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Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate

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
Mates
Butterfly
Ballet
Twice
Air
Butterflies
Meet
Twin
White
Mate
Twins

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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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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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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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Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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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.
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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
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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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If I had the knack I'd sing like Cherry flakes falling
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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
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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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The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
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The old pond, ah! A frog jumps in: The water's sound.
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
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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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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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