Scarecrow in the hillock Paddy field -- How unaware! How useful! Passing through the world Indeed this is just Sogi's rain shelter. A wild sea- In the distance over Sado The Milky Way. The she cat - Grown thin From love and barley. How wild the sea is, and over Sado Island, the River of Heaven Morning and evening Someone waits at Matsushima! One-sided love. Wrapping dumplings in bamboo leaves, with one finger she tidies her hair On Buddha's birthday a spotted fawn is born – just like that On Buddha's deathday, wrinkled tough old hands pray – the prayer beads' sound I like to wash, the dust of this world In the droplets of dew. With dewdrops dripping, I wish somehow I could wash this perishing world Won't you come and see loneliness? Just one leaf from the kiri tree. moonless night... a powerful wind embraces the ancient cedars Behind Ise Shrine, unseen, hidden by the fence, Buddha enters nirvana This ruined temple should have its sad tale told only by a clam digger in my new clothing i feel so different, i must look like someone else low tide morning... the willow skirts are tailed in stinking mud A green willow, dripping down into the mud, at low tide. a clear waterfall — into the ripples fall green pine-needles overhanging pine... adding its mite of needles to the waterfall The pine tree of Shiogoshi Trickles all night long Shiny drops of moonlight. Culture's beginnings: rice-planting songs from the heart of the country Singing, planting rice, village songs more lovely than famous city poems Spring air -- Woven moon And plum scent. Heated spring air In tiny waves of an inch or two - Above wintery grass. Fresh spring! The world is only Nine days old - These fields and mountains! Spring! A nameless hill in the haze. it is spring! a hill without a name in thin haze Oh, these spring days! A nameless little mountain, wrapped in morning haze! Spring too, very soon! They are setting the scene for it -- plum tree and moon. From all directions Winds bring petals of cherry Into the grebe lake. Under the image of Buddha All these spring flowers Seem a little tiresome. The leafless cherry, Old as a toothless woman, Blooms in flowers, Mindful of its youth. That great blue oak indifferent to all blossoms appears more noble The oak tree stands noble on the hill even in cherry blossom time Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops. Spring rain Leaking through the roof, Dripping from the wasps' nest. In this warm spring rain, tiny leaves are sprouting from the eggplant seed The sun's way: hollyhocks turn toward it through all the rains of May. Spring departs. Birds cry Fishes' eyes are filled with tears No blossoms and no moon, and he is drinking sake all alone! Temple bells die out. The fragrant blossoms remain. A perfect evening! A little girl under a peach tree, Whose blossoms fall into the entrails Of the earth. By the old temple, peach blossoms; a man treading rice. Unknown spring -- Plum blossom Behind the mirror. With plum blossom scent, this sudden sun emerges along a mountain trail Very brief: Gleam of blossoms in the treetops On a moonlit night. From among the peach-trees "Blooming everywhere," The first cherry blossoms. A lovely spring night suddenly vanished while we viewed cherry blossoms From every direction cherry blossom petals blow into Lake Biwa Kannon's* tiled temple roof floats far away in clouds of cherry blossoms (Bodhisattva of Compassion) From all these trees – in salads, soups, everywhere – cherry blossoms fall Cedar umbrellas, off to Mount Yoshimo for the cherry blossoms. On a journey, Resting beneath the cherry blossoms, I feel myself to be in a Noh play. in the blossoms’ shade as in the noh drama a traveller sleeps Clouds of cherry blossoms! Is that temple bell in Ueno or Asakusa? The temple bell stops. But the sound keeps coming out of the flowers. all the more I wish to see in those blossoms at dawn the face of a god Searching storehouse eaves, rapt in plum blossom smells, the mosquito hums Bush clover in blossom waves Without spilling A drop of dew. the moon still is though it seems far from home Suma in summer Taking a nap, Feet planted Against a cool wall. Melon In morning dew, mud-fresh. Wet with morning dew and splotched with mud, the melon looks especially cool The old pond: a frog jumps in,- the sound of water. Frog pond -- A leaf falls in Without a sound The old pond; the frog. Plop! At the ancient pond a frog plunges into the sound of water Summer moon - Clapping hands, I herald dawn. Mogami River, yanking The burning sky Into the sea. Yellow rose petals Thunder - A waterfall. Cold white azalea - Lone nun Under thatched roof. Three months after we saw Cherry blossoms together I came to see the glorious Twin trunks of the pine. I felt quite at home, As if it were mine sleeping lazily In this house of fresh air. June clouds, At ease on Arashiyama Peak. Octopus traps - summer’s moonspun dreams, soon ended. Summer in the world; floating on the waves of the lake. in your summer-room... garden and mountain going too as we slowly walk Ugoku ha mo Naku osoroshiki Natsu kodachi Even leaves don't move Awesome is the Summer grove The summer's grass! all that's left of ancient warriors' dreams. Summer grasses: all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams A thicket of summer grass Is all that remains Of the dreams of ancient warriors. All the rains of June it brings together, and it is swift -- the river Morgami. Summer zashiki Make move and enter The mountain and the garden. This hot day swept away into the sea by the Mogami River A lightning gleam: into darkness travels a night heron's scream. Along the roadside, blossoming wild roses in my horse’s mouth The farmer's roadside hedge provided lunch for my tired horse My horse Clip-clopping over the fields--Oh ho! I too am part of the picture! All day in grey rain hollyhocks follow the sun's invisible road An ivy spray Trained up over the wall And a few bamboos Inviting a tempest. How many priests How many morning glories Have perished under the pine Eternal as law? along the mountain road somehow it tugs at my heart— a wild violet Traveling this high mountain trail, delighted by violets looking carefully, a shepherds purse is blooming under the fence petal by petal yellow mountain roses fall— sound of rapids Petals of the mountain rose Fall now and then, To the sound of the waterfall? The petals tremble on the yellow mountain rose – roar of the rapids Long conversations beside blooming irises – joys of life on the road The lilies! The stems, just as they are, the flowers, just as they are. The bee emerging from deep within the peony departs reluctantly Slender, so slender its stalk bends under dew -- little yellow flower For those who proclaim they’ve grown weary of children, there are no flowers Exhausted, I sought a country inn, but found wisteria in bloom Morning glory trailing -- All day the gate- bolt's fastened. Breakfast enjoyed in the fine company of morning glories The morning glories bloom, securing the gate in the old fence bush-clover flowers — they sway but do not drop their beads of dew Flower under harvest sun - stranger To bird, butterfly. without turning into a butterfly, autumn deepens for the worm Deep into autumn and this caterpillar still not a butterfly A caterpillar this deep in fall still not a butterfly With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow. On the white poppy, a butterfly’s torn wing is a keepsake butterflies flit… that is all, amid the field of sunlight butterflies flit in a field of sunlight that is all Kochira muke Ware mo sabishiki Aki no kure Will you turn toward me? I am lonely too, This autumn evening. As firmly cemented clam-shells Fall apart in autumn, So I must take to the road again, Farewell, my friends. Farewell, my old fan. Having scribbled on it, What could I do but tear it At the end of summer? kono aki wa nande toshiyoru kumo ni tori this autumn as-for why grow old cloud to bird this autumn why am I aging so? to the clouds a bird this autumn as reason for growing old a cloud and a bird the whole family all with white hair and canes visiting graves souls' festival today also there is smoke from the crematory lotus pond as they are unplucked Souls' Festival Buddha's Death Day from wrinkled praying hands the rosaries' sound not to think of yourself as someone who did not count -- Festival of the Souls all night autumn winds being heard behind the mountains so clear the sound echoes to the Big Dipper the fulling block taken in my hand it will vanish in hot tears autumn frost bright red the pitiless sun autumn winds autumn wind broken with sadness his mulberry stick autumn winds in the sliding door's opening a sharp voice autumn wind: as thickets in fields are Fuwa's barriers people no longer live at the Fuwa Barrier in a house with wooden eaves weathered bones just thinking of the wind it pierces my body in the world outside is it harvesting time? the grass of my hut for one touched by monkey cries how is it when a child's abandoned in autumn winds speaking out my lips are cold in autumn wind autumn wind in Ise's shrine cemetery even more lonely walking on and on even through I fall down sick in fields of clover from this very day erase the inscription with dew on the bamboo hat autumn colors without a pot of red-brown soup turn this way! I too feel lonely late in autumn Stone Mountain whiter than the stones autumn wind borrowing sleep from the scarecrow's sleeves midnight frost I would like to use that scarecrow's tattered clothes in this midnight frost along this road going with no one autumn evening autumn deepens the man next door how is he doing? saying farewell to people farewell being said to me brings autumn in Kiso I didn't die! the end of a journey is autumn nightfall autumn nears my heart is drawn to a four-mat room autumn night striking and making it crumble our small talk blowing stones flying from the volcano Asama autumn gale chrysanthemum's scent in the garden a worn-out sandal just the sole rainy day the world's autumn closes Boundary Town banana plant in autumn storm rain drips into tub hearing the night departing autumn with hands spread open chestnut burs Kiso's chestnuts for a person of the floating world a souvenir Over the ruins of a shrine a chestnut tree still lifts its candles I’ll take these back for the city slickers – sour chestnuts The Chestnut by the eaves In magnificent bloom Passes unnoticed By men of this world. though autumn winds blow it is still green bur of the chestnut The winds of fall are blowing, yet how green the chestnut burr. also green it should remain a thing the pepper pod at Nara the fragrance of chrysanthemums ancient Buddhas drinking morning tea the monk is peaceful the chrysanthemum blooms while growing thin without a reason the chrysanthemum bud white chrysanthemum catching in one's eye nary a speck of dust chrysanthemums flowers blooming in the stones autumn coolness hand and hand paring away eggplants -- cucumbers don't imitate me we are not two halves of a muskmelon ear of the pine tree mushroom on a strange tree with a leaf stuck to it the village so old there's not a single house without a persimmon tree autumn begins sea and sprouting rice fields one green failing health chewing dried seaweed my teeth grate on sand grabbing at straws the strength to bear our parting on this mountain tell me of its sorrow wild-yam digger after the flowers all there is left for my haiku wisteria beans The beginning of autumn; The sea and fields, All one same green. In the bitter radish that bites into me, I feel the autumn wind Will you turn toward me? I am lonely, too, this autumn evening. Cho tori-no Shiranu hana ari Aki no sora Unknown to birds and butterflies A flower blooms The autumn sky a strange flower for birds and butterflies the autumn sky Autumn approaches and the heart begins to dream of four-tatami rooms Wild boars and all are blown along with it -- storm-wind of fall! A autumn wind More white Than the rocks in the rocky mountain. kono michi ya yuku hito nashi ni aki no kure this road go person nonexistent with autumn’s evening On this road where nobody else travels autumn nightfall All along this road not a single soul – only autumn evening comes Along this way, no travellers. Dusk in autumn. My way – no-one on the road and it’s autumn, getting dark The first day of the year: thoughts come - and there is loneliness; the autumn dusk is here. Cold as it was We felt secure sleeping together In the same room. Chilling autumn rains curtain Mount Fuji, then make it more beautiful to see The winter storm Hid in the bamboo grove And quieted away. Should I hold them in my hand, They will disappear In the warmth of my tears, Icy strings of frost. Hailstones Glancing off the rocks At Stony Pass. Awake at night, The lamp low, The oil freezing. Winter rain -- The field stubble Has blackened. Crossing long fields, frozen in its saddle, my shadow creeps by Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice Water-drawing rites, icy sound of monks' getas echo long and cold On the cow shed A hard winter rain; Cock crowing. The winter leeks Have been washed white -- How cold it is! Winter downpour - even the monkey needs a raincoat. Winter solitude-- in a world of one color the sound of wind. I'm a wanderer so let that be my name – the first winter rain Winter seclusion – sitting propped against the same worn post On New Year's Day each thought a loneliness as winter dusk descends Along my journey through this transitory world, new year's housecleaning Year’s end, all corners of this floating world, swept. This first fallen snow is barely enough to bend the jonquil leaves The first snow the leaves of the daffodil bending together The first snow, Just enough to bend The leaves of the daffodils. Tethered horse; snow in both stirrups. First snow Falling On the half-finished bridge. On the polished surface Of the divine glass, Chaste with flowers of snow. The crescent lights The misty ground. Buckwheat flowers. Come out to view the truth of flowers blooming in poverty New Year’s first snow -- ah -- just barely enough to tilt the daffodil Polished and polished clean, in the holy mirror snow flowers bloom Watching for snow, the boozers’ faces – a flash of lightning fragrant orchid— into a butterfly’s wings it breathes incense Wake, butterfly - It's late, we've miles To go together. Butterfly - Wings curve into White poppy. Heard, not seen, the camellia poured rainwater when it leaned Misty rain; Today is a happy day, Although Mt. Fuji is unseen. Even a wild boar With all other things Blew in this storm. The wind from Mt. Fuji I put it on the fan. Here, the souvenir from Edo. Tremble, oh my gravemound, in time my cries will be only this autumn wind shaking the grave my weeping voice autumn wind Sleep on horseback, The far moon in a continuing dream, Steam of roasting tea. where's the moon? as the temple bell is -- sunk in the sea The moon about to appear, all present tonight with their hands on their knees. Black Cloudbank broken Scatters in the night...Now see Moon-lighted mountains! Husking rice, a child squints up to view the moon. a peasant’s child husking rice, pauses to look at the moon The clouds come and go, providing a rest for all the moon viewers Clouds come from time to time -- and bring to men a chance to rest from looking at the moon. All the fields hands enjoy a noontime nap after the harvest moon Whore and monk, we sleep under one roof together, moon in a field of clover Now I see her face, the old woman, abandoned, the moon her only companion A cuckoo cries, and through a thicket of bamboo the late moon shines This bright harvest moon keeps me walking all night long around the little pond the moon: I wandered around the pond all night long the setting moon the thing that remains four corners of his desk In the moonlight a worm silently drills through a chestnut All my friends viewing the moon – an ugly bunch Among moon gazers at the ancient temple grounds not one beautiful face viewing the moon no one at the party has such a beautiful face The moon is the guide, Come this way to my house, So says the host of a wayside inn. occasional clouds one gets a rest from moon-viewing hair shaved in a moon-shape with their hands on their knees in the early hours of night buying a measure box now I feel differently about moon-viewing sleeping in the temple the serious-looking face is moon-viewing the full moon seven story-songs of a woman turning towards the sea the farmer's child rests from husking rice then sees the moon famous moon! circling the pond all night even to the end the moon so pure a wandering monk carries it across the sand harvest moon northland weather uncertain skies full autumn moon to my gate comes rising crested tide thin from the Kiso trip and still not yet recovered the late harvest moon blue seas breaking waves smell of rice wine tonight's moon Autumn full moon, the tides slosh and foam coming in Mii Temple knocking on the gate for a wish today's moon your hermitage the moon and chrysanthemums plus an acre of rice fields flower of the harvest moon? it only looks that way a cotton field butt of the tree see in the cut end today's moon on a bare branch a crow has settled autumn dusk A solitary crow on a bare branch- autumn evening Kareeda ni karasu no tomari keri aki no kure On dead branches Crows remain perched At autumn's end. The voices of plovers Invite me to stare into the darkness Of the Starlit Promontory. Dark night - Plover crying For its nest. Sparrow, spare The horsefly Dallying in flowers. in blossoms a horsefly plays… don’t eat it friend-sparrow Sparrows In rape-field, Blossom-viewing. Sparrows in eves Mice in ceiling - Celestial music. Baby mice in their nest squeak in response to the young sparrows Where cuckoo Vanishes - An island. higher than a skylark resting in the sky on a mountain pass above the moor not attached to anything a skylark singing though a skylark sings beating inside the pheasant's sad cry All the day long- yet not long enough for the skylark, singing, singing. Do the tea-pickers also, hidden in the bushes, hear the hototogishu? Skylark on moor -- Sweet song Of non-attachment. Over skylark's song Noh cry Of Pheasant resting higher than a lark in the sky a mountain pass Even these long days are not nearly long enough for the skylarks to sing By a singular stroke Of luck, I saw a solitary hawk circling Above the promontory of Irago. Unknowingly he guided us over pathless hills with wisps of hay My eyes following until the bird was lost at sea found a small island A mountain pheasant cry fills me with fond longing for father and mother The lightning flashes And slashing through the darkness, A night-heron’s screech. O bush warblers! Now you’ve shit all over my rice cake on the porch the sea darkens — the voices of the wild ducks are faintly white Seas slowly darken and the wild duck's plaintive cry grows faintly white very exciting yet after awhile so sad cormorant fishing a sick wild duck falling down with the dark cold to sleep overnight cloud-parting friend! temporarily this wild goose must go away With a warbler for a soul, it sleeps peacefully, this mountain willow The warbler sings among new shoots of bamboo of coming old age Delight, then sorrow, aboard the cormorant fishing boat But for a woodpecker tapping at a post, no sound at all in the house Even in Kyoto, how I long for Kyoto when the cuckoo sings Lead my pony across this wide moor to where the cuckoo sings The shallows – a crane’s thighs splashed in cool waves A dragonfly, trying to – oops, hang on to the upside of a blade of grass temple bell also sounds like it is cicada's voice cricket forgetting sounds with its cry by the fireplace in the cow shed mosquito's voice darkens lingering heat bagworm's place it seems to be inside the cherry blossoms bagworms to hear their songs come to my hut spiders have a cry? well, what is chirping autumn's wind? secretly at night a worm under the moon bores into a chestnut With what kind of voice would the spider cry in the autumn wind? Firefly viewing - Drunken steersman, Drunken boat. The dragonfly Can't quite land On that blade of grass. Dying cricket, how he sings out his life! Gray hairs being plucked, and from below my pillow a cricket singing Ungraciously, under a great soldier's empty helmet, a cricket sings how piteous! beneath the soldiers helmet chirps a cricket a terrible sound – the gilded helmet’s trapped cricket Yagate shinu Keshiki wa miezu Semi no koe Cicadas singing -- No sign Of dying soon. soon to die yet no sign of it in the cidada's chirpNothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die Shizukasa ya Iwa ni shimi-iru Semi no koe Calm and serene The sound of a cicada Penetrates the rock stillness piercing the rocks cicada's shrill Lonely silence, a single cicada's cry sinking into stone How still it is! Stinking into the stones, the locusts' trill. Eaten alive by lice and fleas -- now the horse beside my pillow pees at my poor hovel there’s one thing I can offer — small mosquitoes The usually hateful crow: he, too -- this morning, on the snow! Even that old horse is something to see this snow-covered morning What luck! The southern valley Make snow fragrant. Hello! Light the fire! I'll bring inside a lovely bright ball of snow to Kyoto still half the sky to go— snowy clouds Only half the way I came To the ancient capital, And above my head Clouds heavy with snow. Crossing half the sky, on my way to the capital, big clouds promise snow Not even a hat -- and cold rain falling on me? Tut-tut! Think of that! A cold rain starting And no hat -- So? under my tree-roof slanting lines of april rain separate to drops The banana tree blown by winds pours raindrops into the bucket How admirable, He who thinks not, "Life is fleeting," When he sees the lightning! How very noble! One who finds no satori in the lightning-flash Shake, oh grave! The autumn wind Is the voice of my wailing. Ill on a journey, all about the dreary fields fly my broken dreams. DEATH POEM Sick on my journey, only my dreams will wander these desolate moors A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife