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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.

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
Glimmering
Plunge
Hidden
Deep
Order
Enough
Something

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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.
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When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
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Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
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The haiku that reveals seventy to eighty percent of its subject is good. Those that reveal fifty to sixty percent, we never tire of.
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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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All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
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the universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.
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Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine, or to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo. And in doing so, you must leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Otherwise you impose yourself on the object and you do not learn.
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Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
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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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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
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Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
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April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances
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The basis of art is change in the universe.
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Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
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