quietness

How solitary it is!
Hanging on a nail —
a cricket.

Matsuo Bashō

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eternal tranquility

How tranquil it is!
Penetrating into the rocks
the sound of cicadas.

Matsuo Bashō

echo

Amid cloudy mists,
in a second its view has changed
one hundred times.

Matsuo Bashō

holy mountain

The misty rain —
the day unable to see Fuji
leaves great charm.

Matsuo Bashō

shade

Let plantain leaves
hang over my pillars —
the moon above my hut.

Matsuo Bashō

beauty of snow

Men of the city!
I’ll sell you my bamboo-hat,
A snow umbrella.

Matsuo Bashō

free spirit

The snowy morning —
being alone, I am happy
eating a dried salmon.

MatsuoBashō