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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.
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
Writing
Hair
Verse
Mind
Tree
Verses
Like
Huge
Positivity
Felling
Dangerous
Composition
Swordsman
Enemy
Poem
Leaping
Write
Instant
Haiku
Done
Breath
Separating
Must
Breaths
Composing
More quotes by Matsuo Basho
Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
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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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He who creates three to five haiku poems during a lifetime is a haiku poet. He who attains to completes ten is a master.
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April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances
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All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
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Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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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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An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
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From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
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Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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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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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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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
Matsuo Basho
Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
Matsuo Basho