Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
MATSUO BASHOThe sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps’ nest.
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Year’s end, all corners of this floating world, swept.
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Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice.
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The fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, “I shall be unhappy without loneliness,” shows that he made loneliness his master.
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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
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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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An autumn night – don’t think your life didn’t matter.
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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.
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April’s air stirs in Willow-leaves, a butterfly Floats and balances.
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.
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Old pond, frog jumps in – plop.
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The basis of art is change in the universe.
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How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers.
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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
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At the ancient pond the frog plunges into the sound of water.
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Poverty’s child – he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
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Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams.
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Friends part forever wild geese lost in cloud.
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Learn the rules, and then forget them.
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The journey itself is my home.
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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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.
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Don’t imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.
MATSUO BASHO