There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon.
There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon.
When I speak My lips feel cold The autumn wind.
Just washed, How chill The white leeks.
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
Around existence twine,(Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge)ropes of twisted vine.
Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the men of old seek what they sought.
Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
Sabi is the color of haikai. It is different from tranquility. For example, if an old man dresses up in armor and helmet and goes to the battlefield, or in colorful brocade kimono, attending (his lord) at a banquet, sabi is like this old figure.
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
The oak tree not interested in cherry blossoms.
Now the swinging bridge Is quieted with creepers Like our tendrilled life.
From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
O cricket from your cherry cry No one would ever guess How quickly you must die.
Japanese haiku poets found something morose in the sound, an omen of the cicada's short adult life. In the cicada's cry, ... no sign can foretell how soon it must die.
Seek not to follow in the footsteps of men of old; seek what they sought.
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories