Quote

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

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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
Human
Noise
Humans
Terror
Believe
Sacred
Constant
Divine
Avoidance
Silence
Encounter
Break
Encounters
Desire
Precisely

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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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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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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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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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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.
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
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Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
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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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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
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Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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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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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
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Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud
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Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
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Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto
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The basis of art is change in the universe.
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Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
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Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
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