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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
Moment
Death
Moments
Every
Life
Poem
Lasts
Last
More quotes by Matsuo Basho
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.
Matsuo Basho
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Matsuo Basho
The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
Matsuo Basho
Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
Matsuo Basho
Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
Matsuo Basho
Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
Matsuo Basho
No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.
Matsuo Basho
What is important is to keep our mind high in the world of true understanding, and returning to the world of our daily experience to seek therein the truth of beauty. No matter what we may be doing at a given moment, we must not forget that is has a bearing upon our everlasting self which is poetry.
Matsuo Basho
A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
Matsuo Basho
The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
Matsuo Basho
First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
Matsuo Basho
Sabi is the color of haikai. It is different from tranquility. For example, if an old man dresses up in armor and helmet and goes to the battlefield, or in colorful brocade kimono, attending (his lord) at a banquet, [sabi] is like this old figure.
Matsuo Basho
April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances
Matsuo Basho
How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
Matsuo Basho
A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
Matsuo Basho
All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
Matsuo Basho
Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness
Matsuo Basho
I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.
Matsuo Basho
On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
Matsuo Basho