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A flute with no holes is not a flute.

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Deep Instrument One Liner

Bagwalas

Popular Authors

Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
MATSUO BASHO

Friendship Moon Ugly View
Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
MATSUO BASHO

Drop Spring Tree
Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
MATSUO BASHO

Enough Hide Order See
A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
MATSUO BASHO

Memories Skeleton
A flute with no holes is not a flute.
MATSUO BASHO

Deep Instrument One Liner
Do not resemble me-Never be like a musk melon Cut in two identical halves.
MATSUO BASHO

Be Yourself Identity Imitation Myself Original
For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
MATSUO BASHO

Flower Food Love Poverty Togetherness
First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
MATSUO BASHO

Bridge Fall Snow
How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers.
MATSUO BASHO

Desire Flower Moon Myself
The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
MATSUO BASHO

Age Deep Destiny Forever Home Journey Life Moon Old Sun Time Travel
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
MATSUO BASHO

Day Destination Home Journey
How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
MATSUO BASHO

Face Flower God Myself See
Sadly, I part from you; Like a clam torn from its shell, I go, and autumn too.
MATSUO BASHO

Autumn Break Up End Leaving Myself Relationship Yourself
Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
MATSUO BASHO

Better Choice Leadership Life Original Poetry Reality Write
Poverty’s child – he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
MATSUO BASHO

Children Moon Poverty Start
Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
MATSUO BASHO

Oneself Solitude Sound Wind Winter

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