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.
MATSUO BASHOWhen I speak My lips feel cold – The autumn wind.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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Learn the rules, and then forget them.
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I hope to have gathered To repay your kindness The willow leaves Scattered in the garden.
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Don’t imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.
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Year’s end, all corners of this floating world, swept.
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Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count — / Festival of the Souls.
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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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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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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An autumn night – don’t think your life didn’t matter.
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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
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I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
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Come, butterfly It’s late- We’ve miles to go together.
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From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
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I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.
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Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps’ nest.
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Breaking the silence Of an ancient pond, A frog jumped into water – A deep resonance.
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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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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.
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When I speak My lips feel cold – The autumn wind.
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How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
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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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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
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When your consciousness has become ripe in true zazen-pure like clear water, like a serene mountain lake, not moved by any wind-then anything may serve as a medium for realization.
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On a bare branch a crow is perched – autumn evening.
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
MATSUO BASHO