Santoka Taneda (1882-1940) is one of Japan’s most beloved modern haiku poets and certainly one of the most eccentric. William Scott Wilson brings his vast experience as a translator of Japanese literature to present a wonderful English-language biography of Santoka who spent years on the road as a monk-cum-poet, travelling extensively without a fixed home. Filled with inspiring haiku and touching accounts of Santoka’s encounters with kind and not-so-kind strangers on his journeys, this book is a must-read for anyone interested in how traditional Japanese culture endures into modern times. But be warned: readers are likely to feel guilty, finding so much joy in another man’s sadness.

Here are excerpts from the book and a selection of the haiku poems contained within:

“In the summer of 1932, Santoka stretched his legs to go begging in the neighbouring districts and as he walked along with his feet directed towards the east, he stepped onto the earth of his old hometown, Hofu. There was no reason for the people walking about the town to know that this begging monk had been the young master of the great Taneda so long ago. But for Santoka, the Tenmangu shrine, the Matsuzaki Elementary School below the shrine, and the houses continued on to Hachioji were all exactly as they had been in the days of his youth that he could not forget. With old memories going through his head, he finally stood at the ruins of the mansion that had been the house of his birth.

No traces left
of the house where I was born:
firelies.

That evening Santoka walked just two and a half miles and called in at the house of his younger sister, Shizu Machida. The house, which he had not seen for a long time, stood in the middle of whitewashed mud walls just as it had long ago, the magnolia and other trees growing thick in the garden. “Elder brother? I was wondering who it might be.” His younger sister stood there at the door staring hard at the completely transformed figure of her older brother. Santoka had walked all day and his straw sandals had come apart, so he stood there barefoot. Having heard that a strange fellow had come to the village, seven or eight of the children who had been looking for fireflies gathered at Santoka’s back.

Come! Come! Fireflies
    I’ve come back
   to my hometown.

“Do you think he’s a priest?” “No, no. He’s a beggar,” they said in suppressed whispers. Shizu silently led her brother around to the well behind the house, drew water and washed his feet. The master of the house was not there that night. Santoka’s younger sister picked lettuce leaves, prepared a meal of chishamomi (red lettuce salad) on the spot, and for the first time in twenty years, cheerfully poured him some sake. Thinking of her neighbors, however, she did not tell her children that this strange guest was their only uncle. Santoka did not talk much either, but lay down in his warm bed, and ruminating on his sister’s affection, fell into a deep sleep.

Santoka woke up early in the morning and was arranging the previous day’s haiky in bed when Shizu came in quietly and said, “Elder brother, this is inexcusable but, well … would you leave before the people in the neighborhood get up? We’ll have a hard time if they start calling you a beggar, you see. I’ve already prepared your meal.”

He understood his sister’s mind well. After quickly washing his face, he picked up chopsticks for one person in the wooden-florred room. Shizu had not forgotten to add a two-go bottle filled to the top with morning sake. She was kind enough to accompany Santoka to the gate, and silently put a fifty-sen coin into his beggar’s bag. Santoka stepped briskly away without looking back. He did not want to show his little sister his tears.”

Selected Haiku of Santoka Taneda