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Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
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
Begins
Summer
Moon
Hands
Clapping
Echoes
Dawn
More quotes by Matsuo Basho
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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Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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The old pond, ah! A frog jumps in: The water's sound.
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Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
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On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
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A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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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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Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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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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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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First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
Matsuo Basho