black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.

Matsuo Basho

The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
MATSUO BASHO

Bright Burn Moon One Liner
Old pond, leap-splash – a frog.
MATSUO BASHO

Frog Old
A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
MATSUO BASHO

Dreams Summer Warrior
Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
MATSUO BASHO

Existence Plant Rope Twisted
Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
MATSUO BASHO

End Fan Myself Old Summer
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

Day Journey Myself Sea Wind
Make the universe your companion, always bearing in mind the true nature of things-mountains and rivers, trees and grasses, and humanity-and enjoy the falling blossoms and the scattering leaves.
MATSUO BASHO

Companion Humanity Leaving Mindset Mountain Universe Wisdom Yourself
An autumn night – don’t think your life didn’t matter.
MATSUO BASHO

Autumn Life Night Thinking Yourself
At the ancient pond the frog plunges into the sound of water.
MATSUO BASHO

Pond Sound Water
A flute with no holes is not a flute.
MATSUO BASHO

Deep Instrument One Liner
Traveler’s heart. Never settled long in one place. Like a portable fire.
MATSUO BASHO

Fire Heart Place Travel
Seek not the paths of the ancients; Seek that which the ancients sought.
MATSUO BASHO

Journey Path Seek Wisdom
Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old – / These fields and mountains!
MATSUO BASHO

Age Fresh Mountain Nature Spring Time World
I hope to have gathered To repay your kindness The willow leaves Scattered in the garden.
MATSUO BASHO

Garden Hope Kindness Pay
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

Goodness Hide Mystery Poem Reveal
Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
MATSUO BASHO

Insect Old Pond Sing Winter

Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.

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Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.

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