black
grey
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Poverty’s child – he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.

Matsuo Basho

From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
MATSUO BASHO

Fall Food Tree
Friends part forever wild geese lost in cloud.
MATSUO BASHO

Cloud Forever Friendship Lost Wild
Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end – tonight’s moon.
MATSUO BASHO

Fall Moon Night Tree
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
Old dark sleepy pool… Quick unexpected frog Goes plop! Watersplash!
MATSUO BASHO

Dark Expectation Old Sleep Water
Come, butterfly It’s late- We’ve miles to go together.
MATSUO BASHO

Animal Butterfly Togetherness
On a bare branch a crow is perched – autumn evening.
MATSUO BASHO

Autumn Evening
The universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.
MATSUO BASHO

Empty Intimate Relationship Unique Universe
Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams.
MATSUO BASHO

Dreams Greatness Summer
When composing a verse let there not be a hair’s breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
MATSUO BASHO

Breathe Compose Dangerous Enemy Fall Hairs Mindset Tree Writing
Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
MATSUO BASHO

Insect Old Pond Sing Winter
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
Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
MATSUO BASHO

Better Choice Leadership Life Original Poetry Reality Write
At the ancient pond the frog plunges into the sound of water.
MATSUO BASHO

Pond Sound Water
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
MATSUO BASHO

Day Destination Home Journey
There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon.
MATSUO BASHO

Flower Moon Nature See Thinking Yourself

Poverty’s child – he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.

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Poverty’s child – he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.

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