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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die

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
Nothing
Cicadas
Suggests
Cry
Dies

More quotes by Matsuo Basho

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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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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.
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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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Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
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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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The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
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Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
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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 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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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
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The old pond, ah! A frog jumps in: The water's sound.
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Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
Matsuo Basho