山
34 poems of mountains.
やま · in 34 of the 701 poems of Sōmokutō
- going in deeper / and deeper still / the green mountainsThe Begging Bowl
- come from deep in the mountains carrying cocoonsThe Begging Bowl
- cold rain falling and into the rained-on mountains I walkThe Begging Bowl
- the mountain I'll never see again draws awayThe Begging Bowl
- slipping and falling and the mountain hushedThe Begging Bowl
- on the withered mountain there is water enough to drinkThe Begging Bowl
- no more houses to beg from and clouds on the mountainsThe Begging Bowl
- or else I quit begging and stand watching the mountainsThe Begging Bowl
- a day in the mountains — the ants are walking tooOn the Begging Road
- hazed and layered, the mountains are my home villageOn the Begging Road
- cuckoo — tomorrow i'll cross that mountain over thereOn the Begging Road
- seeing the sun off beyond the mountains, then to my mealWalking Mountains, Walking Waters
- enough dead wood gathered for the fire — the mountain is clearWalking Mountains, Walking Waters
- drinking sake, the mountain is witheredWalking Mountains, Walking Waters
- mountain peers out past mountain — the rainy season clearsWalking Mountains, Walking Waters
- no sooner does the shower clear than mountain crabs come out to playFrom Journey to Journey
- waking from a nap mountains whichever way I lookFrom Journey to Journey
- the journey somehow autumnal even the mist that hangs on the mountainsFrom Journey to Journey
- a good inn mountains on both sides and a sake shop out frontFrom Journey to Journey
- deep in the mountains the butterbur shoots at least are in bloomFrom Journey to Journey
- the mountain being so still I take off my hatFrom Journey to Journey
- truly mountain country nothing but mountains and the moon'sFrom Journey to Journey
- white flowers from the mountain onto my deskA Landscape of Weeds
- my old home — the snow on that range of mountains shiningPersimmon Leaves
- the depths of the mountain all buddingPersimmon Leaves
- the faint scent of yuzu distant mountain rangesPersimmon Leaves
- they all march off to war — the green of the mountains greener stillThe Home Front
- the sowing done a good rain comes — the color of the mountainsCold and Alone
- through a gap between buildings the mountains show — that bluenessHeart for the Road
- since I stopped meeting people — mountain butterfliesHeart for the Road
- in the soft spring light a slag heap is only a slag heapHeart for the Road
- this is water that trickles down from the mountainThe Crow
- sun into the mountain, moon out of the mountain, persimmons heavy on the boughThe Crow
- the mountain's stillness is a white flowerThe Crow
These are the mountains of the collection’s opening poem, “going in deeper and deeper still, the green mountains”. The begging journey was always among mountains: something to cross, a place of practice, and a home to lean on — “hazed and layered, the mountains are my home village”. What is striking is that his mountains almost never carry names. Not Fuji, not Aso — just “green mountains”; being no mountain in particular, they become each reader’s own. Even in Tokyo, late in life, he found them: “through a gap between buildings the mountains show — that blueness”.