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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Matsuo Basho
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Matsuo Basho
Age: 50 †
Born: 1644
Born: January 1
Died: 1694
Died: November 28
Artist
Poet
Writer
Vaxjo
Matsuo Basho
Bashō
Bashô
Basho
Matsuo Bashou
Stills
Bells
Still
Stops
Temples
Flowers
Flower
Coming
Flowering
Hear
Bell
Sound
Temple
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The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
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An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
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Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
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How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
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When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
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Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
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Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud
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On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
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Sabi is the color of haikai. It is different from tranquility. For example, if an old man dresses up in armor and helmet and goes to the battlefield, or in colorful brocade kimono, attending (his lord) at a banquet, [sabi] is like this old figure.
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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.
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No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.
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Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
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Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
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