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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
Two
Also
Life
Cherry
Cherries
Blossom
Lives

More quotes by Matsuo Basho

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First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
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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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April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances
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I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
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The old pond, ah! A frog jumps in: The water's sound.
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On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
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When your consciousness has become ripe in true zazen-pure like clear water, like a serene mountain lake, not moved by any wind-then anything may serve as a medium for realization.
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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the universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.
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From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
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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 oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
Matsuo Basho
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Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
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Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
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The fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, I shall be unhappy without loneliness, shows that he made loneliness his master.
Matsuo Basho
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I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.
Matsuo Basho
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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
Matsuo Basho