The wind is often used as a metaphor for fate. Shiki may have been thinking of that as he wrote the following haiku.

Shiki is writing about his meeting with his old friend Hyōtei in 1895, a fellow haiku poet whom he had worked with at the newspaper where he wrote his essays calling for haiku reform. Hyōtei had recently returned from China where he had fought in the army in the first Sino-Japanese War, and Shiki is commenting that both are still alive to meet again: neither his tuberculosis had killed him yet, nor had the war in China killed Hyōtei.

In his notes for this haiku, Shiki wrote about the mixed feelings he had when meeting with Hyōtei. On one hand, he was very happy to see his friend again, but at the same time he was sad, perhaps a little envious, that Hyōtei had been given a full life of adventure while his illness had confined him to his bed most of the time. He wasn't exactly angry at the universe for this unfairness, but he was sad regardless and felt a sense of melancholy. His confusion over his feelings gave birth to this haiku.

Shiki was 28 when he wrote this. His tuberculosis would kill him by the age of 34.

David LaSpina is an American photographer and translator lost in Japan, trying to capture the beauty of this country one photo at a time and searching for the perfect haiku. He blogs here and at laspina.org. Write him on Twitter or Mastodon.

1. That is, me! If you like this translation, feel free to use it. Just credit me. Also link here if you can. ↩