Matsuo Basho Poems

Sick on my journey,
only my dreams will wander
these desolate moors
...

A cicada shell;
it sang itself
utterly away.
...

Awake at night--
the sound of the water jar
cracking in the cold.
...

At a hermitage:

A cool fall night--
getting dinner, we peeled
...

First day of spring--
I keep thinking about
the end of autumn.
...

A weathered skeleton
in windy fields of memory,
piercing like a knife
...

Kori nigaku enso ga nodo o uruoseri


Bitter–tasting ice —
...

Winter solitude--
in a world of one color
the sound of wind.
...

Spring:
A hill without a name
Veiled in morning mist.
...

Chilling autumn rains
curtain Mount Fuji, then make it
more beautiful to see
...