Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
MATSUO BASHOSpring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old – / These fields and mountains!
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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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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Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
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Year’s end, all corners of this floating world, swept.
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Old dark sleepy pool… Quick unexpected frog Goes plop! Watersplash!
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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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Learn the rules, and then forget them.
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice… Or backyard love?
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The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
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Friends part forever wild geese lost in cloud.
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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This autumn- why am I growing old? bird disappearing among clouds.
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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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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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An autumn night – don’t think your life didn’t matter.
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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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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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Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
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All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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April’s air stirs in Willow-leaves, a butterfly Floats and balances.
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On a bare branch a crow is perched – autumn evening.
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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
MATSUO BASHO