Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
MATSUO BASHOThe basis of art is change in the universe.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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From the pine tree, learn of the pine tree; And from the bamboo, of the bamboo.
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An autumn night – don’t think your life didn’t matter.
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I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
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Old pond, leap-splash – a frog.
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Learn how to listen as things speak for themselves.
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With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
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Don’t imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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This autumn- why am I growing old? bird disappearing among clouds.
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The basis of art is change in the universe.
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count — / Festival of the Souls.
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There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon.
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The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
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Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.
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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.
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The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
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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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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
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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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Year’s end, all corners of this floating world, swept.
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Traveler’s heart. Never settled long in one place. Like a portable fire.
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Poverty’s child – he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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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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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
MATSUO BASHO