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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
Every
Life
Poem
Lasts
Last
Moment
Death
Moments
More quotes by Matsuo Basho
Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
Matsuo Basho
Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
Matsuo Basho
Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
Matsuo Basho
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
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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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He who creates three to five haiku poems during a lifetime is a haiku poet. He who attains to completes ten is a master.
Matsuo Basho
First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
Matsuo Basho
The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
Matsuo Basho
The haiku that reveals seventy to eighty percent of its subject is good. Those that reveal fifty to sixty percent, we never tire of.
Matsuo Basho
Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
Matsuo Basho
Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
Matsuo Basho
April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances
Matsuo Basho
Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
Matsuo Basho
the universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.
Matsuo Basho
When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
Matsuo Basho
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.
Matsuo Basho
Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
Matsuo Basho
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Matsuo Basho
Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
Matsuo Basho
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.
Matsuo Basho