Hokku Poems in Four Seasons (Yosa Buson Poems)
SpringThe year's first poem done,with smug self confidencea haikai poet.Longer has become the daytime;a pheasant is flutteringdown onto the bridge.Yearning ...
SpringThe year's first poem done,with smug self confidencea haikai poet.Longer has become the daytime;a pheasant is flutteringdown onto the bridge.Yearning ...
You left in the morning, at evening my heart is in athousand pieces.Why is it so far away?Thinking of you, ...
light of the moonmoves west - flowers' shadowscreep eastward(Yosa Buson)
The winter river;down it come floatingflowers offered to Buddha.(Yosa Buson)
Ploughing the land-- not even a bird singing in the mountain's shadow. (Yosa Buson)
Straw sandal half sunk in an old pond in the sleety snow. (Yosa Buson)
They end their flight one by one--- crows at dusk. (Yosa Buson)
Washing the hoe-- ripples on the water; far off, wild ducks. (Yosa Buson)
His Holiness the Abbot is shitting in the withered fields. (Yosa Buson)
Buying leeks and walking home under the bare trees. (Yosa Buson)
The behavior of the pigeon is beyond reproach, but the mountain cuckoo? (Yosa Buson)
Blown from the west, fallen leaves gather in the east. (Yosa Buson)
Sparrow singing-- its tiny mouth open. (Yosa Buson)
Old well, a fish leaps-- dark sound. (Yosa Buson)
Calligraphy of geese against the sky-- the moon seals it. (Yosa Buson)
The willow leaves fallen, the spring gone dry, rocks here and there. (Yosa Buson)
He's on the porch, to escape the wife and kids-- how hot it is! (Yosa Buson)
The end of spring-- the poet is brooding about editors. (Yosa Buson)
My arm for a pillow, I really like myself under the hazy moon. (Yosa Buson)
Evening wind: water laps the heron's legs. (Yosa Buson)
The spring sea rising and falling, rising and falling all day. (Yosa Buson)
Blow of an ax, pine scent, the winter woods. (Yosa Buson)
Listening to the moon, gazing at the croaking of frogs in a field of ripe rice. (Yosa Buson)
The old man cutting barley-- bent like a sickle. (Yosa Buson)
Before the white chrysanthemum the scissors hesitate a moment. (Yosa Buson)
Not quite dark yet and the stars shining above the withered fields. (Yosa Buson)
Dawn-- fish the cormorants haven't caught swimming in the shallows. (Yosa Buson)
Coolness-- the sound of the bell as it leaves the bell. (Yosa Buson)
White blossoms of the pear and a woman in moonlight reading a letter. (Yosa Buson)
Harvest moon-- called at his house, he was digging potatoes. (Yosa Buson)
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