Come, butterfly It’s late- We’ve miles to go together.
MATSUO BASHOA thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
MATSUO BASHO -
The journey itself is my home.
MATSUO BASHO -
Learn the rules, and then forget them.
MATSUO BASHO -
When composing a verse let there not be a hair’s breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
MATSUO BASHO -
Calm and serene The sound of a cicada Penetrates the rock.
MATSUO BASHO -
Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
MATSUO BASHO -
From the pine tree, learn of the pine tree; And from the bamboo, of the bamboo.
MATSUO BASHO -
Friends part forever wild geese lost in cloud.
MATSUO BASHO -
Seek not the paths of the ancients; Seek that which the ancients sought.
MATSUO BASHO -
Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
MATSUO BASHO -
Learn how to listen as things speak for themselves.
MATSUO BASHO -
There came a day when the clouds drifting along with the wind aroused a wanderlust in me, and I set off on a journey to roam along the seashores
MATSUO BASHO -
Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
MATSUO BASHO -
Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
MATSUO BASHO -
Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count — / Festival of the Souls.
MATSUO BASHO