Matsuo Basho
Heat waves shimmering
one or two inches
above the dead grass.
Translated by Robert Hass
Stillness—
the cicada's cry
drills into the rocks.
Bush warbler:
shits on the rice cakes
on the porch rail.
First day of spring—
I keep thinking about
the end of autumn.
Don't imitate me;
it's as boring
as the two halves of a melon.
The dragonfly
can't quite land
on that blade of grass.
Winter solitude—
in a world of one color
the sound of wind.
Kori nigaku enso ga nodo o uruoseri
Bitter–tasting ice —
Just enough to wet the throat
Of a sewer rat.
Translation by. Prof.Nobuyuki Yuasa
A snowy morning—
by myself,
chewing on dried salmon.
Awake at night—
the sound of the water jar
cracking in the cold.
Autumn moonlight—
a worm digs silently
into the chestnut.
A field of cotton—
as if the moon
had flowered.