Kobayashi Issa
In the thicket's shade
a woman by herself
singing the rice-planting song.
That pretty girl—
munching and rustling
the wrapped-up rice cake.
Pissing in the snow
outside my door—
it makes a very straight hole.
What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.
The crow
walks along there
as if it were tilling the field.
Translated by Robert Hass
That wren—
looking here, looking there.
You lose something?
The world of dew is, yes,
a world of dew,
but even so
The man pulling radishes
pointed my way
with a radish.
Not knowing
it's a tub they're in
the fish cooling at the gate.
These sea slugs -
they just don't seem
Japanese.
Under the image of Buddha
all these spring flowers
seem a little tiresome.
Visiting the graves,
the old dog
leads the way.
