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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.

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Insect Old Pond Sing Winter

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On a bare branch a crow is perched – autumn evening.
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The haiku that reveals seventy to eighty percent of its subject is good. Those that reveal fifty to sixty percent, we never tire of.
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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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Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.
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Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.
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April’s air stirs in Willow-leaves, a butterfly Floats and balances.
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I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
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Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
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A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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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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All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
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The journey itself is my home.
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Learn the rules, and then forget them.
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Learn how to listen as things speak for themselves.
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Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
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Breaking the silence Of an ancient pond, A frog jumped into water – A deep resonance.
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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
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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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Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice… Or backyard love?
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Old pond, frog jumps in – plop.
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Year by year, the monkey’s mask reveals the monkey.
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The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
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Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams.
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Year’s end, all corners of this floating world, swept.
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