The Oldest Haiku - Haiku Timeline - History and Chronology of Haiku
These are my translations of some of the oldest Japanese waka, which evolved into poetic forms such as tanka, renga and haiku over time. My translations begin with excerpts from the Kojiki or 'Record of Ancient Matters' composed around 711 A.D. by the historian and poet Ō no Yasumaro. These are lines from one of the oldest Japanese poems, found in the oldest Japanese book...
Today, catching sight of the mallards
crying over Lake Iware:
Must I too vanish into the clouds?
—Prince Otsu, who wrote circa 663-686, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
While you decline to cry,
high on the mountainside
a single stalk of plumegrass wilts.
―Ō no Yasumaro, who wrote circa 711, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Here's an excerpt with a humorous twist from the Kojiki:
Hush, cawing crows; what rackets you make!
Heaven's indignant messengers,
you remind me of wordsmiths!
―Ō no Yasumaro loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Here's another, this one a poem of love and longing:
Onyx, this gem-black night.
Downcast, I await your return
like the rising sun, unrivaled in splendor.
―Ō no Yasumaro loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Ono no Komachi, circa 825-900, wrote waka, the most traditional form of Japanese lyric poetry, and the forerunner of haiku and tanka. She is one of the best-known poets of the Kokinshu, the first in a series of anthologies of Japanese poetry compiled by imperial order beginning circa 905. She is also one of the Rokkasen — the six best waka poets of the early Heian period, during which poetry was considered the highest art in Japan. Renowned for her unusual beauty, Komachi has become a synonym for feminine beauty in Japan. She is is best known today for her pensive, melancholic and erotic love poems.
If fields of autumn flowers
can shed their blossoms, shameless,
why can't I also frolic here —
as fearless, wild and blameless?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Watching wan moonlight
illuminate tree limbs,
my heart also brims,
overflowing with autumn.
—Ono no Komachi loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Sad,
the end that awaits me —
to think that before autumn yields
I'll be a pale mist
shrouding these rice fields.
—Ono no Komachi loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I had thought to pluck
the flower of forgetfulness
only to find it
already blossoming in his heart.
—Ono no Komachi loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Am I to spend the night alone
atop this summit,
cold and lost?
Won't you at least lend me
your robes of moss?
—Ono no Komachi loose translation by Michael R. Burch
So cruelly severed,
a root-cut reed...
if the river offered,
why not be freed?
—Ono no Komachi loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The wildflowers and my love
wilted with the rain
as I idly wondered
where in the past does love remain?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I nodded off thinking about you
only to have you appear in my dreams.
Had I known that I slept,
I'd have never awakened!
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There are more poems by Ono no Komachi later on this page.
This world—
to what may we compare it?
To autumn fields
lying darkening at dusk
illuminated by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago,911-983, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This world—to what may we liken it?
To autumn fields lit dimly at dusk,
illuminated by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Like a half-exposed rotten log
my life, which never flowered,
ends barren.
—Minamoto Yorimasa,1104-1180, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Overtaken by darkness,
I will lodge under a tree's branches;
cherry blossoms will cushion me tonight.
—Taira no Tadanori,1144-1184, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Overtaken by darkness,
I will lodge under a cherry tree's branches;
flowers alone will bower me tonight.
—Taira no Tadanori loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Let me die in spring
beneath the cherry blossoms
while the moon is full.
—Saigyo,1118-1190, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This world?
Moonlit dew
flicked from a crane's bill.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen,1200-1253, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Seventy-one?
How long
can a dewdrop last?
—Eihei Dogen Kigen loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dewdrops beading grass-blades
die before dawn;
may an untimely wind not hasten their departure!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dewdrops beading blades of grass
have so little time to shine before dawn;
let the autumn wind not rush too quickly through the field!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Outside my window the plums, blossoming,
within their curled buds, contain the spring;
the moon is reflected in the cup-like whorls
of the lovely flowers I gather and twirl.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops:
flashes of light
briefly illuminating the void.
—Ouchi Yoshitaka, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is no death, as there is no life.
Are not the skies cloudless
And the rivers clear?
—Taiheiki Toshimoto loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This world of dew
is a dew-drop world indeed;
and yet, and yet...
—Kobayashi Issa loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All five aspects of my fleeting human form
And the four elements of existence add up to nothing:
I bare my neck to the unsheathed sword
And its blow is but a breath of wind...
—Suketomo loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Snow-obscured heights,
mist-shrouded slopes:
this spring evening.
―Ilio Sōgi loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Had I not known
I was already dead
I might have mourned
my own passing.
—Ota Dokan loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Soundlessly they go,
the herons passing by:
arrows of snow
filling the sky.
―Yamazaki Sōkan loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O, fluttering moon, if only we
could hang a handle on you,
what a fan you would be!
―Yamazaki Sōkan loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Has an orphaned blossom
somehow returned to its bough?
No, a solitary butterfly!
―Arakida Moritake loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Even a life of long prosperity is like a single cup of sake;
my life of forty-nine years flashed by like a dream.
Nor do I know what life is, nor death.
All the years combined were but a fleeting dream.
Now I step beyond both Heaven and Hell
To stand alone in the moonlit dawn,
Free from the mists of attachment.
—Uesugi Kenshin loose translation by Michael R. Burch
My life appeared like dew
and disappears like dew.
All Naniwa was a series of dreams.
—Toyotomi Hideyoshi loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Life: a solitary butterfly
swaying unsteadily on a slender grass-stalk,
nothing more. But ah! so exquisite!
―Nishiyama Soin loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The hushed sound
of the scarecrow falling
gently to the ground!
―Nozawa Bonchō loose translation by Michael R. Burch
When no wind at all
ruffles the Kiri tree
leaves fall of their own will.
―Nozawa Bonchō loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Sunlight slants
through a red pine grove:
the shrike's shriek.
―Nozawa Bonchō loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Winter in the air,
my neighbor,
how does he fare?
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
nightfall
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let us arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there's no rice
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Come, investigate loneliness:
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The first chill rain: so raw!
Poor monkey, you could use
a cape of woven straw!
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This snowy morning:
cries of the crow I despise
(ah, but so beautiful!)
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Like a heavy fragrance
snowflakes settle:
lilies on rocks
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The cheerful-chirping cricket
contends gray autumn's gay,
contemptuous of frost
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
An ancient pond,
the frog leaps:
the silver plop and gurgle of water.
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Will we remain parted forever?
Here at your grave:
two flowerlike butterflies!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Air ballet:
twin butterflies, twice white,
meet, match & mate.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Ballet in the air! ―
two butterflies, twice white,
meet, mate, unite.
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, butterfly,
it's late
and we've a long way to go!
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A spring wind
stirs willow leaves
as a butterfly hovers unsteadily.
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When the blossoms
bloomed,
I understood the Way.
―Kyorai Mukai loose translation by Michael R. Burch
While nobody's watching
the pepper pods redden.
―Kyorai Mukai loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Motionless spring mist:
mid-afternoon lethargy.
―Kyorai Mukai loose translation by Michael R. Burch
My eyes,
having observed all sums,
returned to the white chrysanthemums.
―Kosugi Isshō loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Felt deeply in my heart:
How beautiful the snow,
Clouds gathering in the west.
—Issho, loose translation of his jisei/death poem by Michael R. Burch
Brittle cicada shell,
little did I know
that you were my life!
—Shoshun loose translation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
A white swan
parts the cherry-petalled pond
with her motionless breast.
Roka loose translation by Michael R. Burch
NOTE: Roka became a pupil of Basho and studied haiku with him in 1694; that would have been in the last year of Basho's life.
These useless dreams, alas!
Over fields of desiccate grass
winds whisper as they pass.
―Uejima Onitsura loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Observe:
see how the wild violets bloom
within the forbidden fences!
―Shida Yaba loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Inhale, exhale.
Forward, reverse.
Live, die.
Let arrows fly, meet midway and sever the void in aimless flight:
Thus I return to the Source.
—Gesshu Soko loose translation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
Since I was born,
I must die,
and so …
—Kisei loose translation/interpretation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
Ah butterfly,
what dreams do you ply
with your beautiful wings?
―Fukuda Chiyo-ni loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Because morning glories
hold my well-bucket hostage
I go begging for water
―Fukuda Chiyo-ni loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Leaves,
like the shadows of crows
cast by a lonely moon.
―Fukuda Chiyo-ni loose translation by Michael R. Burch
My body?
Pointless
as the tree's last persimmon.
—Seisa loose translation/interpretation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
Farewell! I pass
away as all things do:
dew drying on grass.
—Banzan loose translation/interpretation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
A tempestuous sea...
Flung from the deck —
this block of ice.
—Choha, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
Empty cicada shell:
we return as we came,
naked.
—Fukaku, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
Let us arise and go,
following the path of the clear dew.
—Fojo, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Depths of the cold,
unfathomable ocean's roar.
—Kasenjo, loose translation/interpretation of her jisei by Michael R. Burch
Things never stand still,
not even for a second:
consider the trees' colors.
—Seiju, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
Yosa Buson haiku translations
On the temple's great bronze gong
a butterfly
snoozes.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hard to describe:
this light sensation of being pinched
by a butterfly!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Not to worry spiders,
I clean house... sparingly.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Among the fallen leaves,
an elderly frog.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In an ancient well
fish leap for mosquitoes,
a dark sound.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Flowers with thorns
remind me of my hometown...
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Reaching the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate...
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A kite floats
at the same place in the sky
where yesterday it floated...
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A silk robe, casually discarded,
exudes fragrance
into the darkening evening
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Whose delicate clothes
still decorate the clothesline?
Late autumn wind.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is an example of a translation in which I interpreted the poem before translating it. In the original poem the clothes were thin (suggesting suggestive garments) . In Japanese poetry an autumn wind can represent loneliness. So I interpreted the poem to be about an aging woman who still wears enticing clothes but is increasingly lonely. Since in the West we don't normally drape clothes on screens, I moved the clothes to a clothesline, which works well with the wind. For me it's a sad poem about something that happens all too often to people as they age.
An evening breeze:
water lapping the heron's legs.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
gills puffing,
a hooked fish:
the patient
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The stirred morning air
ruffles the hair
of a caterpillar.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Intruder!
This white plum tree
was once outside our fence!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Tender grass
forgetful of its roots
the willow
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I believe the poem above can be taken as commentary on ungrateful children. It reminds me of Robert Hayden's 'Those Winter Sundays.'―MRB
Since I'm left here alone,
I'll make friends with the moon.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The hood-wearer
in his self-created darkness
misses the harvest moon
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
White blossoms of the pear tree―
a young woman reading his moonlit letter
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The pear tree flowers whitely:
a young woman reading his letter
by moonlight
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
On adjacent branches
the plum tree blossoms
bloom petal by petal―love!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A misty spring moon...
I entice a woman
to pay it our respects
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Courtesans
purchasing kimonos:
plum trees blossoming
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The spring sea
rocks all day long:
rising and falling, ebbing and flowing...
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As the whale
dives
its tail gets taller!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
While tilling the field
the motionless cloud
vanished.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Even lonelier than last year:
this autumn evening.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My thoughts return to my Mother and Father:
late autumn
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Late autumn:
my thoughts return to my Mother and Father
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This roaring winter wind:
the cataract grates on its rocks.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
While snow lingers
in creases and recesses:
flowers of the plum
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Plowing,
not a single bird sings
in the mountain's shadow
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In the lingering heat
of an abandoned cowbarn
only the sound of the mosquitoes is dark.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The red plum's fallen petals
seem to ignite horse shit.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dawn!
The brilliant sun illuminates
sardine heads.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The abandoned willow shines
between bright rains
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dew-damp grass:
the setting sun's tears
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The dew-damp grass
weeps silently
in the setting sun
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
White plum blossoms―
though the hour grows late,
a glimpse of dawn
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The poem above is believed to be Buson's jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn.
Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is a second interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem) .
In the deepening night
I saw by the light
of the white plum blossoms
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is a third interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem) .
Our life here on earth:
to what shall we compare it?
Perhaps to a rowboat
departing at daybreak,
leaving no trace of us in its wake?
—Takaha Shugyo or Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
But later, river willow,
reopen your buds...
—Senryu, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
Who cares
where aimless clouds are drifting?
—Bufu, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
Like a lotus leaf's evaporating dew,
I vanish.
—Senryu (-1827) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Standing beneath cherry blossoms
who can be strangers?
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
An enormous frog!
We stare at each other,
both petrified.
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Skinny frog,
hang on...
Issa to the rescue!
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Right at my feet!
When did you arrive here,
snail?
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I toss in my sleep,
so watch out,
cricket!
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
In a better world
I'd leave you my rice bowl,
little fly!
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Cries of the wild geese—
spreading rumors about me?
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
While a cicada
sings softly
a single leaf falls...
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Wake up, old tomcat,
then with elaborate yawns and stretchings
prepare to pursue love
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Petals I amass
with such tenderness
prick me to the quick.
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This world of dew
is a world of dew indeed;
and yet...
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This windy nest?
Open your hungry mouth in vain,
Issa, orphaned sparrow!
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The ghostly cow comes
mooing mooing mooing
out of the morning mist
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The snow melts
and the village is flooded with children!
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Full moon—
my ramshackle hut
is an open book.
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, brilliant moon
can it be true
that even you
must rush off, late
for some date?
What does it matter how long I live,
when a tortoise lives many times as long?
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation of his jisei by Michael R. Burch
Don't weep, we are all insects!
Lovers, even the stars themselves,
must eventually part.
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
In our world
we walk suspended over hell
admiring flowers.
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The rutting cat
has grown so scrawny
he's nothing but eyes.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Clinging to each other
beneath an umbrella:
spring rain.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Twos become one:
butterflies.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
No rain
and yet the flowers glisten?
Dew.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Buzzings encircle
a meditating monk:
mosquitoes.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
He's lost so much weight
in the summer heat
even the mosquitoes won't bite.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Autumn's here, crickets,
whether you chirp
or not.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A windy temple:
coins clatter
in the collection box.
—Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
After death
six feet under the frost
will be sufficient cover.
—Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Midwinter thunder
rattles the windowpanes.
—Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bitter winter winds!
Man's end:
this mound of albescent bones,
this brief flowering sure to fade...
—Hamei (-1837) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
When I kick the bucket,
bury me beneath a tavern's cellar wine barrel;
with a little luck the cask will leak.
—Moriya Sen'an (-1838) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Though moss may overgrow
my useless corpse,
the seeds of patriotism shall never decay.
—Nomura Boto (1806-1867) , loose translation/interpretation of her jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Frost on a balmy day:
all I leave is the water
that washed my brush.
—Tanaka Shutei (1810-1858, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
My aging body:
a drop of dew
bulging at the leaf-cliff.
—Kiba (-1868) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Forbearing the night
with its growing brilliance:
the summer moon.
—Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839-1892) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Blow if you must,
autumn wind,
but the flowers have already faded.
—Gansan (-1895) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Time to go...
They say this journey is a long trek:
this final change of robes.
—Roshu (-1899) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
The autumn wind eludes me;
for me there are no gods,
no Buddhas
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Such a small child
banished to become a priest:
frigid Siberia!
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I'm trying to sleep!
Please swat the flies
lightly
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch
After killing a spider,
how lonely I felt
in the frigid night.
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The night flies!
My life,
how much more of it remains?
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch
A summer river:
disdaining the bridge,
my horse gallops through water.
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) loose translation by Michael R. Burch
After the fireworks,
the spectators departed:
how vast and dark the sky!
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I got drunk
then wept in my sleep
dreaming of wild cherry blossoms.
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The moon departs;
frost paralyzes the morning glories.
— Kato (-1908) loose translation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Stumble,
tumble,
fall,
slide down the slippery snow slope.
— Getsurei (-1919) loose translation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Oh, fallen camellias,
if I were you,
I'd leap into the torrent!
—Takaha Shugyo (1930-) translation by Michael R. Burch
Wild geese pass
leaving the emptiness of heaven
revealed
—Takaha Shugyo (1930-) translation by Michael R. Burch
Inside the cracked shell
of a walnut:
one empty room.
—Takaha Shugyo (1930-) translation by Michael R. Burch
Bring me an icicle
sparkling with the stars
of the deep north
—Takaha Shugyo (1930-) translation by Michael R. Burch
Seen from the skyscraper
the trees' fresh greenery:
parsley sprigs
—Takaha Shugyo (1930-) translation by Michael R. Burch
Are the geese flying south?
The candle continues to flicker...
—Takaha Shugyo (1930-) translation by Michael R. Burch
Still clad in its clown's costume—
the dead ladybug.
—Takaha Shugyo (1930-) translation by Michael R. Burch
A single tree,
a heart carved into its trunk,
blossoms prematurely
—Takaha Shugyo (1930-) translation by Michael R. Burch
Dates Unknown
On rain-drenched branches
buds of the apricot tree
swell into blossom,
trembling anxiously,
as if waiting to be deflowered...
—Kazuhiko Ito, translation by Michael R. Burch
Original Haiku and Tanka
by Michael R. Burch
These are original haiku and tanka written by Michael R. Burch, along with haiku-like and tanka-like poems inspired by the forms but not necessarily abiding by all the rules.
Dark-bosomed clouds
pregnant with heavy thunder...
the water breaks
―Michael R. Burch
The poem above is my favorite of my original haiku. I wrote it while working on translations of haiku by the Oriental masters. Here's another one I particularly like:
one pillow...
our dreams
merge
―Michael R. Burch
The Original Sin: Rhyming Haiku!
Haiku
should never rhyme:
it's a crime!
―Michael R. Burch
The herons stand,
sentry-like, at attention...
rigid observers of some unknown command.
―Michael R. Burch
Late
fall;
all
the golden leaves turn black underfoot:
soot
―Michael R. Burch
A snake in the grass
lies, hissing
'Trespass! '
―Michael R. Burch
Honeysuckle
blesses my knuckle
with affectionate dew
―Michael R. Burch
My nose nuzzles
honeysuckle's
sweet nothings
―Michael R. Burch
The day's eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.
―Michael R. Burch
The moon in decline
like my lover's heart
lies far beyond mine
―Michael R. Burch
My mother's eyes
acknowledging my imperfection:
dejection
―Michael R. Burch
The sun sets
the moon fails to rise
we avoid each other's eyes
―Michael R. Burch
There are more rhyming haiku later on this page...
Iffy Coronavirus Haiku
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #1
by michael r. burch
plagued by the Plague
i plague the goldfish
with my verse
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #2
by michael r. burch
sunflowers
hang their heads
embarrassed by their coronas
I wrote the poem above after having a sunflower arrangement delivered to my mother, who is in an assisted living center and can't have visitors due to the coronavirus pandemic.
Homework (yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #3)
by michael r. burch
Dim bulb overhead,
my silent companion:
still imitating the noonday sun?
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #4
by michael r. burch
Spring fling—
children string flowers
into their face masks
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #5
by michael r. burch
the Thought counts:
our lips and fingers
insulated by plexiglass...
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #6
by michael r. burch
masks, masks
everywhere
and not a straw to drink...
Dark Cloud, Silver Lining
by Michael R. Burch
Despite my stormy demeanor,
my hands have never been cleaner!
New World Order (last in a series and perhaps of a species)
by Michael R. Burch
The days of the dandelions dawn...
soon man will be gone:
fertilizer.
Untitled Haiku
Dark-bosomed clouds
pregnant with heavy thunder...
the water breaks
―Michael R. Burch
one pillow...
our dreams
merge
―Michael R. Burch
Crushed grapes
surrender such sweetness!
A mother's compassion.
―Michael R. Burch
My footprints
so faint in the snow?
Ah yes, you lifted me.
―Michael R. Burch
An emu feather
still falling?
So quickly you rushed to my rescue.
―Michael R. Burch
The sun warms
a solitary stone.
Let us abandon no one.
―Michael R. Burch
The eagle sees farther
from its greater height—
our ancestors' wisdom
―Michael R. Burch
The ability
to disagree agreeably—
civility.
―Michael R. Burch
She bathes in silver
~~~~~ afloat ~~~~~
on her reflections...
—Michael R. Burch
Celebrate the New Year?
The cat is not impressed,
the dogs shiver.
—Michael R. Burch
Cats are seldom impressed by human accomplishments, while the canine members of our family have always hated fireworks and other unexpected loud noises.
You astound me,
your name
unpronounceable on my lips.
―Michael R. Burch
You astound me;
your name on my lips
remains unpronounceable.
―Michael R. Burch
Born into the delicate autumn,
too late to mature,
pale petal...
―Michael R. Burch
Soft as daffodils fall
all the lamentations
of life's smallest victims,
unheard...
―Michael R. Burch
Variations on Fall
Farewells like
falling
leaves,
so many sad goodbyes.
―Michael R. Burch
Falling leaves
brittle hearts
whisper farewells
―Michael R. Burch
Autumn leaves
soft farewells
falling...
falling...
falling...
―Michael R. Burch
Autumn leaves
Fall's farewells
Whispered goodbyes
―Michael R. Burch
Variations on the Seasons
by Michael R. Burch
Mother earth
prepares her nurseries:
spring greening
The trees become
modest,
coy behind fans
*
Wobbly fawns
have become the fleetest athletes:
summer
*
Dry leaves
scuttle like crabs:
autumn
*
The sky
shivers:
snowfall
each
translucent flake
lighter than eiderdown
the entire town entombed
but not in gloom,
bedazzled.
Variations on Night
Night,
ice and darkness
conspire against human warmth
―Michael R. Burch
Night and the Stars
conspire against me:
Immensity
―Michael R. Burch
in the ice-cold cathedral
prayer candles ablaze
flicker warmthlessly
―Michael R. Burch
Variations on the Arts
by Michael R. Burch
Paint peeling:
the novel's
novelty wears off...
The autumn marigold's
former glory:
allegory.
Human arias?
The nightingale frowns, perplexed.
Tone deaf!
Where do cynics
finally retire?
Satire.
All the world's
a stage
unless it's a cage.
To write an epigram,
cram.
If you lack wit, scram.
Haiku
should never rhyme:
it's a crime!
Video
dumped the boob tube
for YouTube.
Anyone
can rap:
just write rhythmic crap!
Variations on Lingerie
by Michael R. Burch
Were you just a delusion?
The black negligee you left
now merest illusion.
The clothesline
quivers,
ripe with unmentionables.
The clothesline quivers:
wind,
or ghosts?
Variations on Love and Wisdom
by Michael R. Burch
Wise old owls
stare myopically at the moon,
hooting as the hart escapes.
Myopic moon-haunted owls
hoot as the hart escapes
The myopic owl,
moon-intent, scowls;
my rabbit heart thunders...
Peace, wise fowl!
Tanka
All the wild energies
of electric youth
captured in the monochromes
of an ancient photobooth
like zigzagging lightning.
―Michael R. Burch
The plums were sweet,
icy and delicious.
To eat them all
was perhaps malicious.
But I vastly prefer your kisses!
―Michael R. Burch
A child waving...
The train groans slowly away...
Loneliness...
Somewhere in the distance gusts
scatter the stray unharvested hay...
―Michael R. Burch
How vaguely I knew you
however I held you close...
your heart's muffled thunder,
your breath the wind―
rising and dying.
―Michael R. Burch
Miscellanea
sheer green stockings
queer green beer
St. Patrick's Day!
―Michael R. Burch
cicadas chirping everywhere
singing to beat the band―
surround sound
―Michael R. Burch
Regal, upright,
clad in royal purple:
Zinnia
―Michael R. Burch
Love is a surreal sweetness
in a world where trampled grapes
become wine.
―Michael R. Burch
although meant for market
a pail full of strawberries
invites indulgence
―Michael R. Burch
late November;
skeptics scoff
but the geese no longer migrate
―Michael R. Burch
as the butterfly hunts nectar
the generous iris
continues to bloom
―Michael R. Burch
Ascendance Transcendence
by Michael R. Burch
Breaching the summit
I reach
the horizon's last rays.
Sudden Shower
by Michael R. Burch
The day's eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.
Imperfect Perfection
by Michael R. Burch
You're too perfect for words―
a problem for a poet.
Intimations
by Michael R. Burch
Show me your most intimate items of apparel;
begin with the hem of your quicksilver slip...
Expert Advice
by Michael R. Burch
Your breasts are perfect for your lithe, slender body.
Please stop making false comparisons your hobby!
Autumn Conundrum
by Michael R. Burch
It's not that every leaf must finally fall,
it's just that we can never catch them all.
Childless
by Michael R. Burch
How can she bear her grief?
Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight
of one fallen star.
Laughter's Cry
by Michael R. Burch
Because life is a mystery, we laugh
and do not know the half.
Because death is a mystery, we cry
when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry.
The Reason for the Rain (II)
by Michael R. Burch
The sky was blue
until you appeared
and it wept at your beauty.
Flight
by Michael R. Burch
It is the nature of loveliness to vanish
as butterfly wings, batting against nothingness
seek transcendence...
Brittle autumn leaf,
no one informed me
you were my life!
—Michael R. Burch
Valentine Haiku #1
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
A leaf brushes my cheek:
a subtle lover's
gentlest caress.
Valentine Haiku #2
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
Teach me to love:
to fly beyond sterile Mars
to percolating Venus.
The Ultimate Haiku Against God
by Michael R. Burch
Because you made a world
where nothing matters,
our hearts lie in tatters.
Early robins
get the worms,
cats waiting to pounce.
—Michael R. Burch
Sleepyheads!
I recite my haiku
to the inattentive lilies.
—Michael R. Burch
Am I really this old,
so many ghosts
beckoning?
—Michael R. Burch
The sky tries to assume
your eyes' azure
but can't quite pull it off.
—Michael R. Burch
The sky tries to assume
your eyes' arresting blue
but can't quite pull it off.
—Michael R. Burch
Two bullheaded frogs
croaking belligerently:
election season.
—Michael R. Burch
An enterprising cricket
serenades the sunrise:
soloist.
—Michael R. Burch
A single cricket
serenades the sunrise:
solo violinist.
—Michael R. Burch
Here's a poem composed of haiku-like stanzas:
Dandelion
by Michael R. Burch
Lift up your head
dandelion,
hear spring roar!
How will you tidy your hair
this near
summer?
Leave to each still night
your lightest affliction,
dandruff.
Soon you will free yourself:
one shake
of your white mane.
Now there are worlds
into which you appear
and disappear
seemingly at will
but invariably blown
wildly, then still.
Gasp at the bright chill
glower
of winter.
Icicles splinter;
sleep still an hour,
till, resurrected in power,
you lift up your head,
dandelion.
Hear spring roar!
More Rhyming Haiku
Dry leaf flung awry:
bright butterfly,
goodbye!
―Michael R. Burch
brief leaf flung awry ~
bright butterfly, goodbye!
―Michael R. Burch
leaf flutters in flight ~
bright, O and endeavoring butterfly,
goodbye!
―Michael R. Burch
a soaring kite flits
into the heart of the sun?
Butterfly & Chrysanthemum
―Michael R. Burch
The girl with the pallid lips
lipsticks
into something less comfortable
―Michael R. Burch
I am a traveler
going nowhere,
but my how the gawking bystanders stare!
―Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: Haiku, Tanka, coronavirus, nature, love, heart, family, mother, son, seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter, sun, moon, rhyme, rhymed, mrbhaiku
New Haiku Translations, Added 10/6/2020
Air ballet:
twin butterflies, twice white,
meet, match & mate
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Denied transformation
into a butterfly,
autumn worsens for the worm
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dusk-gliding swallow,
please spare my small friends
flitting among the flowers!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Up and at 'em! The sky goes bright!
Let's hit the road again,
Companion Butterfly!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Higher than a skylark,
resting on the breast of heaven:
mountain pass.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Farewell,
my cloud-parting friend!
Wild goose migrating.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A crow settles
on a leafless branch:
autumn nightfall.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An exciting struggle
with such a sad ending:
cormorant fishing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Secretly,
by the light of the moon,
a worm bores into a chestnut.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This strange flower
investigated by butterflies and birds:
the autumn sky
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Where's the moon tonight?
Like the temple bell:
lost at sea.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring departs;
birds wail;
the pale eyes of fish moisten.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon still appears,
though far from home:
summer vagrant.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cooling the pitiless sun's
bright red flames:
autumn wind.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Saying farewell to others
while being told farewell:
departing autumn.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Traveling this road alone:
autumn evening.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Thin from its journey
and not yet recovered:
late harvest moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Occasional clouds
bless tired eyes with rest
from moon-viewing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The farmboy
rests from husking rice
to reach for the moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon aside,
no one here
has such a lovely face.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon having set,
all that remains
are the four corners of his desk.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon so bright
a wandering monk carries it
lightly on his shoulder.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The Festival of Souls
is obscured
by smoke from the crematory.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The Festival of Souls!
Smoke from the crematory?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Family reunion:
those with white hair and canes
visiting graves.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One who is no more
left embroidered clothes
for a summer airing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What am I doing,
writing haiku on the threshold of death?
Hush, a bird's song!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fallen ill on a final tour,
in dreams I go roving
earth's flowerless moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Stricken ill on a senseless tour,
still in dreams I go roving
earth's withered moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Stricken ill on a journey,
in dreams I go wandering
withered moors.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
New Haiku Translations, added 6/27/2022
As the monks sip their morning tea,
chrysanthemums quietly blossom.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The fragrance of plum blossoms
on a foggy path:
the sun rising.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The sea darkens...
yet still faintly white
the wild duck protests.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pear tree blossoms
whitened by moonlight:
a young woman reading a letter.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Outlined in the moonlight...
who is that standing
among the pear trees?
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your coolness:
the sound of the bell
departing the bell.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As the moon flies west
the flowers' shadows
creep eastward.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
By such pale moonlight
even the wisteria's fragrance
seems distant.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Leaves
like crows' shadows
flirt with a lonely moon.
Kaga no Chiyo (1703-1775) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let me die
covered with flowers
and never again wake to this earthly dream!
—Ochi Etsujin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To reveal how your heart flowers,
sway like the summer grove.
—Tagami Kikusha-Ni (1753-1826) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In the thicket's shade
a solitary woman sings the rice-planting song.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Unaware of these degenerate times,
cherry blossoms abound!
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These silent summer nights
even the stars
seem to whisper.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The enormous firefly
weaves its way, this way and that,
as it passes by.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Composed like the Thinker, he sits
contemplating the mountains:
the sagacious frog!
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A fallen blossom
returning to its bough?
No, a butterfly!
Arakida Moritake (1473-1549) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water...
Hattori Ransetsu (1654-1707) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
Masaoki Shiki (1867-1902) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
Masaoki Shiki (1867-1902) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama (1874-1959) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch
As girls gather rice sprouts
reflections of the rain ripple
on the backs of their hats.
—Kyoshi Takahama (1874-1959) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This world?
Moonlit dew
flicked from a crane's bill.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To what shall we compare this world?
To moonlit dew
flicked from a crane's bill.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dewdrops beading grass-blades
die before dawn;
may an untimely wind not hasten their departure!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dewdrops beading blades of grass
have so little time to shine before dawn;
let the autumn wind not rush too quickly through the field!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Seventy-one?
How long
can a dewdrop last?
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Outside my window the plums, blossoming,
within their curled buds, contain the spring;
the moon is reflected in the cup-like whorls
of the lovely flowers I gather and twirl.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Unaware it protects
the hilltop paddies,
the scarecrow seems useless to itself.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
New haiku translations added 8-25-2023
Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ceaseless chaos—
ice floes clash
in the Soya straits.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Once they've crossed the sea,
winter winds can never return.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Banish the snow
for the human torpedo
now lies exploded.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
(My interpretation is that the haiku above is about WWII kamikaze pilots. Winter is metaphorically the season of death and snow may be seen as a shroud for the dead. So here the poet may be saying, metaphorically, something like 'We don't need shrouds because our pilots are blowing themselves up.')
The sky hangs low
over Karafuto,
as white as the spawning herring.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Green bottle flies
buzzing carrion:
did they just materialize?
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Finally
the cicadas stopped shrilling:
calm before gale.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As grief becomes unbearable
someone snaps a nearby branch.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As grief reaches its breaking point
someone snaps a nearby branch.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Trapped in the spider's web
the firefly's bulb
blinks out forever.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Trapped in the spider's web
The firefly's light
Is swiftly consumed.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Seishi Yamaguchi has been said to represent 'a pinnacle of haiku in twentieth-century Japan.'
Graven images of long-departed gods,
dry spiritless leaves:
companions of the temple porch
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
See: whose surviving sons
visit the ancestral graves
white-bearded, with trembling canes?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I remove my beautiful kimono:
its varied braids
surround and entwine my body
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This day of chrysanthemums
I shake and comb my wet hair,
as their petals shed rain
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This sheer kimono—
how the moon peers through
to my naked skin!
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
These festive flowery robes—
though quickly undressed,
how their colored cords still continue to cling!
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Chrysanthemum petals
reveal their pale curves
shyly to the moon.
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Loneliness —
reading the Bible
as the rain deflowers cherry blossoms.
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
How deep this valley,
how elevated the butterfly's flight!
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
How lowly this valley,
how lofty the butterfly's flight!
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Echoes from the hills—
the mountain cuckoo sings as it will,
trill upon trill
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Winter in the air:
my neighbor,
how does he fare?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let's arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there's no rice
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Please arrange
these delicate flowers in the bowl
since we lack rice
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Kim Cherub
An ancient pond,
the frog leaps:
the silver plop and gurgle of water
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An ancient pond sleeps, quiet and still...
untroubled... until...
suddenly a frog leaps!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Big old pond,
the little frog leaps:
Kerplash!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Explosion!
The frog returns
to its lily pad.
—Michael R. Burch
The first soft snow:
leaves of the awed jonquil
bow low
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, investigate loneliness:
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The first chill rain, so raw!
Poor monkey, you too could use
a woven cape of straw.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fever-felled mid-path
my dreams resurrect, to trek
into a hollow land
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This snowy morning:
cries of the crow I despise
(ah, but so beautiful!)
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The cheerful-chirping cricket
contends gray autumn's gay,
contemptuous of frost
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Whistle on, twilight whippoorwill,
solemn evangelist
of loneliness
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The sea darkening,
the voices of the wild ducks:
my mysterious companions!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lightning
shatters the darkness—
the night heron's shriek
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As the monks sip their morning tea,
chrysanthemums quietly blossom.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The fragrance of plum blossoms
on a foggy path:
the sun rising.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The sea darkens...
yet still faintly white
the wild duck protests.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let me die
covered with flowers
and never again wake to this earthly dream!
—Ochi Etsujin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To reveal how your heart flowers,
sway like the summer grove.
—Tagami Kikusha-Ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In the thicket's shade
a solitary woman sings the rice-planting song.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Unaware of these degenerate times,
cherry blossoms abound!
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These silent summer nights
even the stars
seem to whisper.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The enormous firefly
weaves its way, this way and that,
as it passes by.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Composed like the Thinker, he sits
contemplating the mountains:
the sagacious frog!
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A fallen blossom
returning to its bough?
No, a butterfly!
—Arakida Moritake, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water...
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
—Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
—Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
As girls gather rice sprouts
reflections of the rain ripple
on the backs of their hats.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Will we remain parted forever?
Here at your grave:
two flowerlike butterflies
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These wilting August weeds?
The only remains
of warriors' ambitions...
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These brown summer grasses?
The only remains
of 'invincible' warriors...
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An empty road
lonelier than abandonment:
this autumn evening
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring has come:
the nameless hill
lies shrouded in mist
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
autumn twilight
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
nightfall
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Right at my feet!
When did you arrive here,
snail?
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
While a cicada
sings softly
a single leaf falls...
—Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, brilliant moon
is it true that even you
must rush off, tardy?
—Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, brilliant moon
can it be true
that even you
must rush off, late
for some date?
—Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This world of dew
is a dewdrop world indeed;
and yet, and yet...
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Standing beneath cherry blossoms
who can be strangers?
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An enormous frog!
We stare at each other,
both petrified.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Skinny frog,
hang on...
Issa to the rescue!
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I toss in my sleep,
so watch out,
cricket!
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In a better world
I'd leave you my rice bowl,
little fly!
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Petals I amass
with such tenderness
prick me to the quick.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Standing unsteadily,
I am the scarecrow's
skinny surrogate
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Brief autumn breeze...
she always wanted to pluck
the reddest roses
—Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is a haiku Issa wrote after the death of his daughter Sato with the note: 'Sato, girl,35th day, at the grave.'
In our world
we walk suspended over hell
admiring flowers.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The childless woman,
how tenderly she caresses
homeless dolls...
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Clinging
to the plum tree:
one blossom's worth of warmth
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One leaf falls, enlightenment!
Another leaf falls,
swept away by the wind...
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Disdaining grass,
the firefly nibbles nettles—
this is who I am.
—Takarai Kikaku, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A simple man,
content to breakfast with the morning glories—
this is who I am.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is Basho's response to the Takarai Kikaku haiku above
The morning glories, alas,
also turned out
not to embrace me
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The morning glories bloom,
mending chinks
in the old fence
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Morning glories,
however poorly painted,
still engage us
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My dear Basho,
I too have been accused
of morning glory gazing!
—original haiku by Michael R. Burch
Taming the rage
of an unrelenting sun—
autumn breeze.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The sun sets,
relentlessly red,
yet autumn's in the wind.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As autumn deepens,
a butterfly sips
chrysanthemum dew.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As autumn draws near,
so too our hearts
in this small tea room.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Nothing happened!
Yesterday simply vanished
like the blowfish soup.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The surging sea crests around Sado...
and above her?
An ocean of stars.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Revered figure!
I bow low
to the rabbit-eared Iris.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, butterfly,
it's late
and we've a long way to go!
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Nothing in the cry
of the cicadas
suggests they soon die.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I wish I could wash
this perishing earth
in its shimmering dew.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring!
A nameless hill
shrouded in mist.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dabbed with morning dew
and splashed with mud,
the melon looks wonderfully cool.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cold white azalea—
a lone nun
in her thatched straw hut.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Glimpsed on this high mountain trail,
delighting my heart—
wild violets
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The bee emerging
from deep within the peony's hairy recesses
flies off heavily, sated
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A crow has settled
on a naked branch—
autumn nightfall
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Except for a woodpecker
tapping at a post,
the house is silent.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
That dying cricket,
how he goes on about his life!
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Like a glorious shrine—
on these green, budding leaves,
the sun's intense radiance.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A kite floats
at the same place in the sky
where yesterday it floated...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Not to worry spiders,
I clean house... sparingly.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dawn!
The brilliant sun illuminates
sardine heads.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Thorny roses
remind me of my hometown...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Nearing the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
White blossoms of the pear tree:
a young woman
reading her lover's moonlit letter
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The pear tree flowers whitely:
a young woman reading her lover's letter
by moonlight
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pear tree blossoms
whitened by moonlight:
a young woman reading a letter.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Outlined in the moonlight...
who is that standing
among the pear trees?
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The pigeon's behavior
is beyond reproach,
but the mountain cuckoo's?
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your coolness:
the sound of the bell
departing the bell.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As the moon flies west
the flowers' shadows
creep eastward.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
By such pale moonlight
even the wisteria's fragrance
seems distant.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
On the temple's great bronze gong
a butterfly
snoozes.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Hard to describe:
this light sensation of being pinched
by a butterfly!
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
gills puffing,
a hooked fish:
the patient
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In an ancient well
fish leap for mosquitoes,
a dark sound.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In the lingering heat
of an abandoned cowbarn
mosquitoes hum darkly.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Among fallen leaves,
an elderly frog.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The stirred morning air
ruffles the caterpillar's
hair
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Whose delicate clothes
still decorate the clothesline?
Late autumn wind.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Tender grass
forgetful of its roots
the willow
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
NOTE: I believe this poem can be taken as commentary on ungrateful children. It reminds me of Robert Hayden's 'Those Winter Sundays.—MRB
Intruder! —
This white plum tree
was once outside our fence!
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Since I'm left here alone,
I'll make friends with the moon.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The hood-wearer
in his self-created darkness
misses the harvest moon
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
An evening breeze:
water lapping the heron's legs.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A misty spring moon...
I entice a woman
to pay it our respects
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Courtesans
purchasing kimonos:
plum trees blossoming
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
On adjacent branches
the plum tree blossoms
bloom petal by petal: love!
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The red plum's fallen petals
seem to ignite horse shit.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The spring sea
rocks all day long:
rising and falling, ebbing and flowing...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
As the whale dives
its tail gets taller!
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
A silk robe, casually discarded,
exudes fragrance
into the darkening evening
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
While tilling the field
the motionless cloud
vanished.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Dew-damp grass:
the setting sun's tears
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
PN-
The dew-damp grass
weeps silently
in the setting sun
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
White plum blossoms —
though the hour grows late,
a glimpse of dawn
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch; this is believed to be Buson's jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn
In the deepening night
I saw by the light
of the white plum blossoms
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Silently observing
the bottomless mountain lake:
water lilies
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Cranes
flapping ceaselessly
test the sky's upper limits
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Falling snowflakes'
glitter
tinsels the sea
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Blizzards here on earth,
blizzards of stars
in the sky
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Completely encircled
in emerald:
the glittering swamp!
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The new calendar:
as if tomorrow
is assured...
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The new calendar:
as if tomorrow
can be predicted
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ah butterfly,
what dreams do you ply
with your beautiful wings?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Because morning glories
held my well-bucket hostage
I went begging for water!
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My well-bucket being held hostage
by morning glories,
I went begging for water.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Since my well-bucket's
being held hostage by morning glories,
I go begging for water.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To listen, fine...
fine also not to echo,
nightingale.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch, she wrote this poem in calligraphy on a portrait of Matsuo Basho
Upon her engagement to the servant of a samurai:
Will it be bitter,
the first time I bite
an unripe persimmon?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Written for her only son, who died:
My little dragonfly hunter:
how far away has he wandered
I wonder?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Her husband died when she was 27 years old:
Rising, I see,
and reclining I see
the web of the mosquito netting...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
After she had shaved her head, become a nun and retired from public life:
No more
fixing my hair,
merely warming my hands by the fire...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Leaves
like crows' shadows
flirt with a lonely moon.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon settled
in a flower-strewn stream
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My elderly parents
become my children:
strident cicadas
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Illuminating
my fishing line:
the midsummer moon.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Auspicious straw!
Even the compost
looks glorious!
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How alarming:
her scarlet fingernails
tending the white chrysanthemums!
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Whatever...
Leave it to the weather:
withered pampas grass.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Heat waves shimmering
above the wettened rock...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon:
a morning blur
amid cherry blossoms
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Loneliness
abides within the listener:
the cuckoo's call
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Skylark,
what do you make
of the trackless sky?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Returning
from moon-viewing:
we humans, voiceless.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The harvest moon
illuminates these snowdrifts
I trample.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How contentedly they snore
in the boondocks:
full moon
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The butterfly tip-toes at ebb-tide
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Along her path
butterflies flit,
front and back
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Voiceless
as a butterfly:
the Buddhist service
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Whirling its wings
the butterfly
creates its own wind...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The waterweed
washes away
unaware of the butterfly's weight
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now and then
a dandelion intrudes
on a butterfly's dreams
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sometimes a butterfly
emerges from the mist...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A butterfly settles on
cherry blossoms:
nap time!
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Moonflowers blossom:
a woman's nakedness
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My painted lips
purified:
crystalline springwater
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A woman's desire:
the wild violets'
entangled roots
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Her day off:
the prostitute wakes
to a frigid morning.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
With the waning moon
silence enters the heart.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
We stoop to pick up ebb-tide pebbles.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ebb-tide:
everything we stoop to collect
slips through our fingers...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To entangle
or unentangle the willow
is the wind's will.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Inflating the frog's belly: looming downpour
Inflating the frog's belly: pregnant thunderheads
The frog inflates: monsoon soon
The frog inflates: prophet of the deluge
Thunderclouds inflating: the frog's belly
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Her death poem:
Having seen the moon
I can bid Earth
farewell...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Isn't it good
to wake up alone,
unencumbered?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
She wakes up
alone,
unencumbered.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Her body-debt paid
she wakes alone—
a frigid night.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Coolness—
strangers meet on a bridge
late at night.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
A woman's passion
flowers from the roots—
wild violets.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Also a poet arranging words
with its airy wings—
the butterfly.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
It's child's play for the cranes
circling the clouds
to celebrate the year's first sunrise
Cicadas chirp
oblivious to death.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring
stirs the clouds
in the sky's teabowl
—Kikusha-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Tonight I saw
how the peony crumples
in the fire's embers
—Katoh Shuhson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
It fills me with anger,
this moon; it fills me
and makes me whole
—Takeshita Shizunojo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
War
stood at the end of the hall
in the long shadows
—Watanabe Hakusen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Because he is slow to wrath,
I tackle him, then wring his neck
in the long grass
—Shimazu Ryoh, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Pale mountain sky:
cherry petals play
as they tumble earthward
—Kusama Tokihiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The frozen moon,
the frozen lake:
two oval mirrors reflecting each other.
—Hashimoto Takako, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The bitter winter wind
ends here
with the frozen sea
—Ikenishi Gonsui, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Bitter winter wind,
why bellow so
when there's no leaves to blow?
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The lamp extinguished,
once-distant stars
enter my window.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter waves
roil
their own shadows
—Tominaga Fûsei, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
No sky,
no land:
just snow eternally falling...
—Kajiwara Hashin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Along with spring leaves
my child's teeth
take root, blossom
—Nakamura Kusatao, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Stillness:
a single chestnut leaf glides
on brilliant water
—Ryuin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The snake slipped away
but his eyes, holding mine,
still stare in the grass
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Girls gather rice sprouts:
reflections of the water flicker
on the backs of their hats
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Murmurs follow the hay cart
this blossoming summer day
—Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The wet nurse
paused to consider a bucket of sea urchins
then walked away
—Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
May I be with my mother
wearing her summer kimono
by the morning window
—Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The hands of a woman exist
to remove the entrails of the spring cuttlefish
—Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The moon
hovering above the snow-capped mountains
rained down hailstones
—Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, dreamlike winter butterfly:
a puff of white snow
cresting mountains
—Kakio Tomizawa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Spring snow
cascades over fences
in white waves
—Suju Takano, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Ono no Komachi Translations
These are my modern English translations of the ancient Japanese poems of Ono no Komachi…
Ono no Komachi translations
These are my modern English translations of the ancient Japanese poems of Ono no Komachi, who wrote tanka (also known as waka) and was renowned for the beauty of her verse as well as for her physical beauty. Komachi is best known today for her pensive, melancholic and erotic love poems. Her bio follows the poems.
If fields of autumn flowers
can shed their blossoms, shameless,
why can't I also frolic here —
as fearless, wild and blameless?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I had thought to pluck
the flower of forgetfulness
only to find it
already blossoming in his heart.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
So cruelly severed,
a root-cut reed…
if the river offered,
why not be freed?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XVIII: 938) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The wildflowers and my love
wilted with the rain
as I idly wondered
where in the past does love remain?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 782) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Alas, the beauty of the flowers came to naught
as I watched the rain, lost in melancholic thought…
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 113) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sad,
the end that awaits me —
to think that before autumn yields
I'll be a pale mist
shrouding these rice fields.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 822) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Abandonment
This abandoned mountain shack —
how many nights
has autumn sheltered there?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Am I to spend the night alone
atop this summit,
cold and lost?
Won't you at least lend me
your robes of moss?
—Ono no Komachi (GSS XVII: 1195) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Komachi wrote her poem about a visit she made to a temple. The moss robe refers to the coarse clothing worn by Buddhist monks and priests. The next poem was Henjo's clever reply to the famous beauty:
Alas, my moss robe has just one layer,
yet not to share it would be inhospitable...
Come, let's sleep together!
—Henjo (GSS XVII: 1196) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ancient Feminism
Submit to you — is that what you advise?
The way ripples do
whenever ill winds arise?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Submit to you —
is that what you're saying?
The way ripples do
whenever hot air is splaying?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
If fields of autumn flowers
can shed their blossoms, shameless,
why can't I also frolic here —
as fearless, wild and blameless?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Autumn Rains and Wilted Flowers
Time is a harsh mistress. Autumn rains and wilting flowers are metaphors for Komachi's tears over her loss of beauty and happiness as she aged...
Alas, the beauty of the flowers came to naught
as I watched the rain, lost in melancholy thought…
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 113) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Once-colorful flowers faded,
while in my drab cell
life's impulse also abated
as the long rains fell.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 113) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This flower's color
has drained away,
while in idle thoughts
my life drained away
as the long rains fell.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 113) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now that I approach
life's inevitable winter
your ardor has faded
like blossoms left limp
by late autumn rains.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 113) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Two things wilt without warning,
bleeding away their colors:
a flower and a man's heart.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 797) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Watching the long, dismal rains
inundating the earth,
my heart too is washed out, bleeds off
with the colors of the late spring flowers.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 797) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I had thought to pluck
the flower of forgetfulness
only to find it
already blossoming in his heart.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
'It's over! '
Your words drizzle like dismal rains,
reducing me to tears
as I wilt with my years.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 782) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My body has wilted with late autumn rains;
now even your leaves lie colorless and scattered.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 782) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The colorless, scattered leaves might be those of love letters and books.
Like flowers wilted by drenching rains,
my beauty has faded in the onslaught of my forlorn years.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 782) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ono no Sadaki wrote the following poem in response:
Heart,
if you were the last leaf on a barren tree,
then, and only then,
in obedience to the wind,
would you wisely fall and be consumed.
—Ono no Sadaki (KKS XV: 783) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
So lately severed,
a root-cut reed,
if the river offered,
why not be freed?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XVIII: 938) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This aimlessly floating body?
This reed severed from its roots?
If the river offered me freedom
I think I'd follow…
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XVIII: 938) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wretched water-weed that I am,
severed from all roots:
should the rapids entice me,
why not welcome their lethal shoots?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XVIII: 938) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How brilliantly
tears rain upon my sleeve
in bright gemlets,
for my despair cannot be withstood,
like a surging flood!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 557) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Foolish teardrops, indeed, to form beads on a sleeve:
mine deluge the earth, undammable!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 557) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Komachi wrote her poem in reply to one by Abe no Kiyoyuki about tears his sleeve could not contain.
Watching wan moonlight flooding tree limbs,
my heart also brims,
overflowing with autumn.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Watching wan moonlight
illuminate bare limbs,
my heart also brims,
overflowing with autumn.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sad,
the end that awaits me —
to think that before autumn yields
I'll be a pale mist
shrouding these rice fields.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 822) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now bitterly I watch fierce winds
battering the rice stalks,
suspecting I'll never again
find anything to harvest.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 822) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In this dismal world
the living decrease
as the dead increase…
Oh, how much longer
must I bear this body of grief?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Preferring Dreams to Reality
In eye-opening daylight
much stands revealed,
but when I see myself
reflected in hostile eyes
even dreams become nightmares.
Such wretchedness!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 656) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Terrible reality!
You must do as you must, I suppose.
But even protected in dreams from prying eyes,
to watch you still pains me so!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 656) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Since my body
was neglected by the one
who had promised faithfully to come,
I now lie here questioning its existence.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As I slept in isolation
my desired beloved appeared to me;
therefore, dreams have become my reality
and consolation.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 553) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Did you appear
only because I was lost in love-thoughts
when I nodded off, day-dreaming of you?
(If I had known that you
couldn't possibly be true
I'd have never awakened!)
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 552) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I nodded off thinking about you
only to have you appear in my dreams.
Had I known that I slept,
I'd have never awakened!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 552) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Though I visit him nightly in my dreams,
the sum of all such ethereal trysts
is still less than one actual, solid glimpse.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 658) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Though I visit you
continually in my dreams,
the sum of all such ethereal trysts
is still less than one actual, solid glimpse.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 658) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I pursue you ceaselessly in my dreams…
yet we've never met; we're not even acquainted!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 658) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I think of you ceaselessly, with love…
and so … come to me tonight,
for in the flight of dreams,
no one can disapprove!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 657) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Yielding to a love
that recognizes no boundaries,
I will approach him by night—
for the world cannot despise
a vagabond dreamer.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 657) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Yielding to dreams of limitless love,
a love with no boundaries,
I shall come tonight on the uncensored path
of a vagabond dreamer.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 657) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Night Sweats and Desire
These moonless nights,
with no way to meet him,
I grow restless with longing:
my breast's an inferno,
my heart chars within me.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIX: 1030) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I would meet him tonight
but the moon lights no path;
my desire for him,
smoldering in my breast,
chars my heart to ash!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIX: 1030) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These moonless nights,
when no star lights your way to me,
I lie awake, blazing with longing,
my breast an inferno,
while my heart chars within me.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIX: 1030) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Overwhelmed by desire
in the lily-seed darkness,
tonight I'll turn my robe inside-out.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 554) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I ache so intensely
in the lily-seed night
that I'll turn my yakuta inside-out.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 554) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Japanese folklore held that if you wore your nightclothes inside-out, you'd see the person you desired in your dreams. A yakuta is a casual version of the kimono tied loosely with a sash and worn for bathing and sleeping.
Sleepless with loneliness,
I find myself longing for the handsome moon.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love and Loneliness
This unbreakable shackle, love,
chains me to this world of pain.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XVIII: 939) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
That which men call 'love' —
is it not merely the shackling chain
preventing my escape
from this world of pain?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XVIII: 939) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This 'love' men tout and proclaim—
is it not merely the shackles
preventing my escape from this world of pain?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XVIII: 939) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love is man's most unbreakable bond.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XVIII: 939) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fiery coals searing my body
hurt me far less than the sorrow of separation.
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XX: 1104) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Am I to spend the night alone
atop this summit,
cold and lost?
Won't you at least lend me
your robes of moss?
—Ono no Komachi (GSS XVII: 1195) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This abandoned mountain shack —
how many nights
has autumn sheltered there?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This vain life!
My looks and talents faded
like these cherry blossoms left limp
by endless dismal rains
that I now survey, alone.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fishermen
Since there's obviously nothing to catch
in this barren bay,
how can he fail to understand—
this fisherman who persists in coming
until he collapses in the sand?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 623) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There's nothing to catch here in this barren bay,
so how can he fail to understand—
this fisherman who persists in angling
until his weary legs collapse in the sand?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 623) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Am I a guide to rural fisherfolk?
What do I care where the anemones dwell?
Why ask me to reveal the inlet,
lead you to some dewy shell?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIV: 727) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What do I know of villages
where fisherfolk dwell?
Why do you keep demanding
that I lead you to the inlet,
guide you to some pearly shell?
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIV: 727) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Compelled by my longing,
I boarded desire's drifting boat;
where I now float aimlessly,
with wave-drenched sleeves.
—Ono no Komachi (GSS XI: 779) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oarless and rudderless,
beyond the help of the fisherfolk,
I'm wearied of crossing and re-crossing the sea...
—Ono no Komachi (GSS XV: 1090) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Flowers blooming but never blossoming,
never ripening to fruits:
the ocean garlanded by whitecaps.
—Ono no Komachi (GSS XIX: 1360) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Over-Hasty Dawn
Autumn nights are overrated,
for we had scarcely gazed into each other's eyes
when the skies were immolated!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 635) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Autumn nights are 'long'
only in verse and song:
for we had just begun
to gaze into each other's eyes
when dawn immolated the skies!
—Ono no Komachi (KKS XIII: 635) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
SOTOBA KOMACHI
Sotoba Komachi (卒塔婆小町) is a modern Noh play by Yukio Mishima (1925-1970) . Mishima's play is based on an ancient work by Kan'ami Kiyotsugu (1333-1384) . The kanji 卒塔婆 means 'stupa' (the dome of a shrine) while the kanji 小町 means 'belle' or 'beautiful woman.' So the title may be interpreted as something like 'Beauty's Shrine' or 'Shrine to Beauty.' Kan'ami was the first playwright to incorporate the Kusemai song and dance style and Dengaku dances into plays. He founded a sarugaku theater group in the Kansai region of Honshu; the troupe later moved to Yamato and formed the Yuzaki theater company, which would become the school of Noh theater.
Excerpts from SOTOBA KOMACHI
by KWANAMI
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Priest of the Koyasan:
We who have built our homes on shallow slopes
now seek solitude in the heart's deep recesses.
Second Priest:
This single thought possessed me:
How I might bring a single seed to flower,
the wisdom of Buddha, the locus of our salvation,
until in despair I donned this dark cassock.
Ono no Komachi:
Lately so severed,
like a root-cut reed,
if the river offered,
why not be freed?
I would gladly go,
but here no wave stirs…
I was once full of pride
now fled with the years,
gone with dark tresses
and with lustrous locks;
I was lithe as a willow
in my springtime frocks;
I once sang like a nightingale
sipping dew;
I was wild as the rose
when the skies shone blue…
in those days before fall
when the long shadows grew.
But now I've grown loathsome
even to whores;
even urchins abhor me;
men treat me with scorn…
Now I am nothing
but a poor, withered bough,
and yet there are wildflowers
in my heart, even now.
Only my body lingers, for my heart left this world long ago!
Priests (together) :
O, piteous, piteous!
Is this the once-fabled flower-bright Komachi,
Komachi the Beautiful,
whose dark brows bridged eyes like young moons;
her face whitest alabaster forever;
whose many damask robes filled cedar-scented closets?
BIO
Ono no Komachi wrote tanka (also known as waka) , the most traditional form of Japanese lyric poetry. She is an excellent representative of the Classical, or Heian, period (circa 794-1185 AD) of Japanese literature, and she is one of the best-known poets of the Kokinshu (circa 905) , the first in a series of anthologies of Japanese poetry compiled by imperial order. She is also one of the Rokkasen — the six best waka poets of the early Heian period, during which poetry was considered the highest art. Renowned for her unusual beauty, Komachi has become a synonym for feminine beauty in Japan. She is also included among the thirty-six Poetry Immortals. It is believed that she was born sometime between 820-830 and that she wrote most of her poems around the middle of the ninth century. She is best known today for her pensive, melancholic and erotic poems. Keywords/Tags: Ono no Komachi waka tanka translation Japanese love women womanhood feminist feminism
Keywords/Tags: Ono no Komachi, Sotoba Komachi, Yukio Mishima, Kan'ami Kiyotsugu, Kan'ami, Kwanami, Noh play, Japan, Japanese, beauty, beautiful, river, heartbreak, heartbroken, poetess, geisha, courtesan, song, dance, girl
Keywords/Tags: haiku, Japanese, translation, Oriental, imagery, metaphor, nature, coronavirus, plague, life, death, nature
Keywords/Tags: Ono no Komachi, Sotoba Komachi, Yukio Mishima, Kan'ami Kiyotsugu, Kan'ami, Kwanami, Noh play, Japan, Japanese, beauty, beautiful, river, heartbreak, heartbroken, poetess, geisha, courtesan, song, dance, girl
Keywords/Tags: Haiku, Tanka, coronavirus, nature, love, heart, family, mother, son, seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter, sun, moon, rhyme, rhymed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
there are many beautiful Haikus- one of them about the life- The night flies! My life, how much more of it remains? ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) /// really wonderful
I'm glad you think so, and thanks for taking the time to read and comment!