Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die.
MATSUO BASHONothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die.
MATSUO BASHOTraveler’s heart. Never settled long in one place. Like a portable fire.
MATSUO BASHOHow much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers.
MATSUO BASHOCome, butterfly It’s late- We’ve miles to go together.
MATSUO BASHOThe fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, “I shall be unhappy without loneliness,” shows that he made loneliness his master.
MATSUO BASHOWinter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
MATSUO BASHOPoverty’s child – he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
MATSUO BASHOFriends part forever wild geese lost in cloud.
MATSUO BASHOA thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
MATSUO BASHOYear by year, the monkey’s mask reveals the monkey.
MATSUO BASHOEvery day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
MATSUO BASHOWinter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
MATSUO BASHOEvery moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
MATSUO BASHOFelling a tree and gazing at the cut end – tonight’s moon.
MATSUO BASHOThe basis of art is change in the universe.
MATSUO BASHOWhen I speak My lips feel cold – The autumn wind.
MATSUO BASHO