With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
MATSUO BASHOAwakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
-
-
Year by year, the monkey’s mask reveals the monkey.
MATSUO BASHO -
Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
MATSUO BASHO -
A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
MATSUO BASHO -
Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
MATSUO BASHO -
Traveler’s heart. Never settled long in one place. Like a portable fire.
MATSUO BASHO -
Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count — / Festival of the Souls.
MATSUO BASHO -
Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die.
MATSUO BASHO -
Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
MATSUO BASHO -
Come, butterfly It’s late- We’ve miles to go together.
MATSUO BASHO -
The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
MATSUO BASHO -
Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
MATSUO BASHO -
On a bare branch a crow is perched – autumn evening.
MATSUO BASHO -
The journey itself is my home.
MATSUO BASHO -
The haiku that reveals seventy to eighty percent of its subject is good. Those that reveal fifty to sixty percent, we never tire of.
MATSUO BASHO -
Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams.
MATSUO BASHO