All the time I pray to Buddha (Kobayashi Issa Poem)
All the time I pray to Buddha I keep on killing mosquitoes. (Kobayashi Issa)
All the time I pray to Buddha I keep on killing mosquitoes. (Kobayashi Issa)
The crow walks along there as if it were tilling the field. (Kobayashi Issa)
At my daughter's grave, thirty days after her death: Windy fall-- these are the scarlet flowers she liked to pick. ...
New Year's morning: the ducks on the pond quack and quack. (Kobayashi Issa)
New Year's Day-- everything is in blossom! I feel about average. (Kobayashi Issa)
How much are you enjying yourself, tiger moth? (Kobayashi Issa)
Seen through a telescope: ten cents worth of fog. (Kobayashi Issa)
A cuckoo sings to me, to the mountain, to me, to the mountain. (Kobayashi Issa)
Ducks bobbing on the water-- are they also, tonight, hoping to get lucky? (Kobayashi Issa)
It once happened that a child was spared punishment through earnest solicitation. (Kobayashi Issa)
Writing shit about new snow for the rich is not art. (Kobayashi Issa)
A huge frog and I, staring at each other, neither of us moves. (Kobayashi Issa)
Last time, I think, I'll brush the flies from my father's face. (Kobayashi Issa)
Approaching my village: Don't know about the people, but all the scarecrows are crooked. (Kobayashi Issa)
Blossoms at night, and the faces of people moved by music. (Kobayashi Issa)
Even on the smallest islands, they are tilling the fields, skylarks singing. (Kobayashi Issa)
Don't worry, spiders, I keep house casually. (Kobayashi Issa)
I'm going out, flies, so relax, make love. (Kobayashi Issa)
Summer night-- even the stars are whispering to each other. (Kobayashi Issa)
In spring rain a pretty girl yawning. (Kobayashi Issa)
With my father I would watch dawn over green fields. (Kobayashi Issa)
That pretty girl-- munching and rustling the wrapped-up rice cake. (Kobayashi Issa)
Pissing in the snow outside my door-- it makes a very straight hole. (Kobayashi Issa)
His death poem: A bath when you're born, a bath when you die, how stupid. (Kobayashi Issa)
In this world we walk on the roof of hell, gazing at flowers. (Kobayashi Issa)
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