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Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
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
Spring
Tree
Conveyed
Drops
Trees
Rain
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When your consciousness has become ripe in true zazen-pure like clear water, like a serene mountain lake, not moved by any wind-then anything may serve as a medium for realization.
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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The old pond, ah! A frog jumps in: The water's sound.
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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
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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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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
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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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The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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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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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
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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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Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
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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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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
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