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Matsuo Basho - Ancient Haiku WrittenBasho
Work rating: Medium

	the whole family
	all with white hair and canes
	visiting graves
	 
	souls` festival
	today also there is smoke
	from the crematory
	 
	lotus pond
	as they are unplucked
	Souls` Festival
	 
	Buddha`s Death Day
	from wrinkled praying hands
	the rosaries` sound
	 
	Mii Temple
	knocking on the gate for a wish
	today`s moon
	 
	not to think of yourself
	as someone who did not count --
	Festival of the Souls
	 
	the moon so pure
	a wandering monk carries it
	across the sand
	 
	all night
	autumn winds being heard
	behind the mountains
	(from Oka no Hosomichi)
	 
	blue seas
	breaking waves smell of rice wine
	tonight`s moon
	 
	so clear the sound
	echoes to the Big Dipper
	the fulling block
	 
	hair shaved in a moon-shape
	with their hands on their knees
	in the early hours of night
	 
	the setting moon
	the thing that remains
	four corners of his desk
	 
	sleeping in the temple
	the serious-looking face
	is moon-viewing
	 
	the full moon
	seven story-songs of a woman
	turning towards the sea
	 
	viewing the moon
	no one at the party
	has such a beautiful face
	 
	the farmer`s child
	rests from husking rice
	then sees the moon
	 
	occasional clouds
	one gets a rest
	from moon-viewing
	 
	famous moon!
	circling the pond all night
	even to the end
	 
	buying a measure box
	now I feel differently
	about moon-viewing
	 
	harvest moon
	northland weather
	uncertain skies
	 
	 
	taken in my hand
	it will vanish in hot tears
	autumn frost
	 
	full autumn moon
	to my gate comes rising
	crested tide
	 
	thin from the Kiso trip
	and still not yet recovered
	the late harvest moon
	 
	bright red
	the pitiless sun
	autumn winds
	 
	autumn wind
	broken with sadness
	his mulberry stick
	
	autumn winds
	in the sliding door`s opening
	a sharp voice
	 
	autumn wind:
	as thickets in fields are
	Fuwa`s barriers
	 
	Fuwa`s barrier = one of the three barriers or checking
	stations. It went out of use in 789 AD.
	 
	people no longer live
	at the Fuwa Barrier
	in a house with wooden eaves
	 
	weathered bones
	just thinking of the wind
	it pierces my body
	shaking the grave
	
	my weeping voice
	autumn wind
	for one touched by monkey cries
	 
	
	how is it when a child`s abandoned
	in autumn winds
	speaking out
	
	my lips are cold
	in autumn wind
	autumn wind
	
	in Ise`s shrine cemetery
	even more lonely
	the moon still is
	
	though it seems far from home
	Suma in summer
	walking on and on
	
	even through I fall down sick
	in fields of clover
	from this very day
	
	erase the inscription with dew
	on the bamboo hat
	 
	where`s the moon?
	as the temple bell is --
	sunk in the sea
	
	autumn colors
	without a pot
	of red-brown soup
	 
	turn this way!
	I too feel lonely
	late in autumn
	 
	I go
	and you remain
	two autumns
	 
	in the world outside
	is it harvesting time?
	the grass of my hut
	 
	borrowing sleep
	from the scarecrow`s sleeves
	midnight frost
	 
	along this road
	going with no one
	autumn evening
	 
	autumn deepens
	the man next door
	how is he doing?
	 
	saying farewell to people
	farewell being said to me brings
	autumn in Kiso
	 
	"I`m tired of kids."
	for the person who says this
	there are no flowers
	 
	I didn`t die!
	the end of of a journey
	is autumn nightfall
	 
	autumn nears
	my heart is drawn
	to a four-mat room
	 
	autumn night
	striking and making it crumble
	our small talk
	 
	blowing stones
	flying from the volcano Asama
	autumn gale
	 
	Stone Mountain
	whiter than the stones
	autumn wind
	 
	rainy day
	the world`s autumn closes
	Boundary Town
	 
	bagworm`s place
	it seems to be inside
	the cherry blossoms
	 
	bagworms
	to hear their songs
	come to my hut
	without turning
	
	into a butterfly, autumn deepens
	for the worm
	soon to die
	
	yet no sign of it
	in the cidada`s chirp
	stillness
	
	piercing the rocks
	cicada`s shrill
	temple bell
	
	also sounds like it is
	cicada`s voice
	cricket
	
	forgetting sounds with its cry
	by the fireplace
	the cruelty
	
	of being under a helmet
	a cricket
	in the cow shed
	
	mosquito`s voice darkens
	lingering heat
	on a bare branch
	
	a crow has settled
	autumn dusk
	very exciting
	
	yet after awhile so sad
	cormorant fishing
	a sick wild duck
	
	falling down with the dark cold
	to sleep overnight
	a clear moon
	
	because of his fear of foxes
	I go with my lover boy
	cloud-parting friend!
	
	temporarily this wild goose
	must go away
	though a skylark sings
	
	beating inside
	the pheasant`s sad cry
	higher than a skylark
	
	resting in the sky
	on a mountain pass
	spiders have a cry?
	
	well, what is chirping
	autumn`s wind?
	secretly at night
	
	a worm under the moon
	bores into a chestnut
	banana plant in autumn storm
	
	rain drips into tub
	hearing the night
	departing autumn
	
	with hands spread open
	chestnut burs
	Kiso`s chestnuts
	
	for a person of the floating world
	a souvenir
	though autumn winds blow
	it is still green
	
	bur of the chestnut
	chrysanthemum`s scent
	in the garden a worn-out sandal
	just the sole
	 
	at Nara
	the fragrance of chrysanthemums
	ancient Buddhas
	 
	drinking morning tea
	the monk is peaceful
	the chrysanthemum blooms
	 
	while growing thin
	without a reason
	the chrysanthemum bud
	 
	white chrysanthemum
	catching in one`s eye
	nary a speck of dust
	 
	chrysanthemums
	flowers blooming in the stones
	of the stonecutter
	 
	your hermitage
	the moon and chrysanthemums
	plus an acre of rice fields
	 
	flower of the harvest moon?
	it only looks that way
	a cotton field
	 
	autumn coolness
	hand and hand paring away
	eggplants – cucumbers
	 
	a strange flower
	for birds and butterflies
	the autumn sky
	 
	don`t imitate me
	we are not two halves
	of a muskmelon
	 
	ear of the pine tree
	mushroom on a strange tree
	with a leaf stuck to it
	 
	also green
	it should remain a thing
	the pepper pod
	 
	the village so old
	there`s not a single house
	without a persimmon tree
	 
	autumn begins
	sea and sprouting rice fields
	one green
	 
	failing health
	chewing dried seaweed
	my teeth grate on sand
	 
	grabbing at straws
	the strength to bear
	our parting
	 
	on this mountain
	tell me of its sorrow
	wild-yam digger
	 
	butt of the tree
	see in the cut end
	today`s moon
	 
	after the flowers
	all there is left for my haiku
	wisteria beans
	 
	the crane’s legs
	have gotten shorter
	in the spring rain
	 
	as for the hibiscus
	on the roadside—
	my horse ate it
	 
	It would melt
	in my hand—
	the autumn frost
	 
	A caterpillar,
	this deep in fall—
	still not a butterfly
	 
	from all these trees,
	in the salads, the soup, everywhere,
	cherry blossoms fall
	 
	the dragonfly
	can’t quite land
	on that blade of grass
	
	a crow
	has settled on a bare branch—
	autumn evening
	
	an old pond!
	a frog jumps in-
	the sound of water
	
	the first soft snow!
	enough to bend the leaves
	of the jonquil low
	
	in the cicada`s cry
	no sign can foretell
	how soon it must die
	
	no one travels
	along this way but I,
	this autumn evening
	
	in all the rains of May
	there is one thing not hidden -
	the bridge at Seta Bay
	
	the years first day
	thoughts and loneliness;
	the autumn dusk is here
	
	clouds appear
	and bring to men a chance to rest
	from looking at the moon
	
	harvest moon:
	around the pond I wander
	and the night is gone
	
	Poverty’s child -
	he starts to grind the rice,
	and gazes at the moon
	
	no blossoms and no moon,
	and he is drinking sake
	all alone!
	
	won`t you come and see
	loneliness? Just one leaf
	from the kiri tree
	
	temple bells die out.
	the fragrant blossoms remain.
	a perfect evening!
	 
	fallen sick on a journey,
	in dreams I run wildly
	over a withered moor

	Compiled and re-edited by Jessy Dkalusian
	 
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