Table of Contents

Murasaki Shikibu (973-1014) Izumi Shikibu (974-1033) Saigy Hshi (1118-1190) Ikkyu Sojun (1394-1481) Nozawa Boncho (1640-1714) Zaishiki (1642-1719) Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) Takarai Kikaku (1661-1707) Ome Shushiki (1669-1725) Yosa Buson (1716-1783)

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Takai Kito (1741-1789) Taigu Ryokan (1758-1831) Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828) Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) Kyoshi Takahama (1874-1959) Santoka Taneda (1882-1940) Kihachi Ozaki (1892-1974) Seishi Yamaguchi (1901-1994)

Murasaki Shikibu (973-1014)

Murasaki Shikibu, or Lady Murasaki as she is often known in English, was a Japanese novelist, poet, and a maid of honour of the imperial court during the Heian period. She is best known as the author of The Tale of Genji, written in Japanese between about 1000 and 1008, one of the earliest novels in human history.

From: The Tale of Genji

Lady Murasaki says: The troubled waters are frozen fast. Under clear heaven moonlight and shadow ebb and flow. Answered by Prince Genji:

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The memories of long love gather like drifting snow, poignant as the mandarin ducks who float side by side in sleep.

Meeting On The Path

Meeting on the path: But I cannot clearly know If it was he, Because the midnight moon In a cloud had disappeared.

Izumi Shikibu (974-1033)

Izumi Shikibu was a mid Heian period Japanese poet. She is a member of the Thirty-six Medieval Poetry Immortals. She was the contemporary of Murasaki Shikibu and Akazome Emon at the court of Joto Mon'in.

plum blossom
I cannot say which is which: the glowing plum blossom is the spring night's moon.

Although The Wind

Although the wind blows terribly here, the moonlight also leaks

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between the roof planks of this ruined house.

If The One I've Waited For

If the one I've waited for came now, what should I do? This morning's garden filled with snow is far too lovely for footsteps to mar.

Although I Try
Although I try to hold the single thought of Buddha's teaching in my heart, I cannot help but hear the many crickets' voices calling as well.

Watching The Moon

Watching the moon at dawn solitary, mid-sky,

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I knew myself completely, no part left out.

Saigyo Hoshi (1118-1190)

Saigyo Hoshi was a famous Japanese poet of the late Heian and early Kamakura period. Many of his best-known poems express the tension he felt between renunciatory Buddhist ideals and his love of natural beauty.

In a mountain village
In a mountain village at autumns end thats where you learn what sadness means in the blast of the wintry wind.

As banked clouds
As banked clouds are swept apart by the wind, at dawn the sudden cry

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of the first wild geese winging across the mountains.

Why Should I Be Bitter

Why should I be bitter About someone who was A complete stranger Until a certain moment In a day that has passed.

unbroken gloom.
times when unbroken gloom is over all our world over which still sits the ever brilliant moon sight of it casts me down more

Winds Of Autumn
Even in a person most times indifferent to things around him

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they waken feelings the first winds of autumn

Sunk in melancholy
Sunk in melancholy, and Gazing Upon the moon: its hue: Why is it so deeply Stained with sadness, I wonder

Well do I know myself

Well do I know myself, so Your coldness I did not think to blame, yet My bitterness has Soaked my sleeves, it seems

O, how sad
O, how sad! Why of visitors Should there be not one?

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In melancholy, where I dwell The wind comes upon the bush-clover leaves.

The moon, alone

The moon, alone, Taunts me from the heavens With memories of you; Should you feel the same, then Our hearts would be as one

Not Stopping To Mark The Trail

Not stopping to mark the trail, let me push even deeper into the mountain! Perhaps there's a place where bad news can never reach me!

There's not a trace of cloud

There's not a trace of cloud Now-and she Is in my thoughts;

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The moon and my heart Seem to waver.

limitations gone
limitations gone since my mind fixed on the moon clarity and serenity make something for which there's no end in sight

Having drifted apart

Having drifted apart, Why should folk Despise each other? For Not known and unknowing Times there were once before

Having Seen Them Long

Having seen them long, I hold the flowers so dear That when they scatter

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I find it all the more sad To bid them my last farewell.

Thought I was free

Thought I was free of passion, so this melancholy comes as surprise: a woodcock shoots up from the marsh where autumn's twilight falls.

He made no promise
He made no promise, yet Wondering if he'll come, I wait, In the early evening; If only it would stay this way, Remaining light

How wonderful
How wonderful, that Her heart Should show me kindness;

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And of all the numberless folk, Grief should not touch me.

The Monk Saigyo

Should I blame the moon For bringing forth this sadness, As if it pictured grief? Lifting up my troubled face, I regard it through my tears

Now I understand!
Now I understand! When to remember me She vowed, She said she would forget me, But kindly!

Ikkyu Sojun (1394-1481)

Ikkyu Sojun was an eccentric, iconoclastic Japanese Zen Buddhist priest and poet. He had a great impact on the infusion of Japanese art and literature with Zen attitudes and ideals.

It is nice to get a glimpse of a lady bathing

It is nice to get a glimpse of a lady bathing-You scrubbed your flower face and cleansed your lovely body While this old monk sat in the hot water, Feeling more blessed than even the emperor of China!

A Meal of Fresh Octopus

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Lots of arms, just like Kannon the Goddess; Sacrificed for me, garnished with citron, I revere it so! The taste of the sea, just divine! Sorry, Buddha, this is another precept I just cannot keep.

My Hovel
The world before my eyes is wan and wasted, just like me. The earth is decrepit, the sky stormy, all the grass withered. No spring breeze even at this late date, Just winter clouds swallowing up my tiny reed hut.

After they die

Why are people called Buddhas After they die? Because they don't grumble any more,

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Because they don't make a nuisance Of themselves any more.

I Hate Incense
A masters handiwork cannot be measured But still priests wag their tongues explaining the Way and babbling about Zen. This old monk has never cared for false piety And my nose wrinkles at the dark smell of incense before the Buddha.

Exhausted with gay pleasures

Exhausted with gay pleasures, I embrace my wife. The narrow path of asceticism is not for me: My mind runs in the opposite direction. It is easy to be glib about Zen -- Ill just keep my mouth shut And rely on love play all the day long.

A Fisherman

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Studying texts and stiff meditation can make you lose your Original Mind. A solitary tune by a fisherman, though, can be an invaluable treasure. Dusk rain on the river, the moon peeking in and out of the clouds; Elegant beyond words, he chants his songs night after night.

To Lady Mori with Deepest Gratitude and Thanks

The tree was barren of leaves but you brought a new spring. Long green sprouts, verdant flowers, fresh promise. Mori, if I ever forget my profound gratitude to you, Let me burn in hell forever.

Nozawa Boncho (1640-1714)

Nozawa Boncho was born in Kanazawa, and spent most of his life in Kyoto working as a doctor. Boncho was one of Matsuo Basho's leading disciples and, together with Kyorai, he edited the Basho school's Monkey's Raincoat (Sarumino) anthology of 1689. He participated in numerous renku with Basho and other members of his Shomon school.

The brushwood
The brushwood, Though cut for fuel, Is beginning to bud.

a shrike's cry

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a shrike's cry light slants through the red pine grove

All night the ragged

All night the ragged clouds and wind had only one companion... the moon To ranging winds companion: -- in the sky the single moon.

Frightened by a thicket
Frightened by a thicket With a frog in it Just at twilight

no wind at all

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When no wind at all disturbs the kiri tree the leaves that fall! From the paulownia without a breath of wind-falling leaves See ... the heavy leaf on the silent windless day ... falls of its own will

A razor,
A razor, Rusted in a single night,-The summer rains!

How cool cut hay smells

How cool cut hay smells when carried through the farm gate as the sun comes up

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the sun goes down

At an eagles nest on dead camphor branches the sun goes down.

Love
Love. So many different ways to have been in love. The maidservants Trying to take a peep Knock down the screen!

long river
The long, long river A single line On the snowy plain.

Around the town

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Around the town the smells of things -summer moon

a soft sound
A sound of something! The scarecrow has fallen down of itself. There is a hushed sound Of the scarecrow, fallen down Alone to the ground. a soft sound the scarecrow has fallen to the ground

Throwing away the ashes

Throwing away the ashes, The white plum-blossoms Became cloudy.

Zaishiki (1642-1719)
frost on glass
frost on grass: a fleeting form that is and is not

Matsuo Basho (1644-1694)

Matsuo Basho was the most famous poet of the Edo period in Japan. During his lifetime, Basho was recognized for his works in the collaborative haikai no renga form; today, after centuries of commentary, he is recognized as a master of brief and clear haiku. His poetry is internationally renowned, and within Japan many of his poems are reproduced on monuments and traditional sites.

With a warbler
With a warbler for a soul, it sleeps peacefully, this mountain willo

Tremble oh my gravemound

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Tremble, oh my gravemound, in time my cries will be only this autumn wind

Winter seclusion
Winter seclusion sitting propped against the same worn post

the winter leeks

The winter leeks Have been washed white -How cold it is!

crossing long fields

Crossing long fields, frozen in its saddle, my shadow creeps by

souls' festival

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souls' festival today also there is smoke from the crematory

Even that old horse

Even that old horse is something to see this snow-covered morning

The shallows
The shallows a cranes thighs splashed in cool waves

Eaten alive
Eaten alive by lice and fleas -- now the horse beside my pillow pees

On New Year's Day

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On New Year's Day each thought a loneliness as winter dusk descends

On the cow shed

On the cow shed A hard winter rain; Cock crowing.

The winter storm

The winter storm Hid in the bamboo grove And quieted away.

The butterfly
The butterfly is perfuming It's wings in the scent Of the orchid.

deep into autumn

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Deep into autumn and this caterpillar still not a butterfly

Flower
Flower under harvest sun - stranger To bird, butterfly.

The morning glories

The morning glories bloom, securing the gate in the old fence

Winter downpour
Winter downpour even the monkey needs a raincoat.

Sleep on horseback

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Sleep on horseback, The far moon in a continuing dream, Steam of roasting tea.

the warbler sings

the warbler sings among new shoots of bamboo of coming old age

Wrapping dumplings
Wrapping dumplings in bamboo leaves, with one finger she tidies her hair

Morning and evening

Morning and evening Someone waits at Matsushima! One-sided love

Petals of the mountain rose

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Petals of the mountain rose Fall now and then, To the sound of the waterfall?

Years end,
Years end, all corners of this floating world, swept.

The passing spring

The passing spring Birds mourn, Fishes weep With tearful eyes.

the whole family

the whole family all with white hair and canes visiting graves

The she cat

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The she cat Grown thin From love and barley.

under my tree-roof
under my tree-roof slanting lines of april rain separate to drops

On the white poppy

On the white poppy, a butterflys torn wing is a keepsake

This first fallen snow

This first fallen snow is barely enough to bend the jonquil leaves

I like to wash

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I like to wash, the dust of this world In the droplets of dew.

On Buddha's deathday
On Buddha's deathday, wrinkled tough old hands pray the prayer beads' sound

How wild the sea is

How wild the sea is, and over Sado Island, the River of Heaven

shaking the grave

shaking the grave my weeping voice autumn wind

Ungraciously

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Ungraciously, under a great soldier's empty helmet, a cricket sings

With every gust of wind

With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.

The petals tremble

The petals tremble on the yellow mountain rose roar of the rapids

The clouds come and go

The clouds come and go, providing a rest for all the moon viewers

From time to time

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From time to time The clouds give rest To the moon beholders..

Scarecrow in the hillock

Scarecrow in the hillock Paddy field -How unaware! How useful.

long conversations
Long conversations beside blooming irises joys of life on the road

I'm a wanderer
I'm a wanderer so let that be my name the first winter rain

Passing through the world

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Passing through the world Indeed this is just Sogi's rain shelter

The first snow

The first snow the leaves of the daffodil bending together

husking rice
husking rice a child squints up to view the moon

On this road
On this road where nobody else travels autumn nightfall

It is with awe

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It is with awe That I beheld Fresh leaves, green leaves, Bright in the sun.

The banana tree

The banana tree blown by winds pours raindrops into the bucket

Won't you come and see

Won't you come and see loneliness? Just one leaf from the kiri tree.

A weathered skeleton
A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife

Matsushima

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O Matsushima! O Matsushima! O Matsushima!

Chilling autumn rains

Chilling autumn rains curtain Mount Fuji, then make it more beautiful to see

Clouds
Clouds a chance to dodge moonviewing.

A wild sea
A wild seaIn the distance over Sado The Milky Way

Cold as it was

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Cold as it was We felt secure sleeping together In the same room.

But for a woodpecker

But for a woodpecker tapping at a post, no sound at all in the house

A cold rain starting

A cold rain starting And no hat -So?

bush-clover flowers
bush-clover flowers they sway but do not drop their beads of dew

a cuckoo cries

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a cuckoo cries and through a thicket of bamboo the late moon shines

A man infirm
A man, infirm With age, slowly sucks A fish bone.

a strange flower
a strange flower for birds and butterflies the autumn sky

Untitled
The summer grasses All that remains Of brave soldiers dreams

Haiku

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Snowy morning-one crow after another.

Haiku
scent of plum blossoms on the misty mountain path a big rising sun

As they begin to rise again

As they begin to rise again Chrysanthemums faintly smell, After the flooding rain

The Narrow Road to the Deep North: Prologue

Behind this door Now buried in deep grass A different generation will celebrate The Festival of Dolls.

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The morning glory also

The morning glory also turns out not to be my friend.

Teeth sensitive to the sand

Teeth sensitive to the sand in salad greens I'm getting old.

Midfield
Midfield, attached to nothing, the skylark singing.

Staying at an inn
Staying at an inn where prostitutes are also sleeping bush clover and the moon.

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When the winter chrysanthemums go

When the winter chrysanthemums go, there's nothing to write about but radishes.

Taking a nap
Taking a nap, feet planted against a cool wall.

Spring rain
Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps' nest.

Coolness of the melons

Coolness of the melons flecked with mud in the morning dew.

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Stillness
Stillness the cicada's cry drills into the rocks.

This old village

This old village not a single house without persimmon trees.

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

First winter rain

First winter rain even the monkey seems to want a raincoat.

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What fish feel

What fish feel, birds feel, I don't know the year ending.

Cold night: the wild duck

Cold night: the wild duck, sick, falls from the sky and sleeps awhile.

First snow
First snow falling on the half-finished bridge.

Fleas, lice
Fleas, lice, a horse peeing near my pillow.

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Blowing stones
Blowing stones along the road on Mount Asama, the autumn wind.

How admirable
How admirable! to see lightning and not think life is fleeting.

Winter solitude
Winter solitude in a world of one color the sound of wind.

Wrapping the rice cakes

Wrapping the rice cakes, with one hand she fingers back her hair.

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Moonlight slanting
Moonlight slanting through the bamboo grove; a cuckoo crying. The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.

None is travelling
None is travelling Here along this way but I, This autumn evening. The first day of the year: thoughts come - and there is loneliness; the autumn dusk is here. An old pond A frog jumps in Splash!

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Lightening Heron's cry Stabs the darkness Clouds come from time to time and bring to men a chance to rest from looking at the moon. In the cicada's cry There's no sign that can foretell How soon it must die. Poverty's child he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon. Won't you come and see loneliness? Just one leaf from the kiri tree. Temple bells die out. The fragrant blossoms remain. A perfect evening!

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Don't imitate me
Don't imitate me; it's as boring as the two halves of a melon.

First day of spring

First day of spring I keep thinking about the end of autumn.

Bush warbler
Bush warbler: shits on the rice cakes on the porch rail.

Heat waves shimmering

Heat waves shimmering one or two inches above the dead grass.

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The dragonfly
The dragonfly can't quite land on that blade of grass.

A snowy morning
A snowy morning by myself, chewing on dried salmon.

Awake at night
Awake at night the sound of the water jar cracking in the cold.

Autumn moonlight
Autumn moonlight a worm digs silently into the chestnut.

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Bittertasting ice
Bittertasting ice Just enough to wet the throat Of a sewer rat.

An Old Pond
old pond..... a frog leaps in water's sound

In this world of ours,

In this world of ours, We eat only to cast out, Sleep only to wake, And what comes after all that Is simply to die at last.

A field of cotton

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A field of cotton as if the moon had flowered.

A cool fall night

At a hermitage: A cool fall night; getting dinner, we peeled eggplants, cucumbers.

A monk sips morning tea

A monk sips morning tea, it's quiet, the chrysanthemum's flowering.

A bee
A bee staggers out of the peony.

A caterpillar

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A caterpillar, this deep in fall still not a butterfly.

A Ball of Snow
you make the fire and Ill show you something wonderful: a big ball of snow!

A cicada shell
A cicada shell; it sang itself utterly away.

Four Haiku
Spring: A hill without a name Veiled in morning mist.

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The beginning of autumn: Sea and emerald paddy Both the same green. The winds of autumn Blow: yet still green The chestnut husks. A flash of lightning: Into the gloom Goes the heron's cry.

The squid seller's call

The squid seller's call mingles with the voice of the cuckoo.

Collection of Six Haiku

Waking in the night; the lamp is low, the oil freezing.

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It has rained enough to turn the stubble on the field black. Winter rain falls on the cow-shed; a cock crows. The leeks newly washed white,how cold it is! The sea darkens; the voices of the wild ducks are faintly white. Ill on a journey; my dreams wander over a withered moor.

Basho's Death Poem

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Sick on my journey, only my dreams will wander these desolate moors

Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738)

the dawn of day on the tip of the barley leaf the frost of spring A cooling breezeand the whole sky is filled with pine-tree voices. roving dreamsover charred fields, the winds sound Watching, I wonder which poet could put down his quilla perfect moon! The stream in the valley; Stones too sing songs Under the cherry-blossoms.

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Towering alone against the autumn skymount Fuji For some reason there are long, and there are short icicles To finally know the plum, use the whole heart too, and your own nose Fleeing people, getting used to people baby sparrows True obedience: silently the flowers speak to the inner ear A voiceless flower speaks to the obedient in-listening ear

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I know well that the June rainsJust fall. Bath water Where shall I throw you? Crickets singing in the grass In the garden Whitely blooming The camellia Silent the garden where the camellia-tree opens its whiteness This autumn Ill be looking at the moon With no child on my knee The leaping trout sees far below, a few white clouds as they flow

Takarai Kikaku (1661-1707)

Takarai Kikaku, also known as Enomoto Kikaku, was a Japanese haikai poet and among the most accomplished disciples of Matsuo Basho. His father was an Edo doctor, but Kikaku chose to become a professional haikai poet rather than follow in his footsteps.

Here and there

Here and there frogs croaking in the night stars shining

The messenger
The messenger Offers a branch of plum-blossoms, And then the letter

the old messenger

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the old messenger proffering his plum-branch first... only then the letter

a summer shower
a summer shower a woman sits alone gazing outside

In flat sunset light

In flat sunset light a butterfly wandering down the city street

now the dragonflies

now the dragonflies cease their mad gyrations... a thin crescent moon

"My snow!" -- when I think that,

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"My snow!" -- when I think that, it weighs almost nothing on my umbrella-hat.

This snow is mine

This snow is mine thinking that way it seems lighter on your sedge hat

A man that eats

A man that eats his meal amidst morning glories that's what I am!

What a beautiful moon! It casts

What a beautiful moon! It casts the shadow of pine boughs upon the mats.

Nightingale's body

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Nightingale's body hanging upside down first song of the new year

Puppet
Puppet banging on a taiko drum blossom-viewing party

A waterfall of sake
A waterfall of sake and cool barley noodles rain down from heaven!

If a rich man
If a rich man is what you mean to be. Then forget the autumn evening too

As a fine horse gallops

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As a fine horse gallops 20,000 poems are houseflies scattered in the wind

Tonic for summer-heat

Tonic for summer-heat a dog licks it up and climbs the cloud peaks

A single bell
A single bell you sell at least one each day spring in Edo

A summer storm suddenly

A summer storm suddenly the one who peers outside the woman

Above the sea

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Above the sea a rainbow, erased by a flock of swallows

In the Emperor's bed,

In the Emperor's bed, the smell of burnt mosquitoes, and erotic whispers

A single yam leaf

A single yam leaf contains the entire life of a water drop

Over the long road

Over the long road the flower-bringer follows: plentiful moonlight

I begin each day

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I begin each day with breakfast greens and tea and morning glories

Riding the wide leaf

Riding the wide leaf of the banana-tree the tree-frog clings

There goes a beggar

There goes a beggar naked except for his robes of heaven and earth!

Lightning-play
Lightning-play that yesterday was in the east is in the west today

Her mate devoured

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Her mate devoured by the cat, the cricket's wife must be mourning

On Buddha's birthday
On Buddha's birthday the orphaned boy will become the temple's child

O Great Buddha,
O Great Buddha, your lap must be filling with these flowers of snow

Such a beautiful face

Such a beautiful face the pheasant scratches it with jagged spurs

Unwrap the cotton

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Unwrap the cotton they are older too faces on the hina dolls

In Kyomachi
In Kyomachi a cat prowling for love heads for Ageyamachi

The full autumn moon

The full autumn moon on this straw mat pine tree shadow

Pillars of mosquitoes
Pillars of mosquitoes a floating bridge of dreams spans across

This wooden gate

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This wooden gate shuts me out for the night winter moon

The hoarse voice of

The hoarse voice of a monkey, but its teeth are shiny white mountain peak and moon

Kagura dance at night

Kagura dance at night the performer's breath white inside his mask

Ome Shushiki (1669-1725)

Ome Shushiki was a student of Kikaku, a disciple of Basho, who made her name as a haiku poet at age thirteen, when she wrote a poem about the cherry blossoms at a temple and fastened it to the branch of a tree.

After Dream
After dream, how real the iris

The Cherry Tree

Be careful! Be careful! Of the cherry tree by the well You're drunk with sake!

Yosa Buson (1716-1783)

Yosa Buson, or Yosa no Buson, was a Japanese poet and painter from the Edo period. Along with Matsuo Basho and Kobayashi Issa, Buson is considered among the greatest poets of the Edo Period.

Running out of the nets

Running out of the nets, running out of the nets, the water, the moon

Spring rain
Spring rain: telling stories, a straw coat and umbrella walk past

Delight

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Delight of crossing a summer river, sandals in hand

light of the moon

light of the moon moves west - flowers' shadows creep eastward

A camellia drops
A camellia drops and spills yesterdays rain

Haiku
Departing spring hesitates, in the late cherry blossoms

Haiku

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The seashore temple... Incoming rollers flow in time To the holy flute.

Washing the hoe

Washing the hoe ripples on the water; far off, wild ducks.

Haiku
The winter river; down it come floating flowers offered to Buddha.

They end their flight

They end their flight one by onecrows at dusk.

a rat approaches

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a rat approaches the freezing oil of the lamp

Straw sandal half sunk

Straw sandal half sunk in an old pond in the sleety snow.

Ploughing the land

Ploughing the land not even a bird singing in the mountain's shadow.

The old man

The old man cutting barley bent like a sickle.

The willow leaves fallen

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The willow leaves fallen, the spring gone dry, rocks here and there.

The end of spring

The end of spring the poet is brooding about editors.

Old well
Old well, a fish leaps dark sound.

The behavior of the pigeon

The behavior of the pigeon is beyond reproach, but the mountain cuckoo?

Dawn

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Dawn fish the cormorants haven't caught swimming in the shallows.

My arm for a pillow

My arm for a pillow, I really like myself under the hazy moon.

Harvest moon
Harvest moon called at his house, he was digging potatoes.

Sparrow singing
Sparrow singing its tiny mouth open.

Not quite dark yet

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Not quite dark yet and the stars shining above the withered fields.

Variations on 'The short night--'

The short night on the hairy caterpillar beads of dew. The short night patrolmen washing in the river. The short night bubbles of crab froth among the river reeds. The short night a broom thrown away on the beach.

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The short night the Oi River has sunk two feet. The short night on the outskirts of the village a small shop opening. The short night broken, in the shallows, a crescent moon. The short night the peony has opened. The short night waves beating in, an abandoned fire. The short night near the pillow a screen turning silver.

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The short night shallow footprints on the beach at Yui.

Early summer rain

Early summer rain houses facing the river, two of them.

Evening wind
Evening wind: water laps the heron's legs.

The spring sea rising

The spring sea rising and falling, rising and falling all day.

Lighting one candle

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Lighting one candle with another candle spring evening.

White blossoms of the pear

White blossoms of the pear and a woman in moonlight reading a letter.

Listening to the moon

Listening to the moon, gazing at the croaking of frogs in a field of ripe rice.

Blown from the west

Blown from the west, fallen leaves gather in the east.

Buying leeks

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Buying leeks and walking home under the bare trees.

A bat flits
A bat flits in moonlight above the plum blossoms.

Blow of an ax
Blow of an ax, pine scent, the winter woods.

His Holiness the Abbot

His Holiness the Abbot is shitting in the withered fields.

Calligraphy of geese

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Calligraphy of geese against the sky the moon seals it.

He's on the porch

He's on the porch, to escape the wife and kids how hot it is!

Before the white chrysanthemum

Before the white chrysanthemum the scissors hesitate a moment.

Coolness
Coolness the sound of the bell as it leaves the bell.

Elegy to the Old Man Hokuju

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You left in the morning, at evening my heart is in a thousand pieces. Why is it so far away? Thinking of you, I go up on the hill and wander. Around the hill, why is it such a sadness? Dandelions yellow and shepherds-pu rse blooming white not anyone to look at them. I hear a pheasant, calling and calling fervently. Once a friend was there across the river, living. Ghostly smoke rises and fades away with a west wind strong in fields of small bamboo grasses and reedy fields. Nowhere to leave for.

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Once a friend was there across the river, living, but today not even a bird sings a song. You left in the morning, at evening my heart is in a thousand pieces. Why is it so far away? In my grass hut by the Amida image I light no candle, offer no flowers, and only sit here alone. This evening, how invaluable it is. Priest Buson with a thousand bowings

Hokku Poems in Four Seasons Spring

The year's first poem done, with smug self confidence a haikai poet.

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Longer has become the daytime; a pheasant is fluttering down onto the bridge. Yearning for the Bygones Lengthening days, accumulating , and recalling the days of distant past. Slowly passing days, with an echo heard here in a corner of Kyoto. The white elbow of a priest, dozing, in the dusk of spring. Into a nobleman, a fox has changed himself early evening of spring.

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The light on a candle stand is transferred to another candle spring twilight. A short nap, then awakening this spring day has darkened. Who is it for, this pillow on the floor, in the twilight of spring? The big gateway's heavy doors, standing in the dusk of spring. Hazy moonlight someone is standing among the pear trees. Blossoms on the pear tree, lighten by the moonlight, and there a woman is reading a letter.

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Springtime rain almost dark, and yet today still lingers. Springtime rain a little shell on a small beach, enough to moisten it. Springtime rain is falling, as a child's rag ball is soaking wet on the house roof.

Summer
Within the quietness of a lull in visitors' absence, appears the peony flower! Peony having scattered, two or three petals lie on one another. The rain of May facing toward the big river, houses, just two of them.

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At a Place Called Kaya in Tanba A summer river being crossed, how pleasing, with sandals in my hands! The mountain stonecutter' s chisel; being cooled in the clear water. Grasses wet in the rain, just after the festival cart passed by. To my eyes how delightful the fan of my beloved is, in complete white. A flying cuckoo, over the Heian capital, goes diagonally across the city. Evening breeze water is slapping against the legs of a blue heron.

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An old well jumping at a mosquito, the fish's sound is dark. Young bamboo trees at Hashimoto, the courtesan, is she still there or not? After having been fallen, its image still stands the peony flower. Stepping on the Eastern Slope Wild roses in bloom so like a pathway in, or toward, my home village. With sorrow while coming upon the hill flowering wild roses. Summer night ending so soon, with on the river shallows still remains the moon in a sliver.

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Autumn
It penetrates into me; stepping on the comb of my gone wife, in the bedroom. More than last year, I now feel solitude; this autumn twilight. This being alone may even be a kind of happy in the autumn dusk. Moon in the sky's top, clearly passes through this poor town street. This feeling of sadness a fishing string being blown by the autumn wind.

Winter

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Let myself go to bed; New Year's Day is only a matter for tomorrow. Camphor tree roots are quietly getting wet, in the winter rainy air. A handsaw is sounding, as if from a poor one, at midnight in this winter. Old man's love affair; in trying to forget it, a winter rainfall. In an old pond, a straw sandal is sinking it is sleeting.

Takai Kito (1741-1789)

a mountain temple
a mountain temple clear water running under the verandah moss at the sides

springtime goes away

"Marvelous!" I say, as I watch, now this, now that -and the springtime goes away. Morning glories on little feet flea bites

A tumble

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A tumble, fall, crash, then silence cats in love

Taigu Ryokan (1758-1831)

When he was eighteen years old Ryokan met the Zen Master Kokusen and accompanied him to the Entsu-Ji temple in Tamashima where he became a Buddhist monk. Ryokan excelled at his monastic studies and was offered the position of head of the monastery when Kokusen died. But he rejected both the position and the title of Master, electing to instead wander the countryside of Japan, begging and writing poetry.

To Kindle A Fire
To kindle a fire, the autumn winds have piled a few dead leaves.

begging

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today's begging is finished; at the crossroads i wander by the side of hachiman shrine talking with some children. last year, a foolish monk; this year, no change!

Down In The Village

Down in the village the din of flute and drum, here deep in the mountain everywhere the sound of the pines.

The Winds Have Died

The winds have died, but flowers go on falling; birds call, but silence penetrates each song. The Mystery! Unknowable, unlearnable. The virtue of Kannon.

The Lotus

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First blooming in the Western Paradise, The lotus has delighted us for ages. Its white petals are covered with dew, its jade green leaves spread out over the pond, And its pure fragrance perfumes the wind. Cool and majestic, it raises from the murky water. The sun sets behind the mountains But I remain in the darkness, too captivated to leave.

Orchid
Deep in the valley, a beauty hides: Serene, peerless, incomparably sweet. In the still shade of the bamboo thicket It seems to sigh softly for a lover.

The Plants And Flowers

The plants and flowers I raised about my hut I now surrender

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To the will Of the wind

Rise Above
you must rise above the gloomy clouds covering the mountaintop otherwise, how will you ever see the brightness?

You Stop To Point At The Moon In The Sky

You stop to point at the moon in the sky, but the finger's blind unless the moon is shining. One moon, one careless finger pointing -are these two things or one? The question is a pointer guiding a novice from ignorance thick as fog.

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Look deeper. The mystery calls and calls: No moon, no finger -- nothing there at all.

First Days Of Spring - The sky

First days of Spring-the sky is bright blue, the sun huge and warm. Everything's turning green. Carrying my monk's bowl, I walk to the village to beg for my daily meal. The children spot me at the temple gate and happily crowd around, dragging to my arms till I stop. I put my bowl on a white rock, hang my bag on a branch. First we braid grasses and play tug-of-war, then we take turns singing and keeping a kickball in the air: I kick the ball and they sing, they kick and I sing. Time is forgotten, the hours fly. People passing by point at me and laugh:

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"Why are you acting like such a fool?" I nod my head and don't answer. I could say something, but why? Do you want to know what's in my heart? From the beginning of time: just this! just this!

The Thief Left It Behind

The thief left it behind: the moon at my window.

You Do Not Need Many Things

My house is buried in the deepest recess of the forest Every year, ivy vines grow longer than the year before. Undisturbed by the affairs of the world I live at ease, Woodmens singing rarely reaching me through the trees. While the sun stays in the sky, I mend my torn

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clothes And facing the moon, I read holy texts aloud to myself. Let me drop a word of advice for believers of my faith. To enjoy lifes immensity, you do not need many things.

White Hair
Though frost come down, Night after night What does it matter? They melt in the morning sun. Though the snow falls Each passing year, What does it matter? With spring days it thaws. Yet once let them settle On a mans head, Fall and pile upThen the New Year

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May come and go, But never youll see them fade away.

This World
This world A fading Mountain echo Void and Unreal Within A light snow Three Thousand Realms Within those realms Light snow falls As the snow Engulfs my hut At dusk My heart, too Is completely consumed

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Dreams
in this dream world we doze and talk of dreams -dream, dream on, as much as you wish

The Way Of The Holy Fool

At the crossroads this year, after begging all day I lingered at the village temple. Children gather round me and whisper, "The crazy monk has come back to play."

At Master Do's Country House

Two miles from town, I meet an old woodcutter and we travel the road lined with huge pines.

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The smell of wild plum blossoms drifts across the valley. My walking stick has brought us home. In the ancient pond huge, contented fish. Long sunbeams penetrate the deep woods. And in the house a long bed all covered with poetry books. I loosen my belt and robes, copy phrase after phrase for my poems. At twilight, I walk to the east wing spring quail startle into the air. Tramping for miles I come upon a farm house as the great ball of sun sets in the forest. Sparrows gather near a bamboo thicket, flutter about in the closing dark. From across a field comes a farmer who calls a greeting from afar. He tells his wife to strain their cloudy wine and treats me to his garden's feast. Sitting across table we drink each other's health

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our talk rising to the heavens. Both of us are so tipsy and happy we forget the rules of this world. Too confused to ever earn a living I've learned to let things have their way. With only three handfuls of rice in my bag and a few branches by my fireside I pursue neither right or wrong and forget worldly fortune and fame. This damp night under a grassy roof I stretch out my legs without regrets.

Slopes Of Mount Kugami

Slopes of Mount Kugami in the mountain's shade a hut beneath the trees how many years it's been my home? The time comes to take leave of it

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my thoughts wilt like summer grasses, I wander back and forth like the evening star till that hut of mine is hidden from sight, till that grove of trees can no longer be seen, at each bend of the long road, at every turning, I turn to look back in the direction of that mountain.

Reply To A Friend
In stubborn stupidity, I live on alone befriended by trees and herbs. Too lazy to learn right from wrong, I laugh at myself, ignoring others. Lifting my bony shanks, I cross the stream, a sack in my hand, blessed by spring weather.

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Living thus, I want for nothing, at peace with all the world. Your finger points to the moon, but the finger is blind until the moon appears. What connection has moon and finger? Are they separate objects or bound? This is a question for beginners wrapped in seas of ignorance. Yet one who looks beyond metaphor knows there is no finger; there is no moon.

Stretched Out
Stretched out, Tipsy, Under the vast sky: Splendid dreams Beneath the cherry blossoms.

No Luck Today On My Mendicant Rounds

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No luck today on my mendicant rounds; From village to village I dragged myself. At sunset I find myself with miles of mountains between me and my hut. The wind tears at my frail body, And my little bowl looks so forlorn -Yes this is my chosen path that guides me Through disappointment and pain, cold and hunger.

Midsummer
Midsummer -I walk about with my staff. Old farmers spot me And call me over for a drink. We sit in the fields using leaves for plates. Pleasantly drunk and so happy I drift off peacefully Sprawled out on a paddy bank.

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For Children Killed In A Smallpox Epidemic

When spring arrives From every tree tip Flowers will bloom, But those children Who fell with last autumns leaves Will never return.

Returning To My Native Village

Returning to my native village after many years absence: I'll I put up at a country inn and listen to the rain. One robe, one bowl is all I have. I light incense and strain to sit in meditation; All night a steady drizzle outside the dark window -Inside, poignant memories of these long years of pilgrimage.

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Three Thousand Worlds

The Three Thousand Worlds that step forward with the light snow, and the light snow that falls in those Three Thousand Worlds

Have You Forgotten Me

have you forgotten me or lost the path here? i wait for you all day, every day but you do not appear.

The Wind Has Settled

The wind has settled, the blossoms have fallen; Birds sing, the mountains grow dark -This is the wondrous power of Buddhism.

Like The Little Stream

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Like the little stream Making its way Through the mossy crevices I, too, quietly Turn clear and transparent.

No Mind
With no mind, flowers lure the butterfly; With no mind, the butterfly visits the blossoms. Yet when flowers bloom, the butterfly comes; When the butterfly comes, the flowers bloom.

Yes, Im Truly A Dunce

Yes, Im truly a dunce Living among trees and plants. Please dont question me about illusion and enlightenment --

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This old fellow just likes to smile to himself. I wade across streams with bony legs, And carry a bag about in fine spring weather. Thats my life, And the world owes me nothing.

In The Morning
In the morning, bowing to all; In the evening, bowing to all. Respecting others is my only duty-Hail to the Never-despising Bodhisattva. In heaven and earth he stands alone. A real monk Needs Only one thing-a heart like Never-despising Buddha.

In My Youth I Put Aside My Studies

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In my youth I put aside my studies And I aspired to be a saint. Living austerely as a mendicant monk, I wandered here and there for many springs. Finally I returned home to settle under a craggy peak. I live peacefully in a grass hut, Listening to the birds for music. Clouds are my best neighbors. Below a pure spring where I refresh body and mind; Above, towering pines and oaks that provide shade and brushwood. Free, so free, day after day -I never want to leave!

Too Lazy To Be Ambitious

Too lazy to be ambitious, I let the world take care of itself. Ten days' worth of rice in my bag; a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.

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Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment? Listening to the night rain on my roof, I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

How Can I Possibly Sleep

How can I possibly sleep This moonlit evening? Come, my friends, Lets sing and dance All night long.

When All Thoughts

When all thoughts Are exhausted I slip into the woods And gather A pile of shepherds purse.

In A Dilapidated Three-Room Hut

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In a dilapidated three-room hut Ive grown old and tired; This winter cold is the Worst Ive ever suffered through. I sip thin gruel, waiting for the Freezing night to pass. Can I last until spring finally arrives? Unable to beg for rice, How will I survive the chill? Even meditation helps no longer; Nothing left to do but compose poems In memory of deceased friends.

When I Was A Lad

When I was a lad, I sauntered about town as a gay blade, Sporting a cloak of the softest down, And mounted on a splendid chestnut-coloured horse. During the day, I galloped to the city; At night, I got drunk on peach blossoms by the

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river. I never cared about returning home, Usually ending up, with a big smile on my face, at a pleasure pavilion!

Wild Roses
Wild roses, Plucked from fields Full of croaking frogs: Float them in your wine And enjoy every minute!

Teishin
When, when? I sighed. The one I longed for Has finally come; With her now, I have all that I need.

My Cracked Wooden Bowl

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This treasure was discovered in a bamboo thicket -I washed the bowl in a spring and then mended it. After morning meditation, I take my gruel in it; At night, it serves me soup or rice. Cracked, worn, weather-beaten, and misshapen But still of noble stock!

Blending With The Wind

Blending with the wind, Snow falls; Blending with the snow, The wind blows. By the hearth I stretch out my legs, Idling my time away Confined in this hut. Counting the days,

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I find that February, too, Has come and gone Like a dream.

My legacy
My legacy -What will it be? Flowers in spring, The cuckoo in summer, And the crimson maples Of autumn...

To My Teacher
An old grave hidden away at the foot of a deserted hill, Overrun with rank weeds growing unchecked year after year; There is no one left to tend the tomb, And only an occasional woodcutter passes by. Once I was his pupil, a youth with shaggy hair, Learning deeply from him by the Narrow

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River. One morning I set off on my solitary journey And the years passed between us in silence. Now I have returned to find him at rest here; How can I honor his departed spirit? I pour a dipper of pure water over his tombstone And offer a silent prayer. The sun suddenly disappears behind the hill And Im enveloped by the roar of the wind in the pines. I try to pull myself away but cannot; A flood of tears soaks my sleeves.

At Dusk
at dusk i often climb to the peak of kugami. deer bellow, their voices soaked up by

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piles of maple leaves lying undisturbed at the foot of the mountain.

I Watch People In The World

I watch people in the world Throw away their lives lusting after things, Never able to satisfy their desires, Falling into deeper despair And torturing themselves. Even if they get what they want How long will they be able to enjoy it? For one heavenly pleasure They suffer ten torments of hell, Binding themselves more firmly to the grindstone. Such people are like monkeys Frantically grasping for the moon in the water And then falling into a whirlpool. How endlessly those caught up in the floating world suffer.

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Despite myself, I fret over them all night And cannot staunch my flow of tears.

Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828)

Kobayashi Issa, was a Japanese poet known for his haiku poems and journals. He is regarded as one of the four haiku masters in Japan, along with Basho, Buson and Shiki. Reflecting the popularity and interest in Issa as man and poet, Japanese books on Issa outnumber those on Buson, and almost equal those on Basho.

Oh snail
Oh snail, climb Mt. Fuji, but slowly, slowly

a world of dew
The world of dew is, yes, a world of dew, but even so

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With my father
With my father I would watch dawn over green fields.

Under my house
Under my house an inchworm measuring the joists.

Seen
Seen through a telescope: ten cents worth of fog.

Not very anxious

Not very anxious to bloom, my plum tree.

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Under the image of Buddha

Under the image of Buddha all these spring flowers seem a little tiresome.

This moth saw brightness

This moth saw brightness in a woman's chamber burnt to a crisp.

Visiting the graves

Visiting the graves, the old dog leads the way.

The crow
The crow walks along there as if it were tilling the field.

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Not knowing
Not knowing it's a tub they're in the fish cooling at the gate.

That wren
That wren looking here, looking there. You lose something?

That pretty girl

That pretty girl munching and rustling the wrapped-up rice cake.

These sea slugs

These sea slugs they just don't seem Japanese.

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The man pulling radishes

The man pulling radishes pointed my way with a radish.

What a strange thing

What a strange thing! to be alive beneath cherry blossoms.

Pissing in the snow

Pissing in the snow outside my door it makes a very straight hole.

My dear old village

My dear old village, every memory of home pierces like a thorn

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In the thicket's shade

In the thicket's shade a woman by herself singing the rice-planting song.

No doubt about it
No doubt about it, the mountain cuckoo is a crybaby.

The moon tonight

The moon tonight I even miss her grumbling.

Face of the spring moon

Face of the spring moon about twelve years old, I'd say.

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Summer night
Summer night even the stars are whispering to each other.

It once happened
It once happened that a child was spared punishment through earnest solicitation.

Last time, I think

Last time, I think, I'll brush the flies from my father's face.

New Year's Day

New Year's Day everything is in blossom! I feel about average.

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Windy fall
At my daughter's grave, thirty days after her death: Windy fall these are the scarlet flowers she liked to pick.

Even on the smallest islands

Even on the smallest islands, they are tilling the fields, skylarks singing.

Napped half the day

Napped half the day; no one punished me!

Hey, sparrow!

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Hey, sparrow! out of the way, Horse is coming.

How much
How much are you enjoying yourself, tiger moth?

I'm going out

I'm going out, flies, so relax, make love.

New Year's morning

New Year's morning: the ducks on the pond quack and quack.

Even with insects

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Even with insects some can sing, some can't.

In this world
In this world we walk on the roof of hell, gazing at flowers.

In these latter-day
In these latter-day, Degenerate times, Cherry-blossoms everywhere!

In spring rain
In spring rain a pretty girl yawning.

The pheasant cries

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The pheasant cries as if it just noticed the mountain.

The snow is melting

The snow is melting and the village is flooded with children.

Don't know about the people

Approaching my village: Don't know about the people, but all the scarecrows are crooked.

Napping at midday
Napping at midday I hear the song of rice planters and feel ashamed of myself.

Blossoms at night

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Blossoms at night, and the faces of people moved by music.

A bath when you're born

His death poem: A bath when you're born, a bath when you die, how stupid.

The toad! It looks like

The toad! It looks like it could belch a cloud.

Children imitating cormorants

Children imitating cormorants are even more wonderful than cormorants.

Ducks bobbing on the water

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Ducks bobbing on the water are they also, tonight, hoping to get lucky?

A huge frog and I

A huge frog and I, staring at each other, neither of us moves.

Having slept, the cat gets up

Having slept, the cat gets up, yawns, goes out to make love.

A cuckoo sings
A cuckoo sings to me, to the mountain, to me, to the mountain.

Don't worry, spiders

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Don't worry, spiders, I keep house casually.

Asked how old he was

Asked how old he was, the boy in the new kimono stretched out all five fingers.

About new snow

Writing shit about new snow for the rich is not art.

Don't Kill That Fly!

Look, don't kill that fly! It is making a prayer to you By rubbing its hands and feet.

All the time I pray to Buddha

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All the time I pray to Buddha I keep on killing mosquitoes.

Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902)

Shiki was born in Matsuyama on September 17, 1867 to Tsunenao, a low ranking samurai and Yae the daughter of Oharo Kanzan, a teacher at the feudal clan school. His real name was Tsunenori, but he was called Noboru as a child. Shiki, lost his father at the age of five and Kanzan took over his education and educated him in the Chinese Classics.

the tree cut

the tree cut, dawn breaks early at my little window

Winter moonlight

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Winter moonlight; The shadow of the stone pagoda, The shadow of the pine-tree.

just outside the gate

just outside the gate the road slopes downward winter trees

the sky draws near

the sky draws near such a bright sunrise New Year's Day

the castle
spring breeze show off the castle above the pine tree

behind the stand

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behind the stand of winter trees a red sunset

I want to sleep
I want to sleep Swat the flies Softly, please.

lights
lights far way, through leaves of dense autumnal tints

fanning out its tail

fanning out its tail in the spring breeze, see-a peacock!

following

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following clouds torn apart autumn wind

looking down I see

looking down I see, cool in the moonlight, 4000 houses

Evening snow falling

Evening snow falling, a pair of mandarin ducks on an ancient lake.

It is cold
It is cold, but we have sake and the hot spring

Devotion to the Great Saint

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Devotion to the Great Saint, the temple of Ishite rice plants abloom.

With a bull on board

With a bull on board, the ferry boat, through the winter rain.

The summer river

The summer river: although there is a bridge, my horse goes through the water.

Matsuyama castle
Matsuyama castle the keep is higher than the autumn sky

New Year's Day

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New Year's Day has come quiet streets

The year begins

The year begins on New Year's day our life is Now

in the coolness
in the coolness gods and Buddhas dwell as neighbors

snow's falling
snow's falling! I see it through a hole in the shutter

how much longer

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how much longer is my life? a brief night

By the ruined mansion

By the ruined mansion, Fowls roaming Among the hibiscus

Full sail
Full sail, reefed sail how far do you go? fresh summer gale

One by one
One by one letting the cool breeze through: finger holes of the flute

lifting my head

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lifting my head, I look now and thenthe garden clover

the wallet
the wallet by the bed is my autumn brocade

my remaining days
my remaining days are numbered a brief night

the setting sun

the setting sun remains on the mountain castle flowering rice

fortune

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(Alas my) fortune; drawing divine lots, the autumn wind.

the gourd flowers bloom

the gourd flowers bloom, but look-here lies a phlegm-stuffed Buddha!

even snake gourds

hey!-even snake gourds become Buddhasdon't get caught behind!

I sink my teeth
I sink my teeth into a ripe persimmonit dribbles down my beard

The desolation of winter

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The desolation of winter; passing through a small hamlet, a dog barks.

Fallen leaves
Fallen leaves Come flying from elsewhere: Autumn is ending.

We cannot see
We cannot see even the moon. And rise big waves.

castle hill
castle hill high above breezy green

It's a boy

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It's a boy after five daughters carp streamers

New Year's greetings

New Year's greetings with a plum branch in hand

it's drizzling
it's drizzling devil's tongue, cold on my belly button

The tepid rain

The tepid rain falls On the bare thorn.

through a growth

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through a growth of weeds runs an open path baseball diamond

May rain
May rain falls as if falling into a sleep

old garden-she empties

old garden-she empties a hot-water bottle under the moon

cockscombs
cockscombs must be 14, or 15

I thought I felt

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I thought I felt a dewdrop on me as I lay in bed

chestnut rice
chestnut ricethough a sick man, still a glutton

The dead body

The dead body Of a trodden-on crab, This autumn morning

Mountains in spring
Mountains in spring overlapping each other all round

my fate

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my fate, a fortune tells - autumn wind

the bright moon

the bright moon I wonder where the clouds are flying off to

Weary of reading
Weary of reading I go out into a field a hazy field

getting a shave
getting a shave! on a day when Ueno's bell is blurred by haze

the peony seems

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the peony seems to think itself Yokihi as she awakes

surprise
surprise! a moonflower fellmidnight sound

My hometown
My hometown wherever I look mountains laugh with vendure

blooming azaleas
blooming azaleas in a hollow on a cliff a Buddha stands

summer storm

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summer storm white paper on the desk all flies away

summer mountain
summer mountain all creatures are green a red bridge

coldness
coldness looking down from above Matsuyama Castle

Facing away from me

Facing away from me Darning old tabi My wife.

in the coolness

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in the coolness of the empty sixth-month sky the cuckoo's cry. minazuki no kok ni suzushi hototogisu

How cool it is
How cool it is! A small crab, in the rain, Climbs on a pine.

relieved of a burden
relieved of a burden in the everyday life an afternoon nap

hydrangeas (2)

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hydrangeas rain splashing upon the crumbling walls

The wild geese

The wild geese take flight Low along the railroad tracks In the moonlight night

Having felled
Having felled A pasania tree,the sky of autumn.

The cannon rolls

The cannon rolls its rumble. Leaf buds of a tree.

sounds of a temple bell

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sounds of a temple bell reverberate in a circle a long night

winter camellia
winter camellia I wish I could offer it to the sooty Buddha

the stars vanished

the stars vanished and then five-colored New Year's mist

Mi-no-ue ya
Mi-no-ue ya mi-kuji o hikeba aki no kaze.

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the moon is cool

the moon is coolfrogs' croaking wells up

crimson plum blossoms

crimson plum blossoms scattered over the loneliness of the bed

fallen petals
fallen petals of the crimson plum I pluck from the tatami

Buddha-death
Buddha-death: the moonflower's face, the snake gourd's fart

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The luffa flowered

The luffa flowered. I am a soul Choked with phlegm.

Mountains are
Mountains are yellow green, pale yellowa cuckoo cries

Haiku 11
rice reaping no smoke rising from the cremation ground today

Oppressive heat
Oppressive heat My whirling mind Listens to the peals of thunder.

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the pear blossoming

the pear blossoming after the battle this ruined house

pine and cypress

pine and cypress: in a withered field, a shrine to Fudo

the nettle nuts are falling

the nettle nuts are falling the little girls next door don't visit me these days

Only the gate

Only the gate of the abbey is left, on the winter moor.

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biting into a bitter weed

biting into a bitter weed alone I bear my feelings

Ten year's sweat

Ten year's sweat washed away back at Dogo Onsen

something in my breast
the bright moon something in my breast I am alone

New Year's decoration

New Year's decoration the table with my inkstone becomes narrow

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I turn my back
I turn my back on Buddha and face the cool moon

open the shutter

open the shutter! I'll just have a look at Ueno's snow!

Spring frost
Spring frost dancing in the air a shimmer of heat

at the root
at the root of a pine tree light lavender violet

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cherry blossom petals

cherry blossom petals blown by the spring breeze against the undried wall

Locusts fly low

Locusts fly low over the levee in the fading sunshine

hometown
hometown festivals are over flavorful persimmons

crimson sunset
crimson sunset even through clouds vernal equinox

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Pain from coughing

Pain from coughing the long night's lamp flame small as a pea

My heart
My heart withering in winter only the hokku

entangled with
entangled with the scattering cherry blossomsthe wings of birds!

pruning a rose
pruning a rose sound of the scissors on a bright May day

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Namu Daishi
Namu Daishi Ishite no tera ya ine no hana.

The snake gourd blossoms

The snake gourd blossoms. My throat blocked with phlegm, I am already a Buddha.

The storm
The storm During half-day Has broken the stem of mallow.

my hometown

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my hometown many cousinspeach blossoms

I am going
I am going you're staying two autumns for us

morning coolness
morning coolness purple clouds are vanishing

Oh, autumn
Oh, autumn in the boundless world! its traces

rice reaping

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rice reapingno smoke rising from the cremation ground today

my hometown
my hometown parents are well taste of sushi

sponge gourd has

sponge gourd has bloomed choked by phlegm a departed soul

clouds're running past

clouds're running past running after clouds the Storm Day

autumn is leaving

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autumn is leaving tugging each others' branches two pine trees

One fell
One fell,two fell,camellias.

Haiku 08
I turn my back on Buddha and face the cool moon

Thawed out pond

Thawed out pond. A shrimp moves Among old algae.

stillness

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stillness - fireflies are glowing over deep water

on a stormy night
on a stormy night while reading a letter wavering mind

When the loofah bloomed

When the loofah bloomed He choked on phlegm And died.

The Great Buddha

The Great Buddha sinking in its whiteness: cherry blossom cloud

rowing through

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rowing through out of the mist the wide sea

wisteria plumes
wisteria plumes sweep the earth, and soon the rains will fall

spring breeze
spring breeze show off the castle above the pine tree

Autumn wind
Autumn wind met, returning alive you and me

with advancing autumn

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with advancing autumn I am without gods without Buddha

perching on a mud wall

perching on a mud wall in the spring rain a crow

two rainbows
two rainbows have risen over the green paddy field

peeling a pear
peeling a pear sweet drops dripping along the knife edge

splitting wood

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splitting wood my sister alone wintering

Haiku 12
old gardenshe empties a hot-water bottle under the moon

wheat sowing
wheat sowingthe mulberry trees lift bunched branches

rice flowers
rice flowersfair weather on Dokanyama

two or three rocks

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two or three rocks strewn about dried up field

Haiku 09
the moon is cool frogs' croaking wells up

Smoke whirls
Smoke whirls After the passage of a train. Young foliage.

Horyuji
I bite into a persimmon and a bell resoundsHoryuji

On the sandy beach

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On the sandy beach, footprints: long is the spring day.

Tanka 02
the plaintain at the veranda's edge unfolds its coiled leaves, its jewels, and veils the water basin in five feet of green

Tanka 08
to every needle of the needled pine it clings the pearl white dew, forming but to scatter, scattering but to form

Double cherry blossoms

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Double cherry blossoms Flutter in the wind One petal after another.

Night
Night; and once again, the while I wait for you, cold wind turns into rain.

leaving me
leaving me something on my chest tears on my mosquito net

hydrangeas
hydrangeas pale blue in the rain blue in the moonlight

Moon and plum blossoms

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Moon and plum blossoms: night after night they come closer

Tanka 07
on the pine needles, each of the slender needles, a dewdrop rests a thousand pearls lie quivering, yet never fall

Haiku 10
fanning out its tail in the spring breeze, seea peacock!

On how to sing
On how to sing the frog school and the skylark school are arguing.

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purple unto
purple unto blackness: grapes!

The singing stopped

The singing stopped a flying cicada I saw it!

coolness
coolnessa mountain stream splashes out between houses

moon at twilight
moon at twilight, a cluster of petals falling from the cherry tree

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Tanka 04
In the spring chill, as I slept with sword by pillow, deep at night my little sister came to me in dreams from home.

loneliness
loneliness after the fireworks stars' shooting

looking
looking through three thousand haiku eating two persimmons

For love and for hate

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For love and for hate I swat a fly and offer it to an ant.

Tanka 11
I remember plucking buds of bush clover long ago with Satsuma geta on my feet and a walking stick in my hand

Tanka 12
in memory of the spring now passing I drew the long clusters of wisteria that move like waves

Lotus leaves in the pond

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Lotus leaves in the pond Ride on water. Rain in June.

Haiku 05
entangled with the scattering cherry blossoms the wings of birds!

Tanka 06
the bucket's water poured out and gone, drop by drop dew drips like pearls from the autumn flowers

Haiku 06
wheat sowing the mulberry trees lift bunched branches

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Tanka 09
two feet tall, the crimson-budded roses, their young thorns tender in the soft spring rain

at the front gate

at the front gate dropping their heads lilies blooming

A stray cat
A stray cat excreting in the winter garden.

almost black

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almost black deepening purple ripe grapes

again and again

again and again I ask how high the snow is

an old pond
an old pondfloating upside down a cicada's shell

an iris
an iris whiter at twilight My hometown

Asleep in a boat

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Asleep in a boat I lie side by side with it: the River of Heaven

Haiku 03
scatter layer by layer, eight-layered cherry blossoms!

at the full moon's

at the full moon's rising, the silver-plumed reeds tremble

A spring day
A spring day A long line of footprints On the sandy beach.

A mountain village

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A mountain village under the pilled-up snow the sound of water.

At the gate
At the gate Under the oak the shoots So luxuriant.

aiming
aiming at deutzia blossoms little cuckoo

Above a hollow
Above a hollow of rock An ivy hangs. One small temple.

Haiku 07

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in the coolness gods and Buddhas dwell as neighbors

a snail
a snail luring rain clouds with feeler tips

one spoonful
one spoonful of ice cream brings me back to life

at nightfall
at nightfall a summer moon, white on the white sail

After killing

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After killing a spider, how lonely I feel in the cold of night!

a yellow green spider

a yellow green spider crawling on a red rose

a jumble
a jumble of flowers plantedsee, the little garden!

Now and again

Now and again it turns to hail; the wind is strong.

Haiku 01

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In the coolness of the empty sixth-month sky the cuckoo's cry.

Haiku 04
at the full moon's rising, the silver-plumed reeds tremble

all I can think of

all I can think of is being sick in bed and snowbound

A lightning flash
A lightning flash: between the forest trees I have seen water.

an evening breeze

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an evening breeze white rose petals are all ruggled

a fancy-free cat
a fancy-free cat is about to catch a quail

A Willow
A willow; and two or three cows waiting for the boat.

a quart of phlegm
a quart of phlegmeven gourd water couldn't mop it up

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tan itto hechima no mizu mo ma ni awazu

a cock crows
a cock crows at the foot of the small Mt. Fuji peach blossoms

Tanka 01
curtains drawn, the emperor's love still lies abed on crimson peonies, the morning sun shines

Tanka 05
saw the country and returnednow deep at night I lie in bed and

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fields of mustard flowers bloom before my eyes

Haiku 13
spring rain: browsing under an umbrella at the picture-book store

A light
A light newly lit first winter drizzle

One canary escaped

One canary escaped: the spring day is at its end.

Under the moonlight

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Under the moonlight, cuckoo cried as if it coughed up blood. The sad voice kept me waking up, the cry reminded me of my old home town far away.

the gourd water

they didn't gather gourd water day before yesterday either

A hundred labourers
A hundred labourers digging earth the long day

Tanka 10
I do not know the day my pain will end yet in the little garden

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I had them plant seeds of autumn flowers

a dog howling
a dog howling sound of footsteps longer nights

Haiku 02
the tree cut, dawn breaks early at my little window

green in the field

green in the field was pounded into rice cake

Tanka 03

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The man I used to meet in the mirror is no more. Now I see a wasted face. It dribbles tears.

a hollyhock
a hollyhock shot up to meet the summer solstice

Kyoshi Takahama (1874-1959)

Kyoshi Takahama was a Japanese poet active in Showa period Japan. He was one of the closest disciples of Masaoka Shiki.

a snake slipped away

a snake slipped away. only his eyes having looked at me remain in grass.

when a thing is placed

when a thing is placed a shadow of autumn appears there.

evening shades are thick

evening shades are thick also in the floating algae.

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on the surface
on the surface of the spring beach a circle is largely drawn.

a dog is sleeping
a dog is sleeping holding its head between the legs. house of chrysanthemums.

comes the first butterfly

comes the first butterfly of the year. "which colour?" "yellow."

i look at the river

i look at the river. a banana skin falls from my hand.

i caught a petal

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i caught a petal fallen from cherry tree in my hand. opening the fist i find nothing there

they call this flower white peony

they call this flower white peony. yes, but a little red.

girls take sprouts of rice

girls take sprouts of rice. reflection of water flickers on backs of sedge hats.

roots of a large summer tree

roots of a large summer tree on a rock extend in all directions.

Santoka Taneda (1882-1940)

Santoka Taneda deserted his family and society and lived his life in pilgrimage. He united himself with nature and composed haiku's throughout his life. It is said that he wrote over 84,000 haikus during his lifetime.

Wet with morning dew

Wet with morning dew I go in the direction I want

breeze
the breeze from the mountains in the wind bell makes me want to live

there is nothing else I can do

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there is nothing else I can do; I walk on and on

looking at the mountains

looking at the mountains all day no need to put on my kasa

dragon flies
The dragon flies perch on my kasa as I walk along

No more houses
No more houses to beg from; the clouds cover the mountains

The wind in the pines

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The wind in the pines morning and evening carries the sound of the temple bell

on the water
on the water the reflection of a wanderer

going deeper
going deeper and still deeper the green mountains

torn and tattered

Daily torn and tattered turning to shreds my robe for travelling

mountains

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"Westerners like to conquer mountains; Orientals like to contemplate them. As for me, I like to taste the mountains."

slapping
slapping at the flies slapping at the mosquitoes slapping at myself

sunset
it may be sunset but still there is no inn shrikes sing

if I sell my rags
if I sell my rags and buy some sake will there still be loneliness

Darkness

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Darkness wet with the sound of the waves

silently
silently I put on todays straw sandals

slightly tips
slightly tips ; the leaves fall one by one

ashes
these few ashes are all that remain of my diary?

I have no home

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I have no home autumn deepens

Milky Way
the milky way at midnight a drunkard dances

sleeping
sleeping on a soft futon I dream of my native village

unknown road
today again, soaking wet I walk on an unknown road

daybreak

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daybreak alone I warm myself in the waters of the hot spring

heart
my heart is weary the mountains, the sea are too beautiful

picking
picking the nameless flower I offer it to buddha

alone
alone listening to a woodpecker

the beauty of the sunset

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yuyake no utsukushisa wa oi o nageku demo naku the beauty of the sunset shows no grief for old age

flowing with water

flowing with water I walked down to the village the sunlight freely reflects off my freshly shaven head within life and death snow falls ceaselessly I walk in the winds brightness and darkness

It's likely to be able to pass away

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It's likely to be able to pass away In a calm frame of mind In the fresh green grasses

The morning sky is perfectly clear

The morning sky is perfectly clear A gently flowing cloud is in a straight line The color of sunset is very beautiful I have just spent modestly my times of today

Kihachi Ozaki (1892-1974)

Kihachi Ozaki was a Japanese poet active in Showa period Japan.

Winter Field
Now, over the field, evening hangs suspended like a gigantic harp. Frost binds the ridges solemnly severed furrow from furrow; the long harp-sound of the wind runs by, one first white star strikes the highest note. Winter fades widely, widely like an ancient; though spring is yet far away presentiments already hover between heaven and earth.

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I step on this late earth that is growing dark and throw seeds from my hand overflowing like the evening sun and heavy because of faith in seeds. They sink like stuff that serves deeply, to transform the nights under the ground and enlighten gradually the far daybreak. A pure and clear condensation is felt. Now, within the greyish silence around, my being is a reverent anthem. And already hearing (the harvest field like a festival, burning noon kingfisher colored) June like the sea. Frequently I am impelled to stand still, as though to authenticate the distance to an object. That distance is being replenished,

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behold, by thick whirlwinds and billions of air particles. Yesterday I watched smoke of field fires ascend from several places of this plateau, today listen to faint birds in a forest of fallen leaves. For ten days I have not heard news of the city, undulations of fields and mountains where clouds gather and narrow pathways run through blue-green withered grasses and occasional trains descend a ravine shouldering cliffs and. . . Yes, existing clear and separate from each other, being strong indeed in their final essence and fate, aspects of objects always express their own most proper splendors.

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In this way, being entirely alone, to all phenomena of the world I give praise for original corresponding splendors.

A Word
I have to select a word for material. It should be talked about in the smallest possible amount and have a deep suggestiveness like nature, bloom from inside its own self, and at the edge of the fate encircling me it will have to become darkly and sweetly ripened. Of a hundred experiences it always has to be the sum total of only one. One drop of water dew becomes the harvest of all dewdrops, a dark evening's one red point of light is the night of the whole world.

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And after that my poem like a substance entirely fresh, released far away from my memory, the same as a scythe in a field in the morning, the same as the ice on a lake in spring, will suddenly begin to sing from its own recollection.

Seishi Yamaguchi (1901-1994)

Seishi Yamaguchi was a disciple of Takahama Kyoshi. Kyoshi once called Seishi "one of his more out of the way disciples". Seishi's poems, especially his haiku, show a daring innovation of style and subject matter that are somewhat at odds with the more conservative Kyoshi.

Let there be no snow

Let there be no snow for the human torpedo is now in tatters

Roughness Unceasing
Roughness unceasing ice floes caught in clashing tides in the Soya straits

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Solitary Journey
A solitary journey of a woman cuckoo

Over The Sea - Haiku

Once over the sea, winter winds can no longer return home again.

Grief - Haiku
At the deepest point of grief, somebody nearby breaks a withered branch.

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