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Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.

Matsuo Basho

Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams.
MATSUO BASHO

Dreams Greatness Summer
The fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, “I shall be unhappy without loneliness,” shows that he made loneliness his master.
MATSUO BASHO

Beginning Lonely Master Myself Poem
Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.
MATSUO BASHO

Moon Myself Night Water
Come, butterfly It’s late- We’ve miles to go together.
MATSUO BASHO

Animal Butterfly Togetherness
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.
MATSUO BASHO

Knowledge Learning Leaving Nature Wisdom Yourself
The basis of art is change in the universe.
MATSUO BASHO

Art Change One Liner Universe
Old dark sleepy pool… Quick unexpected frog Goes plop! Watersplash!
MATSUO BASHO

Dark Expectation Old Sleep Water
Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
MATSUO BASHO

End Fan Myself Old Summer
Traveler’s heart. Never settled long in one place. Like a portable fire.
MATSUO BASHO

Fire Heart Place Travel
Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps’ nest.
MATSUO BASHO

Home Insect Rain Spring
Make the universe your companion, always bearing in mind the true nature of things-mountains and rivers, trees and grasses, and humanity-and enjoy the falling blossoms and the scattering leaves.
MATSUO BASHO

Companion Humanity Leaving Mindset Mountain Universe Wisdom Yourself
Without bitterest cold that penetrates to the very bone, how can plum blossoms send forth their fragrance all over the world?
MATSUO BASHO

Bone Cold Deep Fragrance Nature Perfume World
Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
MATSUO BASHO

Insect Old Pond Sing Winter
When I speak My lips feel cold – The autumn wind.
MATSUO BASHO

Autumn Cold Feeling Lips Myself Talk Voice Wind
Don’t imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.
MATSUO BASHO

Fruit Imitation Myself
Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
MATSUO BASHO

Better Choice Leadership Life Original Poetry Reality Write

Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.

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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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Popular Authors

More Matsuo Basho Quotes