Quote

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

Matsuo Basho

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

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
Singing
Thinned
February
Insects
Thread
Winter
Garden
Moon

More quotes by Matsuo Basho

Image
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Matsuo Basho
Image
Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
Matsuo Basho
Image
When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
Matsuo Basho
Image
First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
Matsuo Basho
Image
The fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, I shall be unhappy without loneliness, shows that he made loneliness his master.
Matsuo Basho
Image
He who creates three to five haiku poems during a lifetime is a haiku poet. He who attains to completes ten is a master.
Matsuo Basho
Image
the universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.
Matsuo Basho
Image
Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
Matsuo Basho
Image
Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
Matsuo Basho
Image
What is important is to keep our mind high in the world of true understanding, and returning to the world of our daily experience to seek therein the truth of beauty. No matter what we may be doing at a given moment, we must not forget that is has a bearing upon our everlasting self which is poetry.
Matsuo Basho
Image
Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
Matsuo Basho
Image
The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
Matsuo Basho
Image
Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
Matsuo Basho
Image
Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
Matsuo Basho
Image
Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
Matsuo Basho
Image
All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
Matsuo Basho
Image
Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
Matsuo Basho
Image
Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
Matsuo Basho
Image
A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
Matsuo Basho
Image
For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
Matsuo Basho