Saturday, January 05, 2013

51 Haiku Poems of Matsuo Bashō !

matsuo bashō
Matsuo Bashō (1644 – November 28, 1694), born Matsuo Kinsaku, then Matsuo Chūemon Munefusa, was the most famous poet of the Edo period in Japan. During his lifetime, Bashō was recognized for his works in the collaborative haikai no renga form; today, after centuries of commentary, he is recognized as the greatest master of haiku (at the time called hokku). His poetry is internationally renowned, and in Japan many of his poems are reproduced on monuments and traditional sites. Although Bashō is justifiably famous in the west for his hokku, he himself believed his best work lay in leading and participating in renku. He is quoted as saying, “Many of my followers can write hokku as well as I can. Where I show who I really am is in linking haikai verses.” Bashō was introduced to poetry at a young age, and after integrating himself into the intellectual scene of Edo (modern Tokyo), he quickly became well-known throughout Japan. He made a living as a teacher, but renounced the social, urban life of the literary circles and was inclined to wander throughout the country, heading west, east, and far into the northern wilderness to gain inspiration for his writing. His poems were influenced by his firsthand experience of the world around him, often encapsulating the feeling of a scene in a few simple elements. Presenting some haiku poems : Being Poet
Scarecrow in the hillock
Paddy field --
How unaware!  How useful!
Passing through the world
Indeed this is just
Sogi's rain shelter.
A wild sea-
In the distance over Sado
The Milky Way.
The she cat -
Grown thin
From love and barley.
How wild the sea is, 
and over Sado Island, 
the River of Heaven
Morning and evening
Someone waits at Matsushima!
One-sided love.
Wrapping dumplings in 
bamboo leaves, with one finger 
she tidies her hair
On Buddha's birthday 
a spotted fawn is born –
just like that
On Buddha's deathday, 
wrinkled tough old hands pray – 
the prayer beads' sound
I like to wash,
the dust of this world
In the droplets of dew.
With dewdrops dripping, 
I wish somehow I could wash 
this perishing world
Won't you come and see
loneliness? Just one leaf
from the kiri tree.
moonless night...
a powerful wind embraces
the ancient cedars
Behind Ise Shrine, 
unseen, hidden by the fence, 
Buddha enters nirvana
This ruined temple 
should have its sad tale told only 
by a clam digger
in my new clothing
i feel so different, i must
look like someone else
low tide morning...
the willow skirts are tailed
in stinking mud
A green willow,
dripping down into the mud,
at low tide. 
a clear waterfall —
into the ripples
fall green pine-needles
overhanging pine...
adding its mite of needles
to the waterfall
The pine tree of Shiogoshi
Trickles all night long
Shiny drops of moonlight.
Culture's beginnings: 
rice-planting songs from the heart 
of the country
Singing, planting rice, 
village songs more lovely 
than famous city poems
Spring air --
Woven moon
And plum scent.
Heated spring air
In tiny waves of an inch or two -
Above wintery grass.
Fresh spring!
The world is only Nine days old -
These fields and mountains!
A nameless hill
in the haze.
it is spring!
a hill without a name
in thin haze
Oh, these spring days!
A nameless little mountain,
wrapped in morning haze!
Spring too, very soon!
They are setting the scene for it --
plum tree and moon.
From all directions
Winds bring petals of cherry
Into the grebe lake.
Under the image of Buddha
All these spring flowers
Seem a little tiresome.
The leafless cherry,
Old as a toothless woman,
Blooms in flowers,
Mindful of its youth.
That great blue oak
indifferent to all blossoms 
appears more noble
The oak tree stands
noble on the hill even in
cherry blossom time
Spring rain
conveyed under the trees
in drops.
Spring rain
Leaking through the roof,
Dripping from the wasps' nest.
In this warm spring rain,
tiny leaves are sprouting
from the eggplant seed
The sun's way:
hollyhocks turn toward it
through all the rains of May.
Spring departs.
Birds cry
Fishes' eyes are filled with tears
No blossoms and no moon,
and he is drinking sake
all alone!
Temple bells die out.
The fragrant blossoms remain.
A perfect evening!
A little girl under a peach tree,
Whose blossoms fall into the entrails
Of the earth.
By the old temple,
peach blossoms;
a man treading rice.
Unknown spring --
Plum blossom
Behind the mirror.
With plum blossom scent, 
this sudden sun emerges 
along a mountain trail
Very brief:
Gleam of blossoms in the treetops
On a moonlit night.
From among the peach-trees
"Blooming everywhere,"
The first cherry blossoms.
A lovely spring night 
suddenly vanished while we 
viewed cherry blossoms
From every direction 
cherry blossom petals blow 
into Lake Biwa
Kannon's* tiled temple 
roof floats far away in clouds 
of cherry blossoms 
(Bodhisattva of Compassion)
From all these trees – 
in salads, soups, everywhere – 
cherry blossoms fall