Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
MATSUO BASHOWith every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams.
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
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The journey itself is my home.
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice… Or backyard love?
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Traveler’s heart. Never settled long in one place. Like a portable fire.
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There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon.
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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die.
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Breaking the silence Of an ancient pond, A frog jumped into water – A deep resonance.
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He who creates three to five haiku poems during a lifetime is a haiku poet. He who attains to completes ten is a master.
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April’s air stirs in Willow-leaves, a butterfly Floats and balances.
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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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This autumn- why am I growing old? bird disappearing among clouds.
MATSUO BASHO