Having seen countless beauties of rivers and mountains, sea and land, my heart now hurried toward Kisakata. From the port of Sakata we went northeast, over mountains, along the shore and across the sand, ten ri in all; as the sun sank, the sea wind blew up the sand, and a misty rain hid Mount Chokai. Groping as if in the dark, thinking the rain too was a rare sight and the clear view after it would be a pleasure, we squeezed into a fisherman's hut to wait for the rain to stop.
The next morning the sky was clear, and as the morning sun rose brightly we took a boat out on Kisakata. First we put in at Noin Island and visited the place where Noin lived quietly for three years; landing on the far shore, we found the old cherry tree of which Saigyo wrote "rowing over the blossoms," keeping his memory alive.
The bay of Kisakata is about one ri each way, its look like Matsushima and yet different. Matsushima seems to laugh; Kisakata seems to grieve. Sorrow is added to loneliness, and the look of the land seems to trouble the soul.
"Kisakata ya / ame ni Seishi ga / nebu no hana" (Kisakata: in the rain, Xi Shi, the silk-tree blossoms. In the rain-veiled view, the silk trees bloom like the Chinese beauty Xi Shi, eyes closed in sorrow.)
"Shiogoshi ya / tsuru hagi nurete / umi suzushi" (At Shiogoshi, a crane stands with wet legs: how cool the sea.)
＊
Kisakata was once called the Ninety-Nine Islands and Eighty-Eight Lagoons, a famous scenic spot praised together with Matsushima: "Matsushima in the east, Kisakata in the west." But in 1804, 115 years after Basho's visit, a great earthquake raised the seabed, and the bay became dry land. Today the former islands dot the rice fields as small hills. In planting season, when the flooded fields reflect the island shapes, the old Kisakata comes back to life.