So the verse was made on the twenty-eighth, at one gathering, for the host of the next night's, whom Makoto Ueda and Fitzsimons name Negoro Shihaku, Ueda with the dates ?–1713 [16][15]. 『其便』 Sono tayori, the collection Shikō points to, prints the verses of that evening at Keishi's, with Bashō's 月澄や狐こはがる児の供, but not this one [17]. The ninth month of that year was a short one, and Ishigami notes that its twenty-ninth was the last day of autumn by the months: 秋の最後の一日に向けて詠んだ句, a verse made toward the last day of autumn [2]. By the twenty-four solar terms, he adds, autumn had ended on the nineteenth, and winter began on the twentieth [2]. Shikō does not say whether Bashō meant to go. The illness he names began on the night of the gathering, and Bashō died on the twelfth of the tenth month [1][2].

The witnesses. From the witnesses read for this history, in order:

The editions add a fourth early witness, the manuscript 『蕉翁句集』 of Bashō's townsman Dohō 土芳, and give it 秋深き [3][4].

The Edo commentary. Ishiko Sekisui 石河積翠 (1738–1803), in 『芭蕉句選年考』, heads the verse with 陸奥鵆's headnote, in his own characters 大坂芝栢興行, quotes Shikō's paragraph under 笈日記に曰く, the Oi nikki says, with variants in its wording, and adds one line: 或行脚の僧云、芝栢亭は人家立込みたる所にて此吟有りけるとなり, a wandering monk says that Shihaku's house stood where the houses were packed close, and that the verse was made there [18][19]. It is the earliest reading known, among the commentaries read here, that sets the neighbor in a crowded town.

1810. The forged diary. Bungyō 文暁, a priest of Higo, published in 1810 what he presented as the bedside notes of the disciples (the year is 勝峯's, 文化七年板; 志田 gives its printing as 文化八年, 1811); reprinted as 『花屋日記』 Hanaya nikki, it was taken for the record of Bashō's last days until Japanese scholarship set it aside as a forgery in the 1920s and 1930s [20][21]. Its entry for the twenty-ninth, following one signed by Bashō's disciple Izen 惟然, reads, in the typeset of 1902: 廿九日　芝柏亭に一集すへき約諾なりしが數日打續きて重食し給し故か勞りありて出席なし發句おくらる, the twenty-ninth: it had been promised that he would join a gathering at Shihaku's house, but perhaps because he had been eating heavily for several days on end he was unwell and did not attend; the hokku was sent; then 秋ふかき隣はなにをする人ぞ, and 此夜より翁腹痛の氣味にて泄瀉四五行なり, from this night the master had pains in the belly and loose bowels four or five times [6]. The forgery moves the verse to the twenty-ninth, gives the illness as its reason, and has him absent in its place. That sentence was in popular print by 1898 and stayed there: a life of Bashō of that year carries it, and a trade magazine of 1923 still does, in nearly the same words [22][23].

1914. The other form, in print. The form 秋深し comes back in the essays of the twentieth century. Susukida Kyūkin 薄田泣菫, in an essay on a café in 『象牙の塔』 of 1914: 芭蕉は『秋深し隣は何をする人ぞ』と歌つたが、芭蕉のやうな自我主義者でさへ、時々は隣りを氣にしたものだ, Bashō sang 秋深し隣は何をする人ぞ, but even an egoist like Bashō thought now and then about the house next door; reprinting the essay in 1926, he made the egoist 孤獨主義者, a solitary [24]. Miyamori, in 1932, notes the spread: Fukaki is spelt fukashi in most books but the former spelling is right [7]. The haikai editions keep 秋深き.

How it has been read. The readings, in order:

Today the saying stands in the encyclopedias apart from the poem: the 改訂新版 世界大百科事典, in its entry on the neighbor, ends そして〈隣は何をする人ぞ〉という表現が，都市の冷たい社会関係を示すことになる, and so the expression 〈隣は何をする人ぞ〉 comes to show the cold social relations of the city [14].

What is not a source. No earlier poem is known behind the verse, and none has been proposed in the commentaries read here. R. H. Blyth set beside it, as a parallel, a verse of Buson's on the neighbor's fulling-block not heard for two days, この二日きぬた聞えぬ隣かな; it is a later poem, not a source [30].

The verse in English

1932. Asatarō Miyamori. An Anthology of Haiku Ancient and Modern, no. 93, titled Autumn is Advanced over the characters 秋深し, with the verse itself in the form 秋深き: The autumn is advanced. / What sort of people can my neighbours be? His note brings the forgery's story into English: This verse was sent to a haiku party held at the residence of an Ōsaka pupil, which Bashō was unable to attend, lying in bed with a serious illness to which he succumbed a fortnight later [7]. In 『笈日記』 the verse is sent the day before the illness began.

1942 to 1952. R. H. Blyth. In Zen in English Literature and Oriental Classics, 1942: It is deep autumn / What kind of life / Is my neighbour's, I wonder?, and then, which means, what is God doing next door? [31]. In Haiku, vol. 1, 1949, three times: after Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, as the question the same spirit asks, It is deep autumn: / My neighbour— / How does he live, I wonder?; as his example of sabi, In this verse, self is entirely gone; and set against Buson, as a verse in which voiceless things speak [32]. In Haiku, vol. 3, 1952: Deep autumn; / My neighbour,— / How does he live?, with Bashō is lying in bed ill, death not far away. … the thought of his neighbour comes with a sudden clutch of the heart, … and the walls of Jericho between mind and mind are about to fall [30]. The sickbed is Miyamori's setting.

1958. Harold G. Henderson. An Introduction to Haiku, under his own title The Autumn of Life: Nearing autumn's close, / my neighbor, now—what is it / that he does? [33].

1970. Makoto Ueda. Matsuo Bashō: Autumn deepens— / The man next door, what / Does he do for a living?, read as estrangement: Again Bashō laments the isolation of the individual. Even next door neighbors do not know each other; their lives are completely separate [34]. It is the earliest English reading known, among the books read here, of the verse as estrangement between neighbors, forty-five years after Murobuse, with no city named and without his contrast.

1973. Daniel C. Buchanan. One Hundred Famous Haiku: It is late autumn / I wonder what my neighbors / Will be doing now, with the neighbors as farmers whose harvest is in [35].

1976. Donald Keene. World Within Walls: He was expected to attend another party on the twenty-ninth, and on the previous night prepared a hokku to deliver on this occasion: … Autumn has deepened: / I wonder what the man next door / Does for a living?, and A sudden worsening of his illness on the twenty-ninth made it impossible for him to attend the gathering [36]. Of the English books read here, Keene alone keeps 『笈日記』's order: the verse first, the illness after.

1992. Makoto Ueda. Bashō and His Interpreters: autumn deepens— / the man next door, what does he do / for a living?, with the note because he had not been feeling well he declined the invitation and had this hokku sent to the host [16]. That is the forgery's order.

1994. Robert Hass. The Essential Haiku: Deep autumn— / my neighbor, / how does he live, I wonder?, a verse, his introduction says, that has Bashō's poignant calm and spiritual restlessness [37].

1998. Haruo Shirane. Traces of Dreams: According to Backpack Diary, which preserves this hokku, Bashō was invited to a poetry session but, thwarted by his illness, sent the following poem. / autumn deepening— / my neighbor / how does he live, I wonder? [38]. Backpack Diary is 『笈日記』, and it does not say that he was thwarted: it has the verse sent on the twenty-eighth and the illness begin on the twenty-ninth [1]. Shirane's reading holds four senses together, the isolation of the individual, the traveler seeking company, the loneliness of those who live together and yet apart in urban society, and the loneliness of life itself, and he hears in the verse classical diction, aki fukaki, meeting the speech of the street, tonari wa nani o suru hito zo [38].

2004 to 2022. David Landis Barnhill, 2004: deepening autumn: / the man next door, / what does he do?, with This hokku was sent to the host of a poetry gathering, Negoro Shihaku (d. 1713), when illness prevented Bashō from attending [39]. Stephen Wolfe, in 2007, set thirteen English renderings side by side and divided the readings into a Zen camp and a camp of coming in from the wabi/sabi cold [40]. Robert Aitken, 2011: As autumn deepens / I wonder about our neighbor; / what does he do?, with Bashō was in the throes of his last illness and sent this verse to a poetry-writing party he could not attend, and the verse read through Dōgen as the self forgotten in the neighbor [41]. Andrew Fitzsimons, 2022: Autumn deepening / The man next door I wonder / what is it he does?, with Bashō was too ill to attend a gathering at the house of Negoro Shihaku (1643–1713) on November 16, and had this hokku sent to the host [15].

Today. The work order's English is Deep autumn: what does my neighbor do?, the house's own. A rendering should keep the order of the Japanese, autumn first and the question after it, and should leave open what the question asks, which the Japanese does: 何をする人ぞ is both what is he doing and what does he do. The story told with the verse in English since 1932, of a sick man who could not go and sent it instead, is not in its first witness.

A reading

The text first. 秋深き is the form of every early witness read, the first print and the leaves of 1697, 1698 and 1774 among them [1][9][10][11]. 秋深し has an Edo witness, a collection of 1738 that sends the verse to a certain person and forgets the gathering, and a modern one in the essays from 1914 [3][24]. It is not a corruption to be scolded; it writes out the pause that Yamamoto Yuiitsu hears in 秋深き [5]. But the verse Bashō sent is 秋深き, and the scroll takes it.

The occasion next. In Shikō's account Bashō was out among his friends on the twenty-eighth, eighteen days after the fevers that met him in Osaka began and a week after they stopped, and he sent this verse ahead to the next night's host, as a guest of honor would [1][2]. Shikō does not say he would not go. The illness that killed him began the next night [1]. The story that he was too ill and sent the verse in his place belongs to the 1810 forgery, which moved it to the twenty-ninth and invented its cause; it reached English with Miyamori in 1932, and six of the English books read have carried it (Miyamori, Ueda 1992, Shirane, Barnhill, Aitken and Fitzsimons), one of them under Shikō's name [6][7][38]. I take Shikō's order: the verse was written by a man who expected to be there.

The reading last. The commentators have heard a sick man reaching for company, a man afraid of death, the artist above his neighbor's trade, warmth, envy, relief at a sound through the wall, and since 1925 the city where no one knows the people next door [16][5][8][27]. Murobuse, who first made it the city's verse, knew he was turning it inside out: Bashō's not-knowing was the recluse's, the city man's is suspicion [8]. I read the verse as Ishigami does, as a greeting, though he takes Bashō to be the absent guest [2]. It is sent to a house full of people on the eve of the last night of autumn by the months, and it asks after the one person in it the poet cannot see, the person next door, who is doing something, as everyone is, behind a wall. The deep autumn is the season and the poet's year, and the question is as warm as it is lonely. That the verse can carry the city's coldness three centuries later is true of it, and was not its first sense. Signed, 典.

Notes

The forms of the verse. Point by point, against the witnesses read for this history:

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Japanese Scrolls by Master Calligrapher Eri Takase

Japanese Scroll of Bashō - Deep autumn: what does my neighbor do? (aki fukaki tonari wa nani o suru hito zo) in a block font by Master Japanese Calligrapher Eri Takase
秋深きVB5JBlock
Japanese Scroll of Bashō - Deep autumn: what does my neighbor do? (aki fukaki tonari wa nani o suru hito zo) in a cursive font by Master Japanese Calligrapher Eri Takase
秋深きVC5JCursive
Japanese Scroll of Bashō - Deep autumn: what does my neighbor do? (aki fukaki tonari wa nani o suru hito zo) in Master Japanese Calligrapher Eri Takase's own style (Eri's Choice)
秋深きVD5JEri's Choice
Japanese Scroll of Bashō - Deep autumn: what does my neighbor do? (aki fukaki tonari wa nani o suru hito zo) in a semi-cursive font by Master Japanese Calligrapher Eri Takase
秋深きVS5JSemi-Cursive

Sources not seen

『六行会』 (浅生庵野坡 等 編, 元文3, 1738), three volumes, in the 天理図書館 綿屋文庫, its only known copy, not imaged. It would show the 秋ふかし form and its headnote ある人に対し at a leaf, rather than through the editions.

室伏高信, 『日本論』 (1925), at the National Diet Library, whose text is shown outside Japan only as search snippets. It would show the paragraph that ends with the verse from its beginning.

東海呑吐, 『芭蕉句解』 (明和6, 1769, its preface), two copies listed by the 国書データベース, neither imaged. It would show in its own words the earliest commentary Ueda reports.

A reader with access to any of these is invited to write to Takase Studios at Tim@Takase.com.

References

  1. 各務支考, 『笈日記』, 井筒屋庄兵衛, Kyoto, 1695, the 難波 section, under 畦止亭; Kyoto University Library 谷村文庫 copy, canvas 23, at the 国書データベース, https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/biblio/100425650/23; typeset in 小沢武二 編, 春陽堂, 1926, scan 18, at the National Diet Library, https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1019575/1/18
  2. 石上敏, 「「旅に病て夢は枯野をかけ廻る」考」, 『日本文学』 70-4, 2021, pp. 19–29, Bashō's last days on p. 19, the timeline on p. 21 and the verse on pp. 22–24, at J-STAGE. https://doi.org/10.20620/nihonbungaku.70.4_19
  3. 『定本芭蕉大成』, 三省堂, 1962, no. 970, search index 69, snippet view, National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1346512
  4. 阿部正美, 『芭蕉伝記考説』, 1961, search index 518, and on 『追善之日記』 search index 487, snippet view, National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1346102
  5. 山本唯一, 『芭蕉俳句ノート』, 1966, search index 106–107, snippet view, National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1347837
  6. 『芭蕉翁花屋日記』, 晩鐘会, 1902, pp. 3–4, scans 6–7, at the National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/875665/1/6
  7. Asatarō Miyamori, An Anthology of Haiku Ancient and Modern, Maruzen, 1932, no. 93, pp. 196–197, read on the house's shelf.
  8. 室伏高信, 『日本論』, 1925, the table of contents at search index 5 and the passage at search index 33–34, snippet view, National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1018578
  9. 桃隣 編, 『陸奥鵆』, 元禄10 (1697), the 京都府立京都学・歴彩館 copy, volume 1, canvas 23, at the 国書データベース; typeset in 『日本俳書大系』, 1926, search index 174, snippet view, National Diet Library. https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/biblio/300053718/23 · https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1883701
  10. 風国 編, 『泊船集』, 井筒屋庄兵衛, Kyoto, 元禄11 (1698), canvas 94, at the 国書データベース, https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/biblio/100012993/94; typeset 1909, scan 63, at the National Diet Library, https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/875664/1/63
  11. 蝶夢 編, 『芭蕉翁発句集』, 安永3 (1774), scan 81, at the National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/2540314/1/81
  12. 『古典日本文学全集』, 筑摩書房, 1960, search index 166, snippet view, National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1661329
  13. 「秋深し」, 精選版 日本国語大辞典, at kotobank. https://kotobank.jp/word/秋深し-194932
  14. 「隣」, 精選版 日本国語大辞典 and 改訂新版 世界大百科事典 (福田アジオ), at kotobank. https://kotobank.jp/word/隣-584300
  15. Andrew Fitzsimons, Bashō: The Complete Haiku, University of California Press, 2022, no. 921, p. 341, read on the house's shelf.
  16. Makoto Ueda, Bashō and His Interpreters: Selected Hokku with Commentary, Stanford University Press, 1992, pp. 411–412, and its list of commentators, pp. 418 (Donto) and 425 (Yamamoto), read on the house's shelf.
  17. 泥足 編, 『其便』, 元禄7 (1694), the 東京大学 copy, canvases 75–78, at the 国書データベース. https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/biblio/100392401/75
  18. 石河積翠, 『芭蕉句選年考』, 大野洒竹・沼波瓊音 校訂, 文成社, 1911, 下, scans 142–143, at the National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/991655/1/143
  19. 「石河積翠」, デジタル版 日本人名大辞典+Plus, at kotobank. https://kotobank.jp/word/石河積翠-1053323
  20. 勝峯晋風, 解題, 『日本俳書大系』 15 『俳諧系譜逸話集』, 1927, p. 17, scan 16, at the National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1179401/1/16
  21. 志田義秀, 「花屋日記」, in 藤村作 編, 『日本文学大辞典』, 新潮社, 1933–34, p. 387, scan 434, at the National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1235690/1/434
  22. 『芭蕉翁一代鏡』, 1898, search index 167, snippet view, National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/875646
  23. 『専売協会誌』, December 1923, search index 27, snippet view, National Diet Library. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1897107
  24. 薄田泣菫, 『象牙の塔』, 春陽堂, 1914, p. 35, scan 68, https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/906118/1/68; and 『泣菫文集』, 大阪毎日新聞社, 1926, p. 532, scan 278, https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1019879/1/278; at the National Diet Library.
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  41. Robert Aitken, The River of Heaven, Counterpoint, 2011, Our Neighbor, read on the house's shelf in an edition without page numbers.

Authors

Tim Jackowski (Systems Architect, Takase Studios, LLC) · 典 Ten (Anthropic Claude Opus 5.5, Takase Studios, LLC)

AI written · Ten wrote the history. Tim Jackowski commissioned it and answers for it.

Checked · Takase Studios (an address check by script), 2026-10-19, citations — the cited web addresses opened and the quoted words looked for at each; every address answered with the words sought, one only after the check's own key for a library label was corrected; nothing found to differ · two fresh-context readers per round (Claude), 2026-10-19, every claim in the page's summary block traced to its source, claim by claim: round 1 FAIL on a reader's finding of a wrong fact (a syllable the page's table put in the typesets, where the 1909 printing has another), the other reader passing; round 2 PASS, both; corrections made

Research depth: step 3 of our 10-step ladder, foundation complete · October 2026

Cite as: Tim Jackowski and Ten, "Philology of 秋深き隣は何をする人ぞ (aki fukaki tonari wa nani o suru hito zo)," Takase Studios, 2026, https://takase.com/library/philology/basho-deep-autumn-what-does-my-neighbor-do-aki-fukaki-tonari-wa-nani-o-suru-hito-zo.