Matsuo Bashō Haiku Poems

The old pond:
A frog jumps in,—
The sound of the water.

The octopus’ fleeting dream
in the trap
the summer moon

Another year is gone;
and I still wear
straw hat and straw sandal.

Along this road
Goes no one,
This autumn eve.

Sick on a journey,
my dreams wander
the withered fields

Even in Kyôto—
hearing the cuckoo’s cry—
I long for Kyôto

One field
did they plant.
I, under the willow.

This pervasive silence
Enhanced yet by cicadas simmering
Into the Temple Rocks dissipating

Spring departing—
the birds cry out
and the eyes of the fish
are full of tears

Under the same roof
Prostitutes were sleeping—
The moon and clover

Dividing like clam
and shell, I leave for Futami—
Autumn is passing by

Turbulent the sea—
across to Sado stretches
the Milky Way

Plagued by fleas and lice,
I hear the horses stalling
Right by my pillow

Underneath the trees
soups and salads are buried
in cherry blossoms

The true beginnings
Of poetry—an u
Rice-planting song

The man in the moon
Has become homeless;
Rain clouded night

Though I would move the grave,
my teary cry
was lost in the autumn wind.

I am one
Who eats his breakfast,
Gazing at morning glories.

Deep autumn—
my neighbor,
how does he live, I wonder?

Not this human sadness,
cuckoo,
but your solitary cry.

Sad nodes
we’re all the bamboo’s children
in the end

Sweet-smelling rice fields!
To our right as we push through,
The Ariso Sea.

The whitebait
opens its eye
in the net of the law

Should I take it in my hand,
it would disappear with my hot tears,
like the frost of autumn.