Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
MATSUO BASHOCalm and serene The sound of a cicada Penetrates the rock.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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Without bitterest cold that penetrates to the very bone, how can plum blossoms send forth their fragrance all over the world?
MATSUO BASHO -
Come, butterfly It’s late- We’ve miles to go together.
MATSUO BASHO -
Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count — / Festival of the Souls.
MATSUO BASHO -
Seek not the paths of the ancients; Seek that which the ancients sought.
MATSUO BASHO -
An autumn night – don’t think your life didn’t matter.
MATSUO BASHO -
Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams.
MATSUO BASHO -
I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.
MATSUO BASHO -
April’s air stirs in Willow-leaves, a butterfly Floats and balances.
MATSUO BASHO -
Learn how to listen as things speak for themselves.
MATSUO BASHO -
Breaking the silence Of an ancient pond, A frog jumped into water – A deep resonance.
MATSUO BASHO -
Traveler’s heart. Never settled long in one place. Like a portable fire.
MATSUO BASHO -
I hope to have gathered To repay your kindness The willow leaves Scattered in the garden.
MATSUO BASHO -
Learn the rules, and then forget them.
MATSUO BASHO -
The basis of art is change in the universe.
MATSUO BASHO -
Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
MATSUO BASHO






