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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.

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
Memory
Fields
Weathered
Memories
Piercing
Like
Skeleton
Windy
Skeletons
Knife
Knives

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Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
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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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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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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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On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
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Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
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Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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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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The fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, I shall be unhappy without loneliness, shows that he made loneliness his master.
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Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
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An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
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Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
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Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
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When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
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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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April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances
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