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Home › Library › Philology › Bashō - Taken ill on my travels, My dreams roam over the withered moors

旅に病んで夢は枯野をかけ廻る tabi ni yande yume wa kareno o kakemeguru Bashō - Taken ill on my travels, My dreams roam over the withered moors

This is a philological study of the haiku 旅に病んで夢は枯野をかけ廻る (tabi ni yande yume wa kareno o kakemeguru), Bashō's last new verse, following it from his disciples' records of 1694 through the question whether it is a death-verse, in Japanese and in English.

Japanese Scroll of Bashō - Taken ill on my travels, My dreams roam over the withered moors (tabi ni yande yume wa kareno wo kake meguru) — Calligraphy by Eri Takase
Bashō - Taken ill on my travels, My dreams roam over the withered moors (tabi ni yande yume wa kareno wo kake meguru)

Haiku by Bashō on a traditional Japanese Scroll by Master Eri Takase.

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Abstract

旅に病んで夢は枯野をかけ廻る, ill on the road, and my dreams run round the withered fields, is the last new verse of Bashō 芭蕉, composed at Osaka in the night of the eighth day of the tenth month of 1694, four days before his death. The disciples who were there headed it composed in illness, and one of them wrote that Bashō left no death-verse because every verse of his ordinary days had been one; none of them has him rule on whether this verse is a death-verse. The ruling that made it famous, this is not a death-verse, nor is it not one, first appears in a bedside diary printed in 1810 under the disciples' names, which Japanese scholars showed in the 1920s to be a forgery. Basil Hall Chamberlain had carried the forged scene into English in 1902, and the English books retold it for decades after the Japanese scholarship had set it aside.

Overview

The text. The scroll carries 旅に病んで夢は枯野をかけ廻る, the modern editions' spelling. The disciples' books of 1694 and 1695 write the verb without its nasal: Takarai Kikaku 宝井其角's memorial volume prints 旅に病て夢ハ枯野をかけ廻る [1], and Kagami Shikō 各務支考's 笈日記 has 旅に病て夢は枯野をかけ廻る [2]. Two early books spell the verb in kana, やんて: the life of Bashō by Rotsū 路通, printed in 1695 [3], and the collection of his verse printed in 1698 by Itō Fūkoku 伊藤風国 [4]. Those kana settle the reading as yande; Chamberlain in 1902 read it yamite [5], and a storyteller of 1906 writes 病みて [6]. The spellings 病で and 病んで belong to later books [7][8][9]. The last word is written with the character 廻 in the prints and read two ways: Rotsū's kana has かけまはる, kakemawaru [3][10], as do Chamberlain's kake-mawaru and a manuscript book of portraits of scholars [11]; the modern reading, かけめぐる, stands in a manuscript on painters [12], in Akutagawa Ryūnosuke 芥川龍之介's story of 1918 [13] and in an anthology of 1926 [8]. 旅に寢て, lying down on the road, stands in an undated manuscript miscellany that otherwise copies Kikaku's sentence, and in one of two lists in a 1909 manual [14][15]; no disciple's book has it. The poet also offered a second form. Kikaku gives it as 枯野を廻る夢心, a dreaming mind that circles the withered fields [1]; Shikō, who was at the bedside, gives only its end, なをかけ廻る夢心, the dreaming mind still running round, and says he never heard its opening [2]. Ishigami Satoshi 石上敏 notes that Kikaku tells the night as he had it from Shikō, so the two are one report in two wordings [10]. The meter is six, seven, five, the first line one over: た・び・に・や・ん・で, ゆ・め・は・か・れ・の・を, か・け・め・ぐ・る.

The sense. A sick man on a journey cannot move, and his dreams can: they run over the winter fields he had spent his life walking. What has been argued is not the line but its status. The disciples call it a verse composed in illness: 病中吟 for Shikō, 八日の夜の吟 for Kikaku, 病中の吟 for Rotsū, 病中乃吟 for Fūkoku [2][1][3][4]. By 1797 a guidebook prints it at his grave under the word 辞世, death-verse [7]. The forged diary of 1810 has him refuse the word and refuse to refuse it [16]. The annotated editions of the late twentieth century say it is not a death-verse [17]. In English it has been his death-verse, his last verse, or both.

The words. 旅に病んで is fallen ill on a journey; Shikō's headnote for it is 病中吟, composed during illness, which Haruo Shirane renders During Illness [18]. 夢は sets the dreams off with は against the body that cannot move; in the second form the subject is 夢心, the dreaming mind. 枯野 is the withered fields, the winter season word; Miyamori Asatarō 宮森麻太郎 makes it withered moors and names them, in his gloss, the moors of Owari and Mino [19]. かけ廻る is to run around, to range: Miyamori's dreams roam, Steven D. Carter's speaker runs about, R. H. Blyth's dreams wander [19][20][21]. As words the line says: Ill on the road, my dreams run round the withered fields.

The verse in English. Chamberlain's paper of 1902 is the earliest known English rendering, and it came with the forged deathbed [5]. Curtis Hidden Page and Miyamori retold that scene [22][19]; Kenneth Yasuda, Blyth, Earl Miner and Carter carried the verse as his last or his death-verse [23][21][24][20]; Makoto Ueda and Shirane went back to Shikō's record and set the forged scene down nowhere [25][18].

The historical record

1694, the tenth month. Kikaku, 芭蕉翁終焉記, in the memorial volume 枯尾花. Kikaku's account of the death, printed the year it happened, gives the night of the eighth: 唯壁を隔て命運を祈る声の耳に入けるにや心弱き夢のさめたるはとて, perhaps the voices praying for his life through the wall reached his ears; saying that a weak heart's dream had woken, then the verse, 旅に病て夢ハ枯野をかけ廻る, and after it また枯野を廻る夢心ともせはやと申されしか是さへ妄執なから風雅の上に死ん身の道を切に思ふなりと悔まれし八日の夜の吟也, he said he might also make it "a dreaming mind that circles the withered fields"; and he regretted that even this was attachment, that he thought so hard on the way of one who will die in the midst of poetry; it was the verse of the night of the eighth [1]. There is no word 辞世 in the passage. The regret is for composing at all, not for what the verse is.

1695. Shikō, 笈日記, the entry for the eighth day at Naniwa. Late that night Bashō called his attendant Donshū 呑舟, the ink was heard being ground, and what he had written was the verse: 病中吟 / 旅に病て夢は枯野をかけ廻る 翁 [2]. Then he called Shikō, offered なをかけ廻る夢心 and asked which should stand. Shikō meant to ask how the second began, feared to tire him, and answered only 此句なにゝかおとり候半, what could this verse be inferior to?, and he regretted it: いかなる不思議の五文字か侍らん、今はほいなし, what marvelous opening it may have had is now past knowing. Bashō's own words follow: with life and death before him he was still composing; sleeping he ran among the morning clouds and evening mists, いねては朝雲暮烟の間をかけり, and waking he started at the voices of streams and wild birds, さめては山水野鳥の聲におどろく; the Buddha called this attachment. Then Shikō speaks for himself: さばかりの叟の辭世は、などなかりけると思ふ人も世にはあるべし, there will be people who wonder why so great an old man left no death-verse. The next day's entry adds what the famous telling leaves out: on the ninth Bashō asked about an older verse of his, 大井川浪に塵なし夏の月, and reworked it because its 塵 could be taken for the one in the 白菊 verse he had made for Sonome the month before, その句園女が白菊の塵にまぎらはし, to 清瀧や波にちり込青松葉 [2]. 旅に病て is his last new verse; it is not the last he wrote.

1695. Rotsū, 芭蕉翁行状記, a life of the master. Rotsū records it plainly, 翁も病中の吟あり, the master too had a verse composed in illness, and gives it with the verb in kana, 旅にやんて [3]. Some leaves later he gives the one sentence on death-verses any disciple attributes to him: いにしへより辞世を残す事誰ともある事なれは翁も残し給ふへけれと平生則辞世也何事そ此節にあらんやとて臨終の折一句なし, since of old everyone has left a death-verse, the master too might have left one, but saying "my ordinary days are my death-verse; why should it be this moment?", he left no verse at the end [3]. The sentence is Rotsū's report, and Ishigami, who takes it seriously, notes that Rotsū's standing with his fellow disciples made others doubt him [17].

1698. Fūkoku, 泊船集, a collection of Bashō's verse. Fūkoku was the physician who had prepared the sickroom at Osaka [26]. In the fifth volume, among the winter verses: 病中乃吟 / 旅にやんて夢ハ枯野をかけ廻る / 死前の事ハ枯尾花に見えたり, composed in illness … the events before his death are seen in 枯尾花 [4]. The book's colophon is dated the eleventh month of Genroku 11, four years after the death; it was typeset in 1909, and that edition keeps the original's spelling.

1770. Kasen 花仙, なつほうす, a memorial volume for another poet. The half-line has become a phrase: 彼蕉翁の夢は枯野をかけ廻るとありしも思ひ合され, and one recalls the old master Bashō's "dreams run round the withered fields", said of a different man's dying [27].

1783, the twelfth month. Takai Kitō 高井几董, 夜半翁終焉記, the account of the death of Yosa Buson 与謝蕪村. Kitō's record of his teacher's last days, signed 几董謹書, gives Buson's words to one who sat up with him in his illness: かうやうの病に觸つゝも好る道のわりなくて句案にいたらんとするに夢は枯野をかけ廻るなといへる妙境及へしとも覺へすされは蕉翁の豪傑なる事今はた感に堪さるはな, ill like this and still unreasonably fond of the way, I try to compose, and I cannot think to reach the marvelous state of "dreams run round the withered fields"; the greatness of the old master Bashō moves me now beyond bearing [28]. For Buson it is the height of the art, reached on a sickbed, and he does not call it a death-verse; on the night of the twenty-fourth, calling for a brush for his own last verses, he said 病中の吟あり, I have a verse composed in illness [28].

1797. Akizato Ritō 秋里籬島, 東海道名所圖會, at the grave. The guidebook's entry for Bashō's tomb at 義仲寺: 天下蕉門俳諧の祖たり / 枯尾花出 辞世 / 旅に病でゆめは枯野をかけ廻る はせを, the founder of the Bashō school of haikai in all the land; from 枯尾花, death-verse [7]. The passage of 枯尾花 it cites does not use the word; at the grave, a century after the death, the verse has become his death-verse.

1798. Akizato Ritō, 攝津名所圖會, at the place of death. The same compiler, at the rear of 花屋's house in Osaka, frames it as Kikaku did: 十月八日の夜乃吟ニ / 旅に病てゆめは枯野をかけ廻る はせを, as the verse of the night of the eighth day of the tenth month, and prints beside it 白菊や with Shikō's note of 1701 calling that verse 生前の筆の名残, the last trace of his brush in life [29]. One compiler, one year apart, has both framings.

1810. Bungyō 文暁, 芭蕉翁反古文, a forged diary. A priest of 正教寺 at Yatsushiro in Higo published, under a preface dated the autumn of 1810, what he presented as the bedside notes of the disciples, part of a larger work he called 俳諧芭蕉談; it was reprinted as 花屋日記, and in 1902 again under that name [30][31][16]. Its eighth day has Mukai Kyorai 向井去来 ask for a death-verse in words taken from Shikō's, さばかりの名匠の辭世はなかりしやと世にいふものもあるべし, and Bashō answer with Rotsū's thought made into an epigram: きのふの發句は今日の辭世今日の發句はあすの辭世我生涯云捨し句々一句として辭世ならざるはなし, yesterday's verse is today's death-verse, today's verse tomorrow's; of all the verses I have tossed off in my life, not one is not a death-verse [16]. Its ninth day gives the two forms, the question いづれなるべき, which should it be?, and the ruling the verse is known by: これは辭世にあらず辭世にあらざるにもあらず病中の心なり, this is not a death-verse, nor is it not one; it is the mind of my illness; and Kyorai's reply borrows Shikō's clouds and wild birds, 朝雲暮雨の間も置かす山水野鳥の上も捨てたまはす [16]. The scene is assembled from 笈日記, 枯尾花 and Rotsū's life, as the scholars of the 1920s and 1930s showed [31].

1829. 俳諧正語抄, printed under the name of Rōka 浪化. A treatise printed a hundred and twenty-six years after Rōka's death, from a manuscript said to have been kept at the house of Zushi Rogan 図司呂丸 at Haguro [31]. It tells the deathbed with a detail no disciple records, 手つから墨すり給ひて, grinding the ink himself, where Shikō has Donshū write, and it answers the question the guidebooks had raised: 此句辞世のやうに心得たる人もあるよしさにはあらず, some take this verse for a death-verse; it is not so [32]. Shida Gishū 志田義秀 in 1934 calls the book 僞書であらう, probably a forgery [31].

Undated manuscripts. Four undated manuscripts copy the night from Kikaku or Shikō. 反古ばさみ gives 旅に病んで夢は枯野をかけまはる and cites 枯尾花 on its next leaf [33]; 鶯宿雑記 copies Kikaku's sentence with the reading 旅にねて [14]; 扶桑名画伝 joins Shikō's scene, Donshū called and the ink heard grinding, to Kikaku's words, and writes 旅に病て夢ハ枯野をかけめくる [12]; 先哲像傳 heads it 病中の吟 and adds 心中余念なくいと清くこそ見ゆ, his mind without a stray thought, it looks wholly pure [11]. None of them calls it a death-verse in the passages that carry it.

1895. Masaoka Shiki 正岡子規, 獺祭書屋俳話. Shiki took the forgery for the record, and for the source of the record: こゝに一奇書あり … 芭蕉終焉の日記なり。(其角の書ける終焉記は此日記などに據りて作る), here is a wondrous book … the diary of Bashō's end (Kikaku's account of the end was made from diaries like this one), and 實に世界の一大奇書なり, truly one of the world's great wondrous books. He knew it had first been printed in 文化七, 1810, and counted it the poet's good fortune that it had lain a century in someone's box [34].

1906. Momokawa Minoru 桃川実, 芭蕉旅日記, a storyteller's performance in print. The death told for an audience, and the forged verdict staged by the disciples: 辭世にして辭世に非ず … 辭世に非ず、是は師の絕句である, a death-verse and not a death-verse … not a death-verse: it is the master's last verse [6].

1918. Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, 枯野抄. The story of the disciples at the deathbed takes its epigraph from the forgery, 丈艸、去来を召し、昨夜目のあはざるまま、ふと案じ入りて、呑舟に書かせたり、おのおの咏じたまへ / 旅に病むで夢は枯野をかけめぐる / ――花屋日記――, and calls the verse the one he had composed 三四日前に … その辞世の句に, three or four days before, as his death-verse [13]. Its Shikō worries that the master has no death-verse and plans the posthumous collection, both scenes of the forgery.

1922. Kuroda Genji 黒田源次, 芭蕉翁傳. Kuroda printed the unpublished parts of the forger's larger work from the temple's library [30] and defended him: 文曉に何の假托か存し得べき、何の僞作か存し得べき, what pretense could there be in Bungyō, what forgery?, he asked [35].

1923. 樋口功, 芭蕉研究. The first to set the book aside: 芭蕉終焉の始末は有名な『花屋日記』に詳しく記してあるが、此の書は僞作の疑があるから、(後に改めていふ)據ることは出來ぬ。依て其角の『枯尾華』と、支考の『笈日記』とに專ら據ることにする, the particulars of Bashō's end are set out in the famous 花屋日記, but as the book is suspected of forgery (as said again below) it cannot be relied on; I rely solely on Kikaku's 枯尾華 and Shikō's 笈日記 [36].

1927. Katsumine Shinpū 勝峯晋風, introduction to the text in 日本俳書大系. The printing of the rest of the set showed the whole to be Bungyō's composition, and one entry proves it: the diary calls Sonome 園女, at whose house Bashō dined on the twenty-sixth, the wife of 岡西惟中, an error taken from the genealogy 誹諧家譜, 『誹諧家譜』に誤られた記事で、これのみを以ても文曉の創作なる事は動かし得ないのである, an entry misled by 誹諧家譜; by this alone Bungyō's authorship cannot be shaken [30].

1934. Shida Gishū, 日本文学大辞典, entry 花屋日記. 從來芭蕉終焉時の基本的記錄と信ぜられて尊ばれて來たものであるが、實は僞書「俳諧芭蕉談」(別項)の第五篇であり、今日ではその僞書であることが定說となつてゐる, long believed and honored as the basic record of Bashō's end, it is in fact the fifth part of the forgery 俳諧芭蕉談, and that it is a forgery is today the settled view; it was made, the entry says, from 笈日記, 枯尾花 and 芭蕉翁行状記 [31].

2023 and 2024. Ishigami Satoshi, 大阪商業大学論集. The present consensus in the scholar's words: すでに多くの指摘があるように、該句は「病中吟」であって辞世句ではない, as has often been pointed out, the verse is a 病中吟, not a death-verse; no disciple wrote that it was one; the annotated editions have said so outright since the 小学館 日本古典文学全集 of 1973, 「辞世の句ではない」, and the 校本芭蕉全集 of 1988, 「辞世ではない」, while the general understanding still takes it for one [17]. The earlier paper argues the second form's lost opening was 旅に病て itself [10].

The attribution. There has never been a second name. The verse is Bashō's in Kikaku, Shikō, Rotsū and Fūkoku, in every collection since, and in every translation. The one line that could be mistaken for a rival, the 泊船集's 是は路通が「もも月ふり」に翁の句なりと書出しぬ, this one Rotsū wrote out in his もも月ふり as the master's, belongs to the verse printed after this one, あさよさを誰松しまぞかたこゝろ, under the heading 雜句; it is a note on a different verse [4].

What is not a source. The forged diary of 1810 is reception, the most consequential the verse has had, and not a record of the night. The tanka of Jien 慈円, whom Kikaku calls 慈鎭和尙, that Kikaku quotes in the same account, 旅の世にまた旅寢して草枕夢の中にも夢を見る哉, he sets beside a different verse of Bashō's, 住みつかぬ旅の心や置火燵, not beside this one [37]. The second form is Bashō's own alternative, not a variant reading, and it has one witness, Shikō. The storyteller's verdict of 1906 is a performance of the forgery, not evidence for anything [6].

The verse in English

1902. Basil Hall Chamberlain, "Bashō and the Japanese Poetical Epigram," Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan 30, pages 289–290. The earliest known English rendering, inside the forged scene told as history: A minute account has been preserved of his last days; his disciples requested him to compose a death-bed stanza, according to the universal custom of Japanese poets. But he refused; the next morning he gave them Tabi ni yamite / Yume wa kare-no wo / Kake-mawaru — Ta'en ill while journeying, I dreamt / I wandered o'er a withered moor, and said "Neither is this a death-bed stanza, nor is it not one" [5]. The mushrooms at Sonome's house, the refusal on the eighth, last night, while I lay sleepless, and the neither/nor are all the forgery's. He reprinted the paper in Japanese Poetry in 1910 [38].

1911. William N. Porter, A Year of Japanese Epigrams, pages 89, 99, 102–103 and 130. A book of one verse for each day of the year sets this one on 28 November, the day it gives for Bashō's death, under the title Bashō on his Approaching End: Tabi ni yande / Yume wa kare no wo / Kake-meguru — Nearing my journey's end, / In dreams I trudge the wild, waste moor, / And seek a kindly friend. The note calls it his last verse, in which, feeling ill while crossing a desolate moor, he seeks the house of some charitable friend who will take him in. The friend is Porter's: nothing in the Japanese seeks one, and the line is there to rhyme with the first. His life of Bashō, taken, a footnote says, chiefly from Hokku Tehodoki, Haikai Kosen Shinsen, and Professor Chamberlain's paper, has the poet fall ill at the house of the poetess Sono after eating mushrooms and moved to the house called Hanaya, and no death-verse asked for or refused. His romaji is the modern editions' reading, yande and kake-meguru, where Chamberlain had yamite and kake-mawaru [39].

1914. Noguchi Yonejirō 野口米次郎, writing as Yone Noguchi, The Spirit of Japanese Poetry, page 38. He could not forget Nature even at the final death moment when he wrote a Hokku poem saying: "Lying ill on journey, / Ah, my dreams / Run about the ruin of fields." [40]

1923. Curtis Hidden Page, Japanese Poetry: An Historical Essay, page 116. Chamberlain's scene retold, with the deathbed moved to Sonome's house, which no witness does: "Last night, as I lay awake and dreamed, this came to me; it both is, and is not, a death-poem: / At midway of my journey fallen ill, / To-night I fare again, / In dream, across a desert plain." [22]

1932. Miyamori Asatarō, An Anthology of Haiku Ancient and Modern, pages 60–61 and 218–219. The introduction gives the forgery whole: Asked for a death-verse, he answered, "Well, yesterday's verse is to-day's death-verse. To-day's verse will be to-morrow's death-verse," then the verse and "This is not my death-verse," said the poet "nor is it not my death-verse. At any rate it is a verse suggested by my illness." The anthology gives Taken Ill While Travelling as the title, I'm taken ill while travelling; / And my dreams roam o'er withered moors, and a prose gloss in which the dreams carry his soul over the moors of Owari and Mino and the speaker is truding over withered moors, Porter's verb. Below the gloss, page 219 reprints four earlier renderings, each credited: Chamberlain's, Page's, Noguchi's and Porter's [19].

1947. Kenneth Yasuda, A Pepper-Pod. Under THE LAST VERSE: Having become ill / This journey, o'er withered moors / My dream wanders still [23].

1963. R. H. Blyth, A History of Haiku, volume 1. Ill on a journey; / My dreams wander / Over a withered moor, introduced as his death-verse and praised for mystery without solemnity, finality without despair, truth without ornament [21].

1981. Earl Miner and Hiroko Odagiri, The Monkey's Straw Raincoat, pages 173 and 333. Stricken in travel / and over withered moors my dreams / turn about and about, introduced as one of his last hokku and, in a note, as a kind of last poem [24].

1991. Steven D. Carter, Traditional Japanese Poetry: An Anthology. Ill on a journey, / I run about in my dreams / over withered fields, with the note that it was written a few days before his death; Carter alone keeps the running [20].

1992. Makoto Ueda, Bashō and His Interpreters, pages 412–413. under the headnote During illness, on a journey, ailing / my dreams roam about / on a withered moor, followed by Shikō's own account translated, with the second form as continuing to roam about / my dreaming mind, and by the Japanese critics from Meisetsu to Andō; the forged diary is not among them [25].

1998. Haruo Shirane, Traces of Dreams, the epilogue's epigraph. The verse with the headnote During Illness, dictated to Donshū, as recorded in Shikō's journal of the mourning [18].

Today. The house English is Miyamori's, credited to him, and his gloss is printed beside it as a second translation, which it is not. A rendering of this line has to keep the dreams as the subject that moves and the body as the one that cannot, and to keep 枯野 as the winter fields; every translator does. What the house page lacks is the poet's name and the date, four days before his death in 1694.

A reading

The disciples who heard the verse called it what it was, a verse composed in illness, and the one of them who reported Bashō's view of death-verses reported a refusal of the category: every day's verse had been one, so no moment needed its own. That is the nearest thing to a ruling in the record, and it is not a ruling on this verse. Two things made it a death-verse anyway. It was the last new verse he composed, and a verse that sends the dreams out over the fields the body will never cross again reads like a farewell whether or not it was meant as one; Buson, dying nearly ninety years later, took it for the summit of the art and not for a leave-taking. And by the end of the eighteenth century the question had been asked, at the grave, in print. The forger of 1810 answered it with a paradox and put the paradox in Bashō's mouth, and the paradox was so good that Chamberlain, Page and Miyamori carried it into English as the poet's own. I read the line without the paradox. It reports a night: a sick man who could not sleep, whose dreams did the traveling. Its greatness is that it does not know it is the last.

Sources not seen

百花堂文車 編『花蔣』 (はなかつみ), two volumes, recorded by the National Institute of Japanese Literature as work 1606822 (https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/work/1606822) with its self-preface dated 元禄八, 1695, and held in manuscript at the 天理図書館 綿屋文庫, the 須賀川市図書館 矢部文庫 and the 京都大学 潁原文庫, with a printed copy at the 松宇文庫. Ishigami Satoshi names it as the first printed collection to carry the verse, ten years after the death [10]; the 1698 泊船集 carries it four years after. Reading it would settle which printed collection came first and in what form.

支考『芭蕉翁追善之日記』, 1694, Shikō's journal of the mourning, recorded by the National Institute of Japanese Literature as work 1597791 (https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/work/1597791) and held in manuscript at the 柿衞文庫 and the 岡山市中央図書館 燕々文庫. Shirane and Ishigami cite it as the earliest record of the night and of the second form [18][10]. Reading it would settle whether its wording of the second form and of the headnote differs from the 笈日記 of the following year.

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

References

  1. 宝井其角 編『枯尾花』, 1694, 「芭蕉翁終焉記」. National Institute of Japanese Literature, BID 200006073, canvas 9. https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/biblio/200006073/9
  2. 各務支考『笈日記』, 井筒屋庄兵衛, Kyoto, 1695, volume 1, the 難波 section; Kyoto University Library 谷村文庫 copy, National Institute of Japanese Literature BID 100425650, canvases 27–29, https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/biblio/100425650/27; typeset in 小沢武二 編, 春陽堂, 1926, printed pages 25–27, National Diet Library pid 1019575, scans 19–20, https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1019575/1/19
  3. 路通『芭蕉翁行状記』, 1695; the 1751 printing, 鶴本平蔵, scans 10 and 13, National Diet Library pid 2534241, https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/2534241/1/13; an undated printing from the same block, University of Tsukuba Library, National Institute of Japanese Literature BID 300056543, canvas 15, https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/biblio/300056543/15
  4. 伊藤風国 編『泊船集』, 井筒屋庄兵衛, Kyoto, 1698, volume 5; Kobe University Library copy, National Institute of Japanese Literature BID 300052847, canvas 115, https://kokusho.nijl.ac.jp/biblio/300052847/115; typeset as 『芭蕉泊船集』, 寸珍叢書, 1909, printed pages 132–133, National Diet Library pid 875664, scan 75, https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/875664/1/75
  5. Basil Hall Chamberlain, "Bashō and the Japanese Poetical Epigram," Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan 30, 1902, pages 289–290. https://archive.org/details/transactionsasi20japagoog
  6. 桃川実『芭蕉旅日記』, 1906. National Diet Library pid 890755, scans 4, 83–85. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/890755/1/84
  7. 秋里籬島『東海道名所圖會』, 1797, volume 1, the entry 芭蕉翁墳. National Diet Library pid 2559314, scan 75. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/2559314/1/75
  8. 志田義秀『俳文学選』, 1926. National Diet Library pid 947714, scans 39, 74. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/947714/1/74
  9. 島田青峰 編『芭蕉俳句紀行全集』, 1927. National Diet Library pid 1194541, scan 64. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1194541/1/64
  10. 石上敏「芭蕉の「夢」－「旅に病て夢は枯野をかけ廻る」追考－」『大阪商業大学論集』19-2, 2023, pages 47–70, note 4. https://ouc.repo.nii.ac.jp/records/2000427
  11. 原徳斎『先哲像傳』, manuscript, volume 4. National Diet Library pid 2551755, scan 47. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/2551755/1/47
  12. 堀直格『扶桑名画伝』, manuscript. National Diet Library pid 2551786, scan 63. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/2551786/1/63
  13. 芥川龍之介「枯野抄」, 『新小説』, October 1918. Aozora Bunko. https://www.aozora.gr.jp/cards/000879/files/72_14932.html
  14. 駒井乗邨 編『鶯宿雑記』, manuscript, undated. National Diet Library pid 10301648, scans 59–61. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/10301648/1/60
  15. 沼波瓊音『俳句の作り方』, 1909. National Diet Library pid 994608, scans 53, 79. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/994608/1/79
  16. 『芭蕉翁花屋日記』, 晩鐘会, 1902, printed pages 20–23. National Diet Library pid 875665, scans 15–16. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/875665/1/16
  17. 石上敏「呂丸と芭蕉―「旅に病て夢は枯野をかけ廻る」別解―」『大阪商業大学論集』20-2, 2024, pages 58–80; pages 79, 66, 63 and 62. https://ouc.repo.nii.ac.jp/records/2000640
  18. Haruo Shirane, Traces of Dreams, Stanford University Press, 1998, epilogue epigraph.
  19. Asatarō Miyamori, An Anthology of Haiku Ancient and Modern, Maruzen, Tokyo, 1932, pages 60–61, 218–219.
  20. Steven D. Carter, Traditional Japanese Poetry: An Anthology, Stanford University Press, 1991.
  21. R. H. Blyth, A History of Haiku, volume 1, Hokuseido Press, Tokyo, 1963.
  22. Curtis Hidden Page, Japanese Poetry: An Historical Essay, Houghton Mifflin, 1923, page 116. https://archive.org/details/japanesepoetryhi00page
  23. Kenneth Yasuda, A Pepper-Pod, Alfred A. Knopf, 1947.
  24. Earl Miner and Hiroko Odagiri, The Monkey's Straw Raincoat and Other Poetry of the Bashō School, Princeton University Press, 1981, pages 173, 333.
  25. Makoto Ueda, Bashō and His Interpreters, Stanford University Press, 1992, pages 412–413.
  26. 「伊藤風国」, 日本人名大辞典+Plus, at kotobank. https://kotobank.jp/word/伊藤風国-1055252
  27. 花仙 編『なつほうす』, 1770. National Diet Library pid 2540284, scan 7. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/2540284/1/7
  28. 高井几董「夜半翁終焉記」, 1783, in 阿心庵雪人 編『蕪村全集 校註』, 上田屋, 1897, printed pages 219–224. National Diet Library pid 875713, scans 123–126. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/875713/1/123
  29. 秋里籬島『攝津名所圖會』, 1798, volume 4, 芭蕉翁終焉地. National Diet Library pid 2563462, scan 38. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/2563462/1/38
  30. 勝峯晋風, 解題, 日本俳書大系 15『俳諧系譜逸話集』, 1927, page 17. National Diet Library pid 1179401, scan 16. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1179401/1/16
  31. 志田義秀, 「花屋日記」, and 「浪化」 附說, in 藤村作 編『日本文学大辞典』, 新潮社, 1934, page 387. National Diet Library pid 1235690, scans 434, 1285. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1235690/1/434
  32. 『俳諧正語抄』, 1829, printed as 浪化's. National Diet Library pid 2540297, scans 29–31. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/2540297/1/30
  33. 『反古ばさみ』, manuscript, undated. National Diet Library pid 2554960, scans 24–25. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/2554960/1/24
  34. 正岡子規『獺祭書屋俳話』, 日本新聞社, 1895, page 44. National Diet Library pid 875217, scan 62. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/875217/1/62
  35. 黒田源次『芭蕉翁傳』, 聚英閣, 1922. National Diet Library pid 970059, scans 119–120. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/970059/1/120
  36. 樋口功『芭蕉研究』, 文献書院, 1923, page 183. National Diet Library pid 968904, scan 102. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/968904/1/102
  37. 「芭蕉翁終焉記」, in 『芭蕉全集 前編』, 日本古典全集, 1926, 附録, printed pages 250–251. National Diet Library pid 1019606, scan 151. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1019606/1/151
  38. Basil Hall Chamberlain, Japanese Poetry, John Murray, London, 1910, pages 190–191.
  39. William N. Porter, A Year of Japanese Epigrams, Henry Frowde, Oxford University Press, London, 1911, pages 89, 99, 102–103, 130. https://archive.org/details/a-year-of-japanese-epigrams
  40. Yone Noguchi, The Spirit of Japanese Poetry, Wisdom of the East, John Murray, London, 1914, page 38. https://archive.org/details/spiritofjapanese00noguuoft

Authors

Tim Jackowski (Systems Architect, Takase Studios, LLC) · 典 Ten (Anthropic Claude Fable 5.1, Takase Studios LLC)

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

Not yet reviewed.