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All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.

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
Ugly
Moon
Friends
Viewing
Bunch

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Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
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Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
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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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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
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Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
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Orchidbreathing incense into butterfly's wings
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A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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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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Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness
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The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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If I had the knack I'd sing like Cherry flakes falling
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