The words he used most

We counted the words of all 701 poems.
The most frequent is “grass” — 52 poems. Then water, mountains, the moon.
What a man saw as he walked, begged, and slept in the fields — the order of his words tells it.

No. 1

草

grass · 53× · 52 poems

The title Sōmokutō means a tower raised to the souls of grasses and trees. For Santōka, grass was a place to sit, a bed for the night, and the place he would one day return to. “Glad things too, sad things too — the grass grows thick.”

No. 2

水

water · 48× · 45 poems

Spring water met on the begging road, water drawn, water carried home. The drink written about most by a man who drank himself into ruin was, in fact, water. “Drifting and drifting I savor the water.”

No. 3

山

mountains · 37× · 34 poems

The mountains of the opening poem: “going in deeper and deeper still, the green mountains”. Not Fuji, not Aso — just green mountains. Being no mountain in particular, they become each reader’s own.

	word	count	a note on the word
4	月the moon	34× · 34 poems	Once he lived alone in his hermitage, the moon became his most familiar visitor. A house never locked lets the moon come all the way in. “Letting the moon into my bed I settle down to sleep.”
5	咲くblooming	30× · 30 poems	He stopped, again and again, for nameless grasses in bloom. Whatever blooms is affirmed just as it is. “That too will do — grass is blooming.”
6	雪snow	30× · 24 poems	Perhaps the quietest word in his poems. Alone in the Gochū-an hermitage, he watches what keeps falling. “Onto snow snow falling, and I am in the stillness.”
7	風wind	24× · 24 poems	Wind was not something to be blown about by, but something to walk inside. “Today again all day I have walked the wind.”
8	花flowers	23× · 23 poems	His eye went not to blossom at its height but to flowers blooming unnoticed — tea flowers, loquat flowers, shepherd’s-purse. “At last it opened and it was a white flower.”
9	ふるfalling	21× · 20 poems	Rain falls, snow falls, leaves fall. For a man who walked beneath falling things with one bamboo hat, this word drops straight from the sky into the poem. “Snow falls there is food to eat snow falls.”
10	葉leaves	20× · 19 poems	Persimmon leaves, loquat leaves, taro leaves. A single leaf falling is enough for a poem. “In the blaze of noon, a single leaf falls.”
11	旅journey	20× · 17 poems	His whole life. Without a house, from journey to journey, changing straw sandals, the poems were born. “This journey, this endless journey — a cicada crying.”
12	落葉fallen leaves	19× · 18 poems	Fallen leaves are swept, trodden — and they announce a visitor. Living alone, he kept their sound close to his ear. “Those footsteps coming through the leaves I know them.”
13	あるくwalking	17× · 17 poems	Santōka was a walking poet. “This hopeless self of mine walking along.” There was no destination; walking itself was the point. So the poems grew in number, like steps.
14	食べるeating	16× · 15 poems	Cooking rice received as alms, picking butterbur to eat. His eating poems are the plain record of being alive. “Savoring it deeply rice that is only rice.”
15	ふるさとhome village	16× · 15 poems	The town in Yamaguchi where his family fell and his mother died. Longing and pain always live together in it. “Home is far away and the buds on the trees.”
16	水音sound of water	15× · 15 poems	The sound alone can carry a poem: “pushing in — the sound of water”. To a walker it was a signpost; at the hermitage it settled the heart. “The sound of water — truly I have settled down.”
17	雲clouds	15× · 14 poems	Look up and the clouds hurry; the rain they dropped soaks him. The speed of what crosses the sky, the slowness of a man walking the ground. “Cold clouds hurrying by.”
18	おちるdropping	14× · 12 poems	A ripe persimmon drops, a camellia drops, a leaf drops. Waiting for things to fall was the day’s whole work at the hermitage. “Thinking of Sumita the persimmon leaves fall and fall.”
19	ちるscattering	13× · 13 poems	He wrote falling as often as blooming. What scatters is petals and leaves — and, some day, himself. “Blooming quietly and falling.”
20	啼くcrying (of birds)	12× · 12 poems	For insects he wrote “sing”; for birds he often chose a starker character, closer to a wail. When a bird cries that way, it is somehow Santōka himself. “A crow caws and I too am alone.”

21雨rain12× 22枯れるwithering12× 23朝morning12× 24空sky12× 25柿persimmon12× 26実seeds & berries12× 27蕗butterbur12× 28芽buds11× 29あたたかいwarm11× 30日the sun11× 31ふかいdeep10× 32ゆくgoing, passing10× 33てふてふbutterfly10× 34春spring10× 35鳴くsinging (of insects)10× 36墓graves10× 37木trees10× 38つくつくぼうしa late-summer cicada10× 39石stones9× 40道the road9× 41雑草weeds9× 42土earth9× 43鴉crow9× 44竹bamboo9× 45藪thicket9× 46ひとりalone8× 47死ぬdying8× 48秋autumn8× 49椿camellia8× 50しづかquiet8× 51火fire8× 52人people8× 53白いwhite8× 54待つwaiting8× 55飯cooked rice8× 56萩bush clover7× 57すすきpampas grass7× 58笠bamboo hat7× 59木の芽tree buds7× 60二つtwo7× 61一つone7× 62すわるsitting7× 63寝るsleeping7× 64音sound7× 65おちつくsettling down7× 66もどるreturning7× 67ふくsprouting, blowing7× 68あかるいbright7× 69うつくしいbeautiful7× 70ぬけるpassing through7× 71手hands7× 72吹くblowing7× 73青いblue7× 74木の葉tree leaves6× 75身this body6× 76うまいdelicious6× 77逢うmeeting6× 78冬winter6× 79米rice6× 80ふむtreading6× 81穂ears of grass6× 82死death6× 83ぬれる6× 84鳥birds6× 85しげるgrowing thick6× 86行くgoing6× 87たたくknocking6× 88炎天blazing sun5× 89いただくreceiving5× 90乞うbegging5× 91とんぼdragonfly5× 92彼岸花red spider lily5× 93影shadow5× 94家house5× 95しぐれるwinter drizzle5× 96秋風autumn wind5× 97茶tea5× 98ひらくopening5× 99御飯a meal of rice5× 100竹の子bamboo shoots5× 101涼しいcool5× 102ながれるflowing5× 103生きるliving5× 104したしいdear, familiar5× 105日の丸the rising-sun flag5×

All 701 poems were counted by machine and checked by eye.
Ubiquitous words like “to be” and “to do” are omitted; words appearing in five or more poems are listed.

Wake each morning to a single poem.

Santōka Alarm puts these 701 poems in your pocket,
an iOS app that wakes you each morning with one.

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The words he used most

The road of words

草

水

山

Wake each morning to a single poem.