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Analysis and Reader's Response to "The Old Pond" By Matsuo Basho

Furu-Ike Ya

Kawazu Tobikomu

Mizu no Oto

古池や 
蛙飛び込む 
水の音

In high school I studied Japanese. I took Japanese 3 twice since I failed it the first time, and got a "D" the second time around. In the front desk office, they had a list of colleges that students were going to; meanwhile, I thought "oh, college" and continued to sleep when I got home from school, and during class. I don't remember graduation.

My dad forced me to go to sign up for classes at Evergreen Community College. I remember him driving me there and telling me to fill out this form and follow directions. If nothing else in my life, I can pass putting my name down on paper.

One of the first classes I signed up for was in Japanese Literature. I already had college credits in Japanese culture when a teacher from San Jose City College offered a class. I passed that class with a B+, so I thought maybe I should pursue this subject.

So when I read this poem the first time, I fixated on the last part: Mizu no Oto. Here are some translations I've read of that last line:

"Splash"
"Water's Sound"

For me it was a question of ownership versus onomatopoeia. How should we take the verse?

The first lines translated to me very simply:



The old pond (furu [old] ike [pond] ya [transitional word])
Frog jumps in (Kawazu [frog] Tobikomu [Jumps in])
Mizu no oto

Even to this day, I like the translation as "Water's sound." Ownership. However, I understand the usage of onomatopeia "splash" as a contrast of the stillness of an old pond with something new and exciting, a sound, finally happening in a light-hearted way. There are many old ponds out there, and there will be many frogs jumping in.

But I empathized with the idea of the image of Water's sound rather than the sound. In my mind, it was easier to imagine a green slicked pond and, with my knowledge of watching nature channels from my bed, imagined the life already in the algae: different levels of tiny fish and animals living in the habitat. I could hear a narrator's voice saying things like, "these tiny fish only come out in the rains in puddles, feed on the algae, breed and have their offspring lay dormant in their eggs until the next rains come."

There's a routine in aging. There's a routine in drying up again and waiting for the rains. A frog who lives multiple years knows where ponds will form, where to return to for food and copulate.

But in that moment -- the frog jumping in, the only response the pond can do, and continues to do while drying up -- is to make a sound. How loud the sound is up to the reader, but to me, it sounded like a gulp. An acknowledgement of something taken in. And on the surface, the sound dissipates. And on the inside, the habitat changes in familiar ways.

I barely passed my way through community college, undergrad, grad school, then back to community college again. Familiar. I've changed enough to go forward at barely passable rate.

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