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Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
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
Beautiful
Better
Live
Real
Writing
Life
Lead
Poetry
Write
More quotes by Matsuo Basho
Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
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On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
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The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
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From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
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The haiku that reveals seventy to eighty percent of its subject is good. Those that reveal fifty to sixty percent, we never tire of.
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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto
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Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness
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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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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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