"Thisis your castle?" said Jack.
Basho smiled. "In my heart, my humble cottage isgrander than all the castles of the samurai," heexplained. "And my banana tree is more beautiful tome than all the beauty of the Imperial Garden."Jack and Annie stared at the large plant with thelong, droopy leaves.
"I like this tree so much I have taken my name fromit," said Basho.
"Bashomeans `banana tree."'
67"Cool," said Annie. She looked around. "It's nicehere."Not really,thought Jack. The cottage was shabby and thedroopy banana tree looked scrawny and sad to him.
"Please come inside," said Basho. He slipped off hissandals and left them outside. He picked68up a bundle of wood, then ducked through the lowdoor that led into his hut.
Jack and Annie took off their shoes, too, andfollowed Basho into a small, shadowy room. Bashoopened his shutters to let in the evening air. "Pleasesit," he said.
"Thank you," said Jack and Annie. Jack lookedaround the room for chairs, but there69weren't any. The only furniture was a low woodentable and a bamboo chest. Three straw mats coveredthe earthen floor. Jack and Annie sat down on one ofthe mats.
Basho lit a small oil lamp. Then he made a fire inhis fireplace. "I will prepare tea for us," he said. "Restwhile I draw water from the river." He picked up oneof the two wooden buckets near the door and headedoutside.
When Basho was gone, Jack and Annie looked ateach other. "I guess this is a three-mat house," saidAnnie.
Jack nodded. "You'd think a famous teacher of thesamurai would have a hundred-mat house ... or atleast a fifty-mat house," he said.
"I like this house, though," said Annie. "It's cozy.""I wonder who Basho is exactly," said Jack.
"If he's famous, maybe he's in our book," saidAnnie. "Look him up.""Good idea," said Jack. He pulled the research70book out of his bag. By the light of the cracklingfire, he looked upBashoin the index. "He is here!" Jack turned to the rightpage and read aloud.
Basho is one of Japan's greatest poets. He wroteshort, beautiful poems that speak to people as clearlytoday as they did during the Edo period of Japan.
"Basho's a greatpoet!"said Annie. "That explains everything!""Sort of ...... said Jack. "It explains why we had torecite poems to the samurai. But it doesn't explainwhy Basho lives in such a dinky house."Basho opened the door and came in with hisbucket. Jack closed the book and slipped it back intohis bag.
Basho poured river water into an iron pot over thefire. He pulled three tiny bowls and a small cloth bagfrom the bamboo chest. He took loose green tea fromthe bag and dropped it into the bowls. Then he waitedpatiently for the water to boil.
5971Jack and Annie waited patiently, too. Listening tothe soft rushing sounds of the river outside, Jackstarted to feel peaceful for the first time all day.
When the water was hot, Basho poured some intoeach of the tea bowls. Then he handed the warmbowls to Annie and Jack.
"Thank you," said Annie.
"Thank you," said Jack.
"You are welcome," said Basho.
Jack carefully took a sip from the steaming bowl.
The green tea tasted bitter, but he didn't mind it.
"Hmm, interesting taste," said Annie. "Basho, Jackwas wondering, if you're a famous poet, why do youlive in such a dinky house?""Annie!" said Jack, embarrassed. "She's kidding. Iwasn't really wondering that."Basho laughed. "Long ago, I trained to be asamurai," he said. "But I was not happy. All I wantedto do was write poetry. A poet does not6072need to live in a castle. A poet needs to live withthe wind and the clouds, the flowers and the birds.
Here, I have a small garden and my banana tree. Ihave the sound of the river all day long. Here, I haveeverything I need to write my poems.""What do you write about?" asked Annie. "Smallthings," said Basho. "A crow picking snails out of themud, a woodpecker hammering a tree, pine needlesscattered by the wind. A poet finds beauty in all thesmall things of nature.""And you teach poetry to the samurai?" asked Jack.
"Yes, the samurai greatly . honor the art of poetry,"said Basho. "Poetry helps focus the mind. The samuraibelieve a truly brave warrior should be able tocompose a poem even in the midst of an earthquake,or while facing an enemy on the battlefield.""Can you say one of your poems for us?" askedAnnie.
73"Let me think," said Basho. "Well ... I was workingon a new poem yesterday." He reached for a woodenbox under the table. He took a small piece of delicatepaper from the box and read aloud:
An old pond.
a frog jumps inthe sound of water.
Basho looked up at Jack and Annie. "Hmm," saidJack. "Nice beginning.""It is not just the beginning," said Basho. "It is thewhole poem. A small moment in time.""I think it's great," said Annie. "I love frogs. Yourpoem makes me love them even more.""Would you read it again, please?" Jack said.
He felt like he must have missed something. Bashoread again:
An old pond.
a frog jumps in-the sound of water.
74Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Good," he said. "It'sreally good." And he meant it. The poem made himfeel as if he himself had been right there, by thatpond, hearing the frog splash into the water, breakingthe silence.
"If you like it, you may have it," said Basho. Hehanded the paper to Jack.
"Thanks!" said Jack. As he put the poem in his bag,a bell rang softly in the distance.
"Ah, the temple bells," said Basho. He stood up. "Itis time to rest. I will take a mat and sleep outside. Ienjoy sleeping under the stars. And now, because ofthe poem you recited today, Annie, I shall think ofthem as diamonds in the sky."Annie smiled.
"You can stay inside and cover yourselves withthese mosquito nets," said Basho. He pulled some netsfrom the bamboo chest and handed them to Jack andAnnie. "But do not worry, in my small house thereare only small mosquitoes-not giant ones like those inthe Imperial Palace."75Jack and Annie laughed at Basho's joke. He gave anet to each of them. Then he picked up one of themats from the floor and pulled it outside, closing thedoor behind him.
The fire in the fireplace had died down. The lightfrom the oil lamp had nearly gone out, too. Jack andAnnie lay on the straw mats and covered themselveswith the mosquito nets. A cricket chirped on thehearth. Jack noticed a patch of light on the floor. Herealized it was moonlight coming through the openwindow.
7677Jack reached out from under the net and put hishand on the square of pale moonlight. He could hearthe rustling of the banana plant in the breeze. Halfasleep, he imagined himself swaying with its long,broad leaves.
"This dinky hut is much nicer than a castle," Anniemurmured. "I feel like we're tiny crickets going tosleep.""Yeah ... I feel like I'm holding moonlight in myhand," said Jack, "and like I'm a banana leaf... dancingin the wind.""Sounds like a poem," said Annie.
"Yeah ... maybe I should write it down . . . said Jack.
But instead, he fell fast asleep. |