Thus spring begins: old
stupidities repeated,
new errs invented
Just beyond the gate,
a neat yellow hole
someone pissed in the snow
With this rising bath-mist
deep in a moonlit night,
spring finally begins.
People working fields,
from my deepest heart, I bow.
Now a little nap.
In the beggar's tin
a few thin copper coins
and this evening rain
For you too, my fleas,
the night passes so slowly.
But you won't be lonely.
Brilliant moon,
is it true that you too
must pass in a hurry
The winter fly
I caught and finally freed
the cat quickly ate
A faint yellow rose
almost hidden in deep grass
and then it moves.
Mother, I weep
for you as I watch the sea
each time I watch the sea
As the great old trees
are marked for felling, the birds
build their new spring nests
Like misty moonlight,
watery, bewildering
our temporal way
My dear old village,
every memory of home
pierces like a thorn
A sheet of rain.
Only one man remains among
cherry blossom shadows
A flowering plum
and a nightingale's love song
he remains alone
My old village lies
far beyond what we can see,
but there the lark is singing
This world of dew
is only a world of dew -
and yet
Here is Shinano
are famous moons, and buddhas,
and our good noodles
When the wild turnip
burst into full blossom
a skylark sang
The distant mountains
are reflected in the eye
of the dragonfly
What's the lord's vast wealth
to me, his millions and more?
Dew on trembling grass
Before this autumn wind
even the shadows of mountains
shudder and tremble
This year on, forever,
it's all gravy for me now -
now spring arrives
I wish she were here
to listen to my bitching
and enjoy this moon
Gratitude for gifts,
even snow on my bedspread
a gift from the Pure Land
The old dog listens
intently, as if to the
worksongs of the worms
My spring is just this:
a single bamboo shoot,
a willow branch
From that woman
on the beach, dusk pours out
across the evening waves
Don't kill that poor fly!
He cowers, wringing
his hands foe mercy
Before I arrived,
who were the people living here?
Only violets remain.
O autumn winds,
tell me where I'm bound, to which
particular hell
From the Great Buddha's
great nose, a swallow comes
gliding out
A world of dew,
and within every dewdrop
a world of struggle
Under this bright moon
I sit like an old buddha
knees spread wide
The young sparrows
return into Jizo's sleeve
for sanctuary
*Jizo is the patron bodhisattva
of children and travelers.
My noontime nap
disrupted by voices singing
rice-planting songs
In the midst of this world
we stroll along the roof of hell
gawking at flowers
Give me a homeland,
and a passionate woman,
and a winter alone
A world of trials,
and if the cherry blossoms,
it simply blossoms
In my hidden house,
no teeth left in the mouth,
but good luck abounds
So many flea bites,
but on her lovely young skin
they are beautiful
Now we are leaving,
the butterflies can make love
to their hearts' desire
The new year aarrived
in utter simplicity -
and a deep blue sky
The blossoming plum!
Today all the fires of hell
remain empty
Just to say the word
home, that one word alone,
so pleasantly cool
How comfortable
my summer cotton robe
when drenched with sweat
In this mountain village,
shining in my soup bowl,
the bright moon arrives
After a long nap,
the cat yawns, rises, and goes out
looking for love
O summer snail,
you climb but slowly, slowly
to the top of Fuji
The vanity of men
they would like to retain