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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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I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
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A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
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When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
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Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
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Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto
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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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How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
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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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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 basis of art is change in the universe.
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
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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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An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
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