Reading Bashõ's haibun I'm once again
struck by contrasting feelings; this is the kind
of literature I like and love, and it's always
a joy to come back to Bashõ, yet what
a fraud he was! All his pretended povetry,
while he could just snap his fingers
(figuratively; in practice, make a polite hint)
and the great and the wealthy would
immediately feed and cloth and house
him and demand nothing in exchange
beyond him overseeing a few nights
of poetry writing and wine drinking.
And while he pretended to be poor,
played the game of being a hermit
in a teeming city of commerce,
real people in Edo were dying
from real poverty.
And I'm not sure can I forgive him.
03.08.2024
Poem Poems Poetry Verse
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