black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.

Matsuo Basho

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
The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
MATSUO BASHO

Avoid Believe Break Desire Divine Human Myself Noise Silence Sound
When I speak My lips feel cold – The autumn wind.
MATSUO BASHO

Autumn Cold Feeling Lips Myself Talk Voice Wind
From the pine tree, learn of the pine tree; And from the bamboo, of the bamboo.
MATSUO BASHO

Knowledge Nature Tree Wisdom
The journey itself is my home.
MATSUO BASHO

Home Journey Myself
Seek not the paths of the ancients; Seek that which the ancients sought.
MATSUO BASHO

Journey Path Seek Wisdom
Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine, or to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo. And in doing so, you must leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Otherwise you impose yourself on the object and you do not learn.
MATSUO BASHO

Knowledge Learning Leaving Nature Wisdom Yourself
All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
MATSUO BASHO

Friendship Moon Ugly View
With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
MATSUO BASHO

Butterfly Change Mindset Place
On a bare branch a crow is perched – autumn evening.
MATSUO BASHO

Autumn Evening
Go to the object. Leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Do not impose yourself on the object. Become one with the object. Plunge deep enough into the object to see something like a hidden glimmering there.
MATSUO BASHO

Deep Enough Gide Leaving Object Subject Yourself
A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
MATSUO BASHO

Dreams Summer Warrior
A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
MATSUO BASHO

Memories Skeleton
The fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, “I shall be unhappy without loneliness,” shows that he made loneliness his master.
MATSUO BASHO

Beginning Lonely Master Myself Poem
Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.
MATSUO BASHO

Moon Myself Night Water
At the ancient pond the frog plunges into the sound of water.
MATSUO BASHO

Pond Sound Water

Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.

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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.

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