A snail has left its netted trail: the faint
Sutra written in silver by a saint.
—HÔ-Ô
BEING AND BECOMING
The sun set on the swamp with orange glare
A hall of gnats revolving in the air.
—HÔ-Ô
BY THE MERE
An evening breeze across the reedy hanks:
Ripples around the blue-grey heron's shanks.
—BUSON
THE OLD FOLLY
The octopus, while summer moonshine streams
Into the trap, enjoys its fleeting dreams.
—BASHÔ
STILL AND CLEAR
A sea beach silvered by the moon; and then
Nearby, the cries of distant fishermen.
—SHÛRIN
NEHAN
A cuckoo's cry is lost in silence, while
Vanishing toward a solitary isle. . . .7
—BASHÔ
AUTUMN
THE GATELESS GATE
Through morning mists and murmurs from the sea
Emerges—one vermilion torii.
—KIKAKU
UNREGARDED DIADEM
Dew on the brambles delicately worn
At sunrise: one clear drop on every thorn.
—BUSON
AT THE WELL
Around the bucket, morning-glories cling:
I beg for water at another spring.
—CHIYO
WITH EVERY BREEZE
The lespedeza blossoms dip and sway,
Yet never spill the dew drops from their spray.8
—BASHÔ
STRANGERS
How soon the morning-glory's hour must end!
Alas! It, too, can never be my friend. . . .
—BASHÔ
ALIVE
So much vitality in so few inches:
A perch of hopping, chirping, spotted finches!
—HÔ-Ô
NO RESPITE
Feast of the Dead: hut even on this day,
Smoke from the burning-ground is blown away.
—BASHÔ
CLINGING
This world is but a single dewdrop, set
Trembling upon a stem; and yet . . . and yet . . .9
—ISSA
THE MEANING OF LIFE
A yearly sweep for our parental tomb:
The youngest child comes carrying the broom.
—ISSA
THE MEANING OF DEATH
Going to tend our family graves today,
The old dog trots ahead to show the way.
—ISSA
THE DIAMOND SPHERE
Let all my life of dust be cleansed in you,
O one clear evanescent drop of dew!
—BASHÔ
A DYING HOUSE
The household standing by the ancestral graves
Are all white-haired, and lean upon their staves.
—BASHÔ
ON THE NIGHT OF THE DEPARTED
Returning through the cedar-pillared park
Are festive lanterns—fireflies in the dark.10
—HÔ-Ô
GONE OUT
The paper lanterns on the graves are torn
By heavy dew in the chill autumn dawn.
—RANKÔ
"INTO THE SHINING SEA"
The sunlit dews dry up and disappear;
This world defiles: they would not linger here.
—ISSA
WITHOUT WORDS
What message would the wild bush-clover utter,
Gently brushing, brushing against my shutter?
—SESSHI
THE LIGHT OF TRANQUILITY
The frenzied dash and dart of dragonflies
Is stilled: a crescent moon begins to rise.
—KIKAKU
THE FULL MOON
The new moon showed its silver rim of light;
I watched and waited since, and lo: tonight!11
—BASHÔ
