Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt
—Yamaguchi Seishi,
The sky hangs low
over Karafuto,
as white as the spawning herring.
—Yamaguchi Seishi,
Green bottle flies
buzzing carrion:
did they just materialize?
—Yamaguchi Seishi,
Finally
the cicadas stopped shrilling:
calm before gale.
—Yamaguchi Seishi,
As grief becomes unbearable
someone snaps a nearby branch.
—Yamaguchi Seishi,
Graven images of long-departed gods,
dry spiritless leaves:
companions of the temple porch
—Matsuo Basho,
See: whose surviving sons
visit the ancestral graves
white-bearded, with trembling canes?
—Matsuo Basho,
Chrysanthemum petals
reveal their pale curves
shyly to the moon.
—Hisajo Sugita,
How deep this valley,
how elevated the butterfly's flight!
—Hisajo Sugita,
Echoes from the hills—
the mountain cuckoo sings as it will,
trill upon trill
—Hisajo Sugita,
Let’s arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there's no rice
—Matsuo Basho,
An ancient pond,
the frog leaps:
the silver plop and gurgle of water
—Matsuo Basho,
An ancient pond sleeps, quiet and still ...
untroubled ... until ...
suddenly a frog leaps!
—Matsuo Basho,
Big old pond,
the little frog leaps:
Kerplash!
—Matsuo Basho,
The first soft snow:
leaves of the awed jonquil
bow low
—Matsuo Basho,
Come, investigate loneliness:
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
—Matsuo Basho,
Fever-felled mid-path
my dreams resurrect, to trek
into a hollow land
—Matsuo Basho,
This snowy morning:
cries of the crow I despise
(ah, but so beautiful!)
—Matsuo Basho,
The cheerful-chirping cricket
contends gray autumn's gay,
contemptuous of frost
—Matsuo Basho,
The sea darkening,
the voices of the wild ducks:
my mysterious companions!
—Matsuo Basho,
Lightning
shatters the darkness—
the night heron's shriek
—Matsuo Basho,
As the monks sip their morning tea,
chrysanthemums quietly blossom.
—Matsuo Basho,
The sea darkens ...
yet still faintly white
the wild duck protests.
—Matsuo Basho,
Let me die
covered with flowers
and never again wake to this earthly dream!
—Ochi Etsujin,
To reveal how your heart flowers,
sway like the summer grove.
—Tagami Kikusha-Ni,
These silent summer nights
even the stars
seem to whisper.
—Kobayashi Issa,
The enormous firefly
weaves its way, this way and that,
as it passes by.
—Kobayashi Issa,
A fallen blossom
returning to its bough?
No, a butterfly!
—Arakida Moritake,
Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water ...
—Hattori Ransetsu,
Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
—Masaoki Shiki,
Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
—Masaoki Shiki,
I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama,
Will we remain parted forever?
Here at your grave:
two flowerlike butterflies
—Matsuo Basho,
These wilting August weeds?
The only remains
of warriors' ambitions ...
—Matsuo Basho,
These brown summer grasses?
The only remains
of "invincible" warriors ...
—Matsuo Basho,
An empty road
lonelier than abandonment:
this autumn evening
—Matsuo Basho,
Spring has come:
the nameless hill
lies shrouded in mist
—Matsuo Basho,
A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
autumn twilight
—Matsuo Basho,
While a cicada
sings softly
a single leaf falls ...
—Issa,
Oh, brilliant moon
is it true that even you
must rush off, tardy?
—Issa,
This world of dew
is a dewdrop world indeed;
and yet, and yet ...
—Kobayashi Issa,
Brief autumn breeze ...
she always wanted to pluck
the reddest roses
—Issa,
In our world
we walk suspended over hell
admiring flowers.
—Kobayashi Issa,
Clinging
to the plum tree:
one blossom's worth of warmth
—Hattori Ransetsu,
One leaf falls, enlightenment!
Another leaf falls,
swept away by the wind ...
—Hattori Ransetsu,
Disdaining grass,
the firefly nibbles nettles—
this is who I am.
—Takarai Kikaku,
The morning glories bloom,
mending chinks
in the old fence
—Basho,
Taming the rage
of an unrelenting sun—
autumn breeze.
—Basho,
The sun sets,
relentlessly red,
yet autumn’s in the wind.
—Basho,
As autumn deepens,
a butterfly sips
chrysanthemum dew.
—Basho,
Nothing happened!
Yesterday simply vanished
like the blowfish soup.
—Basho,
The surging sea crests around Sado ...
and above her?
An ocean of stars.
—Basho,
Revered figure!
I bow low
to the rabbit-eared Iris.
—Basho,
Come, butterfly,
it’s late
and we’ve a long way to go!
—Basho,
Nothing in the cry
of the cicadas
suggests they soon die.
—Basho,
I wish I could wash
this perishing earth
in its shimmering dew.
—Basho,
Spring!
A nameless hill
shrouded in mist.
—Basho,
Glimpsed on this high mountain trail,
delighting my heart—
wild violets
—Basho,
The bee emerging
from deep within the peony’s hairy recesses
flies off heavily, sated
—Basho,
Except for a woodpecker
tapping at a post,
the house is silent.
—Basho,
That dying cricket,
how he goes on about his life!
—Basho
Like a glorious shrine—
on these green, budding leaves,
the sun’s intense radiance.
—Basho,
A kite floats
at the same place in the sky
where yesterday it floated ...
—Yosa Buson,
Dawn!
The brilliant sun illuminates
sardine heads.
—Yosa Buson,
The pigeon's behavior
is beyond reproach,
but the mountain cuckoo's?
—Yosa Buson,
Your coolness:
the sound of the bell
departing the bell.
—Yosa Buson,
As the moon flies west
the flowers' shadows
creep eastward.
—Yosa Buson,
By such pale moonlight
even the wisteria's fragrance
seems distant.
—Yosa Buson,
On the temple’s great bronze gong
a butterfly
snoozes.
—Yosa Buson,
Hard to describe:
this light sensation of being pinched
by a butterfly!
—Yosa Buson,
In an ancient well
fish leap for mosquitoes,
a dark sound.
—Yosa Buson,
In the lingering heat
of an abandoned cowbarn
mosquitoes hum darkly.
—Yosa Buson,
Among fallen leaves,
an elderly frog.
—Yosa Buson,
The stirred morning air
ruffles the caterpillar’s
hair
—Yosa Buson,
Tender grass
forgetful of its roots
the willow
—Yosa Buson,
Intruder!—
This white plum tree
was once outside our fence!
—Yosa Buson,
Since I'm left here alone,
I'll make friends with the moon.
—Yosa Buson,
The hood-wearer
in his self-created darkness
misses the harvest moon
—Yosa Buson,
An evening breeze:
water lapping the heron’s legs.
—Yosa Buson,
On adjacent branches
the plum tree blossoms
bloom petal by petal: love!
—Yosa Buson,
The spring sea
rocks all day long:
rising and falling, ebbing and flowing ...
—Yosa Buson,
