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From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
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
Soup
Trees
Everywhere
Spring
Salads
Tree
Cherry
Fall
Cherries
Blossoms
Salad
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Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud
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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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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
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Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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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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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
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First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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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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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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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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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto
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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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Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
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