Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
MATSUO BASHOWhy so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice… Or backyard love?
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.
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Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice.
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old – / These fields and mountains!
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The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
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Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
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Breaking the silence Of an ancient pond, A frog jumped into water – A deep resonance.
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First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
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Poverty’s child – he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
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Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams.
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Come, butterfly It’s late- We’ve miles to go together.
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With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
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No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.
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At the ancient pond the frog plunges into the sound of water.
MATSUO BASHO