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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.

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
Cherries
Blossom
Lives
Two
Also
Life
Cherry

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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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Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
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Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine, or to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo. And in doing so, you must leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Otherwise you impose yourself on the object and you do not learn.
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Make the universe your companion, always bearing in mind the true nature of things-mountains and rivers, trees and grasses, and humanity-and enjoy the falling blossoms and the scattering leaves.
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Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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My body, now close to fifty years of age, has become an old tree that bears bitter peaches, a snail which has lost its shell, a bagworm separated from its bag it drifts with the winds and clouds that know no destination. Morning and night I have eaten traveler's fare, and have held out for alms a pilgrim's wallet.
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
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The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
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Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
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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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Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
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Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
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How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
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