INTRODUCTION 

BASHO 
biography
haiku
haibun

BUSON 
biography 
haiku

ISSA 
biography 
haiku

OTHER POETS 


 




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rèi fú   



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          OTHER POETS 
           
           

          MORITAKE(1452-1540) 

          Those falling blossoms
          all return to the branch when
          I watch butterflies

          SOIN (1604-1682) 

          Settling, white dew
          does not discriminate,
          each drop its home

          ANONYMOUS 

          Chanting Buddha's name
          is the deepest pleasure
          of one's old age

          To learn how to die
          watch cherry blossoms, observe
          chrysanthemums

          SANPU (1647-1732) 

          First cherry blossoms,
          a cuckoo, the moon and snow:
          another year closes

          KIKAKU (1661-1707) 

          O Great Buddha,
          your lap must be filling with
          these flowers of snow

          Her mate devoured
          by the cat, the cricket's wife
          must be mourning

          On Buddha's birthday
          the orphaned boy will become
          the temple's child

          In the Emperor's bed,
          the smell of burnt mosquitoes,
          and erotic whispers

          A single yam leaf
          contains the entire life
          of a water drop

          Over the long road
          the flower-bringer follows:
          plentiful moonlight

          I begin each day
          with breakfast greens and tea
          and morning glories

          Riding the wide leaf
          of the banana-tree,
          the tree-frog clings

          RANSETSU (1654-1707) 

          A single leaf falls,
          then suddenly another,
          stolen by the breeze

          A large slug slides
          slowly, glistening over
          abandoned armor

          On the old plum tree,
          one blossom by one blossom,
          the spring thaw is born

          All by itself,
          that beautiful melon,
          entirely self-sufficient

          Without a sound,
          munching young rice-plant stalks,
          a caterpillar dines

          KYORAI (1651-1704) 

          Returning from a funeral
          I saw this very moon
          high above the moor

          RAIZAN (1653-1716) 

          For rice-planting women
          there's nothing left unsoiled
          but their song

          KAKEI (d. 1716) 

          At the break of dawn
          the well-bucket reels in
          a camellia bloom

          ONITSURA (1660-1738) 

          To finally know
          the plum, use the whole heart too,
          and your own nose
           
          The leaping trout sees
          far below, a few white clouds
          as they flow

          True obedience:
          silently the flowers speak
          to the inner ear

          The cherry blossoms
          scatter and we watch and the
          more cherry blossoms blow

          TAIGI (d. 1771) 

          "Don't touch!" my host cried,
          then broke off and presented
          a flowering plum

          CHIYO (1701-1775) 

          Since morning glories
          hold my well-bucket hostage,
          I beg for water

          SOGETSUNI (d. ca. 1804) 

          After the Dance for the Dead
          only pine winds to bring
          these insect cries

          Divine mystery
          in these autumn leaves that fall
          on stony buddhas

          SOGI (1421-1502) 

          Life in this world
          is brief as time spent sheltered
          from winter showers

          FUHAKU (1714-1807) 

          So very still, even
          cherry blossoms are not stirred
          by the temple bell

          TEIGA (1744-1826) 

          In the poor man's house,
          crossing the tatami mats,
          a cold autumn wind

          KIKUSHA-NI (1752-1826) 

          Only the moon
          and I, on our meeting-bridge,
          alone, growing cold

          TAYO-JO (1772-1865) 

          People, more people
          scurrying through spring breezes
          along the rice-field dikes

          SOCHO (1448-1532) 

          The moon this evening,
          and in the whole wide sky
          not a trace of cloud

          SHOHA (19th century) 

          When the bush warbler
          sings, the old frog belches
          his reply

          Just when the sermon
          has finally dirtied my ears- 
          the cuckoo

          O autumn winds,
          for me there are no ancient
          gods, no Buddhas for me

          The Skylark School
          argues with the Frog School,
          each with its song

          The full moon ringed
          by these innumerable stars,
          and the sky deep green

          In the winter river,
          discarded, an old dog's
          carcass

          The thunderstorm breaks up,
          one tree lit by setting sun,
          a cicada cry