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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.

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
Poem
Lasts
Last
Moment
Death
Moments
Every
Life

More quotes by Matsuo Basho

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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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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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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
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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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If I had the knack I'd sing like Cherry flakes falling
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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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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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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
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My body, now close to fifty years of age, has become an old tree that bears bitter peaches, a snail which has lost its shell, a bagworm separated from its bag it drifts with the winds and clouds that know no destination. Morning and night I have eaten traveler's fare, and have held out for alms a pilgrim's wallet.
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
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On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
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All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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The old pond, ah! A frog jumps in: The water's sound.
Matsuo Basho
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
Matsuo Basho
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Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
Matsuo Basho
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
Matsuo Basho