Zen Death Haiku translations

Zen Death Haiku & Related Translations of Oriental Poems In what may be called "Zen death haiku" and other forms of jisei (death poems) such as waka/tanka, life on earth is often compared to dew, to a wind-blown petal, to a tree shedding its leaves, to an empty shell, to melting snow or ice, etc. Brittle cicada shell, little did I know that you were my life! —Shuho (?-1767), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Our world of dew is a world of dew indeed; and yet, and yet ... ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops: flashes of light briefly illuminating the void. —Ouchi Yoshitaka, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Like dew glistening on a lotus leaf, so too I soon must vanish. —Shinsui (1720-1769), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Let this body be dew in a field of wildflowers. —Tembo (1740-1823), loose translation by Michael R. Burch My aging body: a drop of dew bulging at the leaf-cliff. —Kiba (-1868), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Like a lotus leaf’s evaporating dew, I vanish. —Senryu (-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch This world? Moonlit dew flicked from a crane’s bill. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Seventy-one? How long can a dewdrop last? —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Dewdrops beading grass-blades die before dawn; may an untimely wind not hasten their departure! —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Outside my window the plums, blossoming, within their curled buds, contain the spring; the moon is reflected in the cup-like whorls of the lovely flowers I gather and twirl. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Unaware it protects the hilltop paddies, the scarecrow seems useless to itself. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The cluttered bucket's bottom broke; now neither water nor the moon remains. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I won't stop at the valley brook for fear my shadow may be swept into the world. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Although I may see it again someday, how can I sleep with the autumn moon intruding? —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Like a frail blade of grass, I pass over Mt. Kinobe, my feelings drifting with the clouds. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How meaningless birth-death with its ceaseless ebbing and rising! I struggle to find my path as if walking in a dream. And yet there are things I cannot forget: the lush grass of Fukakusa shimmers after an evening rain. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Living so long without attachments, having given up paper and pen, I see flowers and hear birds while feeling very little; dwelling on this mountain, I’m embarrassed by my meager response. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Peach blossoms begin to fall apart in a spring wind: doubts do not grow branches, leaves and flowers. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Ebb tide. Not even the wind claims an abandoned boat. The moon is a bright herald of midnight. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A solitary crow clings to a leafless branch: nightfall —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Unaware it protects the hilltop paddies, the scarecrow seems useless to itself. —Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Since time dawned only the dead have experienced peace; life is snow burning in the sun. —Nandai (1786-1817), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Like blocks in the icehouse, unlikely to last the year out... —Sentoku (1661-1726), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Bury me beneath a wine barrel in a bibber’s cellar: with a little luck the keg will leak. —Moriya Senan (?-1838), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Having been summoned, I say farewell to my house beneath the moon. —Takuchi (1767-1846), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Learn to accept the inevitable: the fall willow knows when to abandon its leaves. —Tanehiko (1782-1842), loose translation by Michael R. Burch All evening the softest sound― the cadence of the white camellia petals falling ―Ranko Takakuwa (1726-1798), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Stillness: the sound of petals drifting down softly together ... ―Miura Chora (1729-1780), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch White plum blossoms― though the hour grows late, a glimpse of dawn ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The poem above is believed to be Buson's jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn. Lately the nights dawn plum-blossom white. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is a second interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem). In the deepening night I saw by the light of the white plum blossoms ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is a third interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem). Returning as it came, this naked worm. —Shidoken (?-1765), loose translation by Michael R. Burch There is no death, as there is no life. Are not the skies cloudless And the rivers clear? —Taiheiki Toshimoto (-1332), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch All five aspects of my fleeting human form And the four elements of existence add up to nothing: I bare my neck to the unsheathed sword And its blow is but a breath of wind ... —Suketomo (1290-1332), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Had I not known I was already dead I might have mourned my own passing. —Ota Dokan (1432-1486), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch I wish only to die swiftly, with my eyes fixed on Mount Fuji. —Rangai (1770-1845), loose translation by Michael R. Burch A strident cricket accompanies me through autumn mountains. —Shiko (1788-1845), loose translation by Michael R. Burch The cherry orchard’s owner becomes compost for his trees. —Utsu (1813-1863), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Autumn ends, the frogs find their place in the earth. —Shogetsu (1829-1899), loose translation by Michael R. Burch The night is clear; the moon shines quietly; the wind strums the trees like lyres... but when I’m gone, who the hell will hear? Farewell! —Higan Choro aka Zoso Royo (1194-1277), loose translation by Michael R. Burch I entered the world empty-handed and now leave it barefoot. My coming & going? Two uncomplicated events that became entangled. —Kozan Ichikyo (1283-1360), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Brittle autumn leaves crumble to dust in the freezing wind. —Takao (?-1660), loose translation by Michael R. Burch This frigid season nothing but the shadow of my corpse survives. —Tadatomo (1624-1676), loose translation by Michael R. Burch My life was mere lunacy until the moon shone tonight. Tokugen (1558-1647), loose translation by Michael R. Burch “Isn’t it time,” the young bride asks, “to light the lantern?” Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation by Michael R. Burch With the departing year I have hidden my graying hair from my parents. Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation by Michael R. Burch I wish to die under the spring cherry blossoms and April’s full moon. Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Once again the melon-cool moon rises above the rice fields. —Tanko (1665-1735), loose translation by Michael R. Burch At long last I depart: above me are rainless skies and a pristine moon as pure as my heart. —Senseki (1712-1742), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Cuckoo, lift me up to where clouds drift... Uko (1686-1743), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Sixty-six, setting sail through tranquil waters, a breeze-blown lotus. Usei (1698-1764), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Is it me the raven screeches for from the spirit world this frigid morning? —Shukabo (1717-1775), loose translation by Michael R. Burch To prepare for my voyage beyond, let me don a gown of flowers. —Setsudo (1715-1776), loose translation by Michael R. Burch From depths unfathomably cold: the oceans roar! —Kasenjo (d. 1776), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Today Mount Hiei’s sky with a quick change of clouds also removes its robes. Shogo (1731-1798), loose translation by Michael R. Burch I cup curious ears among the hydrangeas hoping to hear the spring cuckoo. —Senchojo (?-1802), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Life, is it not like a charcoal sketch, an obscure shadow? —Toyokuni (?-1825), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Bitter winter winds... but later, river willow, remember to open your buds! —Senryu (1717-1790), loose translation by Michael R. Burch A fall willow tree: unlikely to be missed as much as the cherry blossoms. —Senryu II (?-1818), loose translation by Michael R. Burch My path to Paradise is bright with flowers. —Sokin (?-1818), loose translation by Michael R. Burch A willow branch unable to reach the water at the bottom of the vase. —Shigenobu (?-1832), loose translation by Michael R. Burch A night storm sighs: "The fate of the flower is to fall" ... rebuking all who hesitate ―Yukio Mishima, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch; this is said to have been his death poem before committing ritual suicide. But one poet, at least, cast doubt on the death poem enterprise: Death poems? Damned delusions― Death is death! ―Toko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Other haiku translations … Masaoka Shiki The night flies! My life, how much more of it remains? ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The autumn wind eludes me; for me there are no gods, no Buddhas ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch After killing a spider, how lonely I felt in the frigid night. ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Such a small child banished to become a priest: frigid Siberia! ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I'm trying to sleep! Please swat the flies lightly ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A summer river: disdaining the bridge, my horse gallops through water. ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch After the fireworks, the spectators departed: how vast and dark the sky! ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I got drunk then wept in my sleep dreaming of wild cherry blossoms. ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch We cannot see the moon and yet the waves still rise ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The first morning of autumn: the mirror I investigate reflects my father’s face ―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I thought I felt a dewdrop plop on me as I lay in bed! ― Masaoka Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As thunder recedes a lone tree stands illuminated in sunlight: applauded by cicadas ― Masaoka Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Yosa Buson haiku translations On the temple’s great bronze gong a butterfly snoozes. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Hard to describe: this light sensation of being pinched by a butterfly! ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Not to worry spiders, I clean house ... sparingly. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Among the fallen leaves, an elderly frog. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In an ancient well fish leap for mosquitoes, a dark sound. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Flowers with thorns remind me of my hometown ... ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Reaching the white chrysanthemum the scissors hesitate ... ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A kite floats at the same place in the sky where yesterday it floated ... ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Picking autumn plums my wrinkled hands once again grow fragrant ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A silk robe, casually discarded, exudes fragrance into the darkening evening ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Whose delicate clothes still decorate the clothesline? Late autumn wind. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is an example of a translation in which I interpreted the poem before translating it. In the original poem the clothes were thin (suggesting suggestive garments). In Japanese poetry an autumn wind can represent loneliness. So I interpreted the poem to be about an aging woman who still wears enticing clothes but is increasingly lonely. Since in the West we don't normally drape clothes on screens, I moved the clothes to a clothesline, which works well with the wind. For me it's a sad poem about something that happens all too often to people as they age. An evening breeze: water lapping the heron’s legs. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch gills puffing, a hooked fish: the patient ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The stirred morning air ruffles the hair of a caterpillar. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Intruder! This white plum tree was once outside our fence! ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Tender grass forgetful of its roots the willow ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I believe the poem above can be taken as commentary on ungrateful children. It reminds me of Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays."―MRB Since I'm left here alone, I'll make friends with the moon. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The hood-wearer in his self-created darkness misses the harvest moon ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch White blossoms of the pear tree― a young woman reading his moonlit letter ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The pear tree flowers whitely: a young woman reading his letter by moonlight ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch On adjacent branches the plum tree blossoms bloom petal by petal―love! ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A misty spring moon ... I entice a woman to pay it our respects ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Courtesans purchasing kimonos: plum trees blossoming ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The spring sea rocks all day long: rising and falling, ebbing and flowing ... ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As the whale dives its tail gets taller! ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch While tilling the field the motionless cloud vanished. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Even lonelier than last year: this autumn evening. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My thoughts return to my Mother and Father: late autumn ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Late autumn: my thoughts return to my Mother and Father ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This roaring winter wind: the cataract grates on its rocks. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch While snow lingers in creases and recesses: flowers of the plum ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Plowing, not a single bird sings in the mountain's shadow ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In the lingering heat of an abandoned cowbarn only the sound of the mosquitoes is dark. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The red plum's fallen petals seem to ignite horse shit. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Dawn! The brilliant sun illuminates sardine heads. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The abandoned willow shines between bright rains ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Dew-damp grass: the setting sun’s tears ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The dew-damp grass weeps silently in the setting sun ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch White plum blossoms― though the hour grows late, a glimpse of dawn ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The poem above is believed to be Buson's jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn. Lately the nights dawn plum-blossom white. ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is a second interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem). In the deepening night I saw by the light of the white plum blossoms ―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is a third interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem). Our life here on earth: to what shall we compare it? Perhaps to a rowboat departing at daybreak, leaving no trace of us in its wake? —Takaha Shugyo or Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Matsuo Basho The legs of the cranes have been shortened by the summer rains. ―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A bee emerging from deep within the peony’s hairy recesses flies off heavily, sated ―Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A crow has settled on a naked branch― autumn nightfall ―Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A solitary crow clings to a leafless branch: autumn twilight ―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A solitary crow clings to a leafless branch: phantom autumn ―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A raven settles on a leafless branch: autumn nightfall ―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A crow roosts on a leafless branch: autumn nightmare ―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Winter solitude: a world awash in white, the sound of the wind ―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Sick of its autumn migration my spirit drifts over wilted fields ... ―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), said to be his death poem, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Sick of this autumn migration in dreams I drift over flowerless fields ... ―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), said to be his death poem, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Except for a woodpecker tapping at a post, the house is silent. ―Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch That dying cricket, how he goes on about his life! ―Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Like a glorious shrine― on these green, budding leaves, the sun’s intense radiance. ―Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Kobayashi Issa Right at my feet! When did you arrive here, snail? ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I toss in my sleep, so watch out, cricket! ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In a better world I'd leave you my rice bowl, little fly! ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch All's well with the world: another fly's sharing our rice! ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Cries of the wild geese― spreading rumors about me? ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wake up, old tomcat, then with elaborate yawns and stretchings prepare to pursue love ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch An enormous frog! We stare at each other, both petrified. ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Skinny frog, hang on ... Issa to the rescue! ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch While a cicada sings softly a single leaf falls ... ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The cry of a pheasant, as if it just noticed the mountain. ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As I stumble home at dusk, heavy with her eggs a spider blocks me. ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch All the while I'm praying to Buddha I'm continually killing mosquitoes. ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This windy nest? Open your hungry mouth in vain, Issa, orphaned sparrow! ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The ghostly cow comes mooing mooing mooing out of the morning mist ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch If anyone comes, child, don't open the gate or the melons will flee! ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch It's not at all anxious to bloom, the plum tree at my gate. ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Our world of dew is a world of dew indeed; and yet, and yet ... ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Full moon― my ramshackle hut is an open book. ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Oh, brilliant moon can it be true that even you must rush off, late for some date? ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Oh, brilliant moon can it be true that even you must rush off, tardy? ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The snow melts and the village is flooded with children! ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Don't weep, we are all insects! Lovers, even the stars themselves, must eventually part. ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In our world we walk suspended over hell admiring flowers. ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Standing beneath cherry blossoms who can be strangers? ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Petals I amass with such tenderness prick me to the quick. ― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Standing unsteadily, I am the scarecrow’s skinny surrogate ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Autumn wind ... She always wanted to pluck the reddest roses ―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Issa wrote the haiku above after the death of his daughter Sato with the note: “Sato, girl, 35th day, at the grave.” Other Poets A pity to pluck, A pity to pass ... Ah, violet! ―Naojo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Silence: a single chestnut leaf sinks through clear water ... ―Shohaku, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch New Haiku Translations, Added 10/6/2020 Air ballet: twin butterflies, twice white, meet, match & mate —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Denied transformation into a butterfly, autumn worsens for the worm —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Dusk-gliding swallow, please spare my small friends flitting among the flowers! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Up and at ’em! The sky goes bright! Let’s hit the road again, Companion Butterfly! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Higher than a skylark, resting on the breast of heaven: mountain pass. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Farewell, my cloud-parting friend! Wild goose migrating. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A crow settles on a leafless branch: autumn nightfall. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch An exciting struggle with such a sad ending: cormorant fishing. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Secretly, by the light of the moon, a worm bores into a chestnut. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This strange flower investigated by butterflies and birds: the autumn sky —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Where’s the moon tonight? Like the temple bell: lost at sea. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Spring departs; birds wail; the pale eyes of fish moisten. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon still appears, though far from home: summer vagrant. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Cooling the pitiless sun’s bright red flames: autumn wind. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Saying farewell to others while being told farewell: departing autumn. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Traveling this road alone: autumn evening. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Thin from its journey and not yet recovered: late harvest moon. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Occasional clouds bless tired eyes with rest from moon-viewing. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The farmboy rests from husking rice to reach for the moon. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon aside, no one here has such a lovely face. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon having set, all that remains are the four corners of his desk. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon so bright a wandering monk carries it lightly on his shoulder. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The Festival of Souls is obscured by smoke from the crematory. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The Festival of Souls! Smoke from the crematory? —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Family reunion: those with white hair and canes visiting graves. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch One who is no more left embroidered clothes for a summer airing. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch What am I doing, writing haiku on the threshold of death? Hush, a bird’s song! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fallen ill on a final tour, in dreams I go roving earth’s flowerless moor. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Stricken ill on a senseless tour, still in dreams I go roving earth’s withered moor. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Stricken ill on a journey, in dreams I go wandering withered moors. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Today, catching sight of the mallards crying over Lake Iware: Must I too vanish into the clouds? —Prince Otsu (663-686), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch This world— to what may we compare it? To autumn fields lying darkening at dusk illuminated by lightning flashes. —Minamoto no Shitago (911-983), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch This world—to what may we liken it? To autumn fields lit dimly at dusk, illuminated by lightning flashes. —Minamoto no Shitago (911-983), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Like a half-exposed rotten log my life, which never flowered, ends barren. —Minamoto Yorimasa (1104-1180), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Overtaken by darkness, I will lodge under a tree’s branches; cherry blossoms will cushion me tonight. —Taira no Tadanori (1144–1184), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Overtaken by darkness, I will lodge under a cherry tree’s branches; flowers alone will bower me tonight. —Taira no Tadanori (1144–1184), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Let me die in spring beneath the cherry blossoms while the moon is full. —Saigyo (1118-1190), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops in which flashes of light briefly illuminate the void. —Ôuchi Yoshitaka (1507-1551), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Even a life of long prosperity is like a single cup of sake; my life of forty-nine years flashed by like a dream. Nor do I know what life is, nor death. All the years combined were but a fleeting dream. Now I step beyond both Heaven and Hell To stand alone in the moonlit dawn, Free from the mists of attachment. —Uesugi Kenshin (1530-1578), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch My life appeared like dew and disappears like dew. All Naniwa was a series of dreams. —Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536-1598), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Felt deeply in my heart: How beautiful the snow, Clouds gathering in the west. —Issho (-1668), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Brittle cicada shell, little did I know that you were my life! —Shoshun (-1672), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Inhale, exhale. Forward, reverse. Live, die. Let arrows fly, meet midway and sever the void in aimless flight: Thus I return to the Source. —Gesshu Soko (-1696), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem)by Michael R. Burch My body? Pointless as the tree’s last persimmon. —Seisa (-1722), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Farewell! I pass away as all things do: dew drying on grass. —Banzan (-1730), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch A tempestuous sea ... Flung from the deck — this block of ice. —Choha (-1740), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Empty cicada shell: we return as we came, naked. —Fukaku (-1753), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Since I was born, I must die, and so … —Kisei (1688-1764), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Let us arise and go, following the path of the clear dew. —Fojo (-1764), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Depths of the cold, unfathomable ocean’s roar. —Kasenjo (-1776), loose translation/interpretation of her jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Things never stand still, not even for a second: consider the trees’ colors. —Seiju (-1776), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Lately the nights dawn plum-blossom white. —Yosa Buson (-1783), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Bitter winter winds! But later, river willow, reopen your buds ... —Senryu (-1790), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Who cares where aimless clouds are drifting? —Bufu (-1792), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch What does it matter how long I live, when a tortoise lives many times as long? —Issa (-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Like a lotus leaf’s evaporating dew, I vanish. —Senryu (-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Man’s end: this mound of albescent bones, this brief flowering sure to fade ... —Hamei (-1837), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch When I kick the bucket, bury me beneath a tavern’s cellar wine barrel; with a little luck the cask will leak. —Moriya Sen’an (-1838), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Frost on a balmy day: all I leave is the water that washed my brush. —Tanaka Shutei (1810-1858, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Though moss may overgrow my useless corpse, the seeds of patriotism shall never decay. —Nomura Boto (1806-1867), loose translation/interpretation of her jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch My aging body: a drop of dew bulging at the leaf-cliff. —Kiba (-1868), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Forbearing the night with its growing brilliance: the summer moon. —Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839-1892), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Blow if you must, autumn wind, but the flowers have already faded. —Gansan (-1895), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Time to go ... They say this journey is a long trek: this final change of robes. —Roshu (-1899), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch The moon departs; frost paralyzes the morning glories. — Kato (-1908), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Stumble, tumble, fall, slide down the slippery snow slope. — Getsurei (-1919), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch As the monks sip their morning tea, chrysanthemums quietly blossom. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The fragrance of plum blossoms on a foggy path: the sun rising. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The sea darkens ... yet still faintly white the wild duck protests. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Pear tree blossoms whitened by moonlight: a young woman reading a letter. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Outlined in the moonlight ... who is that standing among the pear trees? —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Your coolness: the sound of the bell departing the bell. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As the moon flies west the flowers' shadows creep eastward. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch By such pale moonlight even the wisteria's fragrance seems distant. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Leaves like crows’ shadows flirt with a lonely moon. Kaga no Chiyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Let me die covered with flowers and never again wake to this earthly dream! —Ochi Etsujin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch To reveal how your heart flowers, sway like the summer grove. —Tagami Kikusha-Ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In the thicket's shade a solitary woman sings the rice-planting song. Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Unaware of these degenerate times, cherry blossoms abound! Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch These silent summer nights even the stars seem to whisper. Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The enormous firefly weaves its way, this way and that, as it passes by. Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Composed like the Thinker, he sits contemplating the mountains: the sagacious frog! Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A fallen blossom returning to its bough? No, a butterfly! Arakida Moritake, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Illuminated by the harvest moon smoke is caught creeping across the water ... Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fanning its tail flamboyantly with every excuse of a breeze, the peacock! Masaoki Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Waves row through the mists of the endless sea. Masaoki Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I hurl a firefly into the darkness and sense the enormity of night. —Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As girls gather rice sprouts reflections of the rain ripple on the backs of their hats. —Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch *** Haiku translations added 6-3-2023 *** Spring stirs the clouds in the sky's teabowl —Kikusha-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Tonight I saw how the peony crumples in the fire's embers —Katoh Shuhson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch It fills me with anger, this moon; it fills me and makes me whole —Takeshita Shizunojo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch War stood at the end of the hall in the long shadows —Watanabe Hakusen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Because he is slow to wrath, I tackle him, then wring his neck in the long grass —Shimazu Ryoh, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Pale mountain sky: cherry petals play as they tumble earthward —Kusama Tokihiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The frozen moon, the frozen lake: two oval mirrors reflecting each other. —Hashimoto Takako, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The bitter winter wind ends here with the frozen sea —Ikenishi Gonsui, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Bitter winter wind, why bellow so when there's no leaves to blow? —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The lamp extinguished, once-distant stars enter my window. —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Winter waves roil their own shadows —Tominaga Fûsei, loose translation by Michael R. Burch No sky, no land: just snow eternally falling... —Kajiwara Hashin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Along with spring leaves my child's teeth take root, blossom —Nakamura Kusatao, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Stillness: a single chestnut leaf glides on brilliant water —Ryuin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The snake slipped away but his eyes, holding mine, still stare in the grass —Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Girls gather rice sprouts: reflections of the water flicker on the backs of their hats —Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Murmurs follow the hay cart this blossoming summer day —Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The wet nurse paused to consider a bucket of sea urchins then walked away —Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch May I be with my mother wearing her summer kimono by the morning window —Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The hands of a woman exist to remove the entrails of the spring cuttlefish —Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The moon hovering above the snow-capped mountains rained down hailstones —Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Oh, dreamlike winter butterfly: a puff of white snow cresting mountains —Kakio Tomizawa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Spring snow cascades over fences in white waves —Suju Takano, loose translation by Michael R. Burch First one hidden face is revealed, then the other; thus spinning it falls, the autumn leaf. —Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation by Michael R. Burch I persuaded a child to purchase rural wine; once I'm nicely tipsy, I'll slap down some calligraphy. —Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation by Michael R. Burch The thief missed it: the moon bejeweling my window. —Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation by Michael R. Burch This world: a distant mountain echo dying unheard... —Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation by Michael R. Burch The peonies I planted around my hut I must now surrender to the wind's will —Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation by Michael R. Burch Wild peonies blossoming in their prime, glorious in full bloom: Too precious to pick, To precious to leave unplucked —Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation by Michael R. Burch The Orchid Deep in the valley, a secluded beauty! Serene, peerless, impossibly lovely. In the bamboo thicket's shadowy tower she seems to sigh softly for a lover. —Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation by Michael R. Burch Observe: see how the wild violets bloom within the forbidden fences! —Shida Yaba (1663-1740) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A white swan parts the cherry-petalled pond with her motionless breast. —Roka (1671-1703) , translation by Michael R. Burch When no wind ruffles the Kiri tree leaves fall of their own free will. —Nozawa Boncho (1640-1714) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Loneliness: striking the gong again and again, the lookout. —Hara Sekitei (1886-1951) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Sleeping alone; a mosquito interrupts my dreams with its querulous voice... —Chigetsu (1632-1706) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch The rain is helpless to reach the ground— a winter gale —Mukai Kyorai (c.1651-1704) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch A cat in heat can't catch a mouse? — pathetic! —Kinpu (? -1726?) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch It's getting to the point of sucking on fish bones— old age. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I murder an ant then realize my three children were watching. —Shuson Kato (1905-1933) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My three children watched me murder an ant. —Shuson Kato (1905-1933) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As the moon rises the rooftop tomcat philosophizes. Ikuyo Yoshimura (1944-) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch Changing my lipstick's pastels— spring rain. Ikuyo Yoshimura (1944-) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch Air ballet: twin butterflies, twice white, meet, match & mate —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Denied transformation into a butterfly, autumn worsens for the worm —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Dusk-gliding swallow, please spare my small friends flitting among the flowers! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Up and at 'em! The sky goes bright! Let's hit the road again, Companion Butterfly! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Higher than a skylark, resting on the breast of heaven: this mountain pass. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Farewell, my cloud-parting friend! Wild goose migrating. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A crow settles on a leafless branch: autumn nightfall. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch An exciting struggle with such a sad ending: cormorant fishing. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Secretly, by the light of the moon, a worm bores into a chestnut. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This strange flower investigated by butterflies and birds: the autumn sky —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Where's the moon tonight? Like the temple bell: lost at sea. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Spring departs; birds wail; the pale eyes of fish moisten. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon still appears, though far from home: summer vagrant. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Cooling the pitiless sun's bright red flames: autumn wind. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Saying farewell to others while being told farewell: departing autumn. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Traveling this road alone: autumn evening. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Thin from its journey and not yet recovered: late harvest moon. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Occasional clouds bless tired eyes with rest from moon-viewing. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The farmboy rests from husking rice to reach for the moon. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon aside, no one here has such a lovely face. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon having set, all that remains are the four corners of his desk. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon so bright a wandering monk carries it lightly on his shoulder. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The Festival of Souls is obscured by smoke from the crematory. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The Festival of Souls! Smoke from the crematory? —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Family reunion: those with white hair and canes visiting graves. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch One who is no more left embroidered clothes for a summer airing. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch What am I doing, writing haiku here on the threshold of death? Hush, a bird's song! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fallen ill on a final tour, in dreams I go roving earth's flowerless moor. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Stricken ill on a senseless tour, still in dreams I go roving earth's withered moor. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Stricken ill on a journey, in dreams I go wandering withered moors. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Today, catching sight of the mallards crying over Lake Iware: Must I too vanish into the clouds? —Prince Otsu (663-686) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Momozutau / iware no ike ni / naku kamo wo / kyo nomi mite ya / Kumokakuri nan This world—to what may we compare it? To autumn fields darkening at dusk, dimly lit by lightning flashes. —Minamoto no Shitago (911-983) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch This world— to what may we compare it? To autumn fields darkening at dusk illuminated by lightning flashes. —Minamoto no Shitago (911-983) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch This world—to what may we liken it? To autumn fields lit dimly at dusk, illuminated by lightning flashes. —Minamoto no Shitago (911-983) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Like a half-exposed rotten log my life, which never flowered, ends barren. —Minamoto Yorimasa (1104-1180) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Overtaken by darkness, I will lodge under a tree's branches; cherry blossoms will cushion me tonight. —Taira no Tadanori (1144-1184) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Overtaken by darkness, I will lodge under a cherry tree's branches; flowers alone will bower me tonight. —Taira no Tadanori (1144-1184) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Let me die in spring beneath the cherry blossoms while the moon is full. —Saigyo (1118-1190) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch There is no death, as there is no life. Are not the skies cloudless And the rivers clear? —Taiheiki Toshimoto (-1332) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch All five aspects of my fleeting human form And the four elements of existence add up to nothing: I bare my neck to the unsheathed sword And its blow is but a breath of wind... —Suketomo (1290-1332) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Had I not known I was already dead I might have mourned my own passing. —Ota Dokan (1432-1486) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Ôuchi Yoshitaka, his death poem, written in 1551: 1. Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops: flashes of light briefly illuminating the void. 2. Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops, lit by flashes of light, as we apprehend this life. 3. Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops in which lightning flashes briefly illuminate the void. —Ôuchi Yoshitaka (1507-1551) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Even a life of long prosperity is like a single cup of sake; my life of forty-nine years flashed by like a dream. Nor do I know what life is, nor death. All the years combined were but a fleeting dream. Now I step beyond both Heaven and Hell To stand alone in the moonlit dawn, Free from the mists of attachment. —Uesugi Kenshin (1530-1578) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch My life appeared like dew and disappears like dew. All Naniwa was a series of dreams. —Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536-1598) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Felt deeply in my heart: How beautiful the snow, Clouds gathering in the west. —Issho (-1668) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Brittle cicada shell, little did I know that you were my life! —Shoshun (-1672) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Inhale, exhale. Forward, reverse. Live, die. Let arrows fly, meet midway and sever the void in aimless flight: Thus I return to the Source. —Gesshu Soko (-1696) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch My body? Pointless as the tree's last persimmon. —Seisa (-1722) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Farewell! I pass as all things do: dew drying on grass. —Banzan (-1730) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Seventy-one? How long can a dewdrop last? —Kigen (-1736) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch A tempestuous sea... Flung from the deck — this block of ice. —Choha (-1740) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Empty cicada shell: we return as we came, naked. —Fukaku (-1753) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Since I was born, I must die, and so … —Kisei (1688-1764) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Let us arise and go, following the path of the clear dew. —Fojo (-1764) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Depths of the cold, unfathomable ocean's roar. —Kasenjo (-1776) , loose translation/interpretation of her jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Things never stand still, not even for a second: consider the trees' colors. —Seiju (-1776) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Bitter winter winds! But later, river willow, reopen your buds... —Senryu (-1790) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Who cares where aimless clouds are drifting? —Bufu (-1792) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch What does it matter how long I live, when a tortoise lives many times as long? —Issa (-1827) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Like a lotus leaf's evaporating dew, I too... vanish. —Senryu (-1827) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Man's end: this mound of albescent bones, this brief flowering sure to fade... —Hamei (-1837) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch When I kick the bucket, bury me beneath a tavern's cellar wine barrel; with a little luck the cask will leak. —Moriya Sen'an (-1838) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Ware shinaba / sakaya no kame ni / shita no ikeyo / moshi ya shisuku no / moriyasennen Frost on a balmy day: all I leave is the water that washed my brush. —Tanaka Shutei (1810-1858, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Though moss may overgrow my useless corpse, the seeds of patriotism shall never decay. —Nomura Boto (1806-1867) , loose translation/interpretation of her jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch My aging body: a drop of dew bulging at the leaf-cliff. —Kiba (-1868) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Forbearing the night with its growing brilliance: the summer moon. —Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839-1892) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Blow if you must, autumn wind, but the flowers have already faded. —Gansan (-1895) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Time to go... They say this journey is a long trek: this final change of robes. —Roshu (-1899) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch The moon departs; frost paralyzes the morning glories. — Kato (-1908) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Stumble, tumble, fall, slide down the slippery snow slope. — Getsurei (-1919) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Year after year, the face a monkey faces is a monkey face. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Haiku scholar Kon Eizo explains: "At a New Year's performance, a monkey's mask worn by a monkey changes nothing, so we repeat the same foolishness each year." Because it will not melt we dedicate this ice to the New Year's dawning sun —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Students with your copybooks: from whose satchel shall the New Year spring? —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Basking beneath the New Year's sun: my grubby hut. —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Letting in torrents of New Year's rain: my leaky hut. —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch O, God of the New Year, this year also, please have pity! —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch These useless dreams, alas! Over fields of wilted grass winds whisper as they pass. —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch When a nightingale stops singing, it's just another bird. —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A nightingale, when it ceases singing, is just another ordinary / unexceptional bird. —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The sincerity of snow, the moon and cherry blossoms is the truthfulness of art. —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Above the garden the camellia tree blossoms whitely... —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , explaining the essence of haiku, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Moonlit hailstones: the night hawks return. —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Nowhere to dump the dishwater: cricket cacophony. —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A good father drives away crows from his sparrow-like children. —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A cool breeze: the empty sky fills with the songs of the pines. —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Return my dream, raven! You woke me to a misted-over unreadable moon —Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , said to be his death poem, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Tears are useless: insects, lovers, the stars themselves must part. —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Sparrow-like children, make way, make way! The stallion's coming through! —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch No one travels this path but me, this moonless autumn evening. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Lieutenant-General Tomoyuki Yamashita wrote this poem on December 4,1941, while sailing for Hainan to invade Malaya. Now, as the sun and moon shine as one, the arrow, hurtling from the bow, speeds my spirit toward the enemy, bearing also a hundred million souls —my people of the East— as the sun and moon shine as one. —Tomoyuki Yamashita, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Bonfires for the dead? Soon they'll light pyres for us, instead. —Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Children delight in bonfires for the dead; soon they'll light pyres for us, instead. —Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Cries of the wild geese— spreading rumors about me? Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wake up, old tomcat, then with elaborate yawns and stretchings prepare to pursue love Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This windy nest? Open your hungry mouth in vain, Issa, orphaned sparrow! Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The ghostly cow comes mooing mooing mooing out of the morning mist Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Full moon— my ramshackle hut is an open book. Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The snow melts the rivers rise and the village is flooded with children! Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Don't weep, we are all insects! Lovers, even the stars themselves, must eventually part. Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Peonies blossom; the world is full of fibbers. Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Peonies blossom; the world is full of blooming liars. Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Overdressed for my thatched hut: a peony blossoms. Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Oh, magnificent peony, please don't disdain these poor surroundings! Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Insolent peony! Demanding I measure your span with my fan? Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch 'This big! ' The child's arms measured the peony. Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Issa seemed to have a love-hate relationship with the peony, writing at least 84 haiku about the flower, sometimes praising it and sometimes accusing it of haughtiness and insolence! The rutting cat has grown so scrawny he's nothing but eyes. —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Clinging to each other beneath an umbrella: spring rain. —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Twos become one: butterflies. —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch No rain and yet the flowers glisten? Dew. —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Buzzings encircle a meditating monk: mosquitoes. —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch He's lost so much weight in the summer heat even the mosquitoes won't bite. —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Autumn's here, crickets, whether you chirp or not. —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A windy temple: coins clatter in the collection box. —Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch After death six feet under the frost will be sufficient cover. —Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Midwinter thunder rattles the windowpanes. —Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch PLUM BLOSSOM HAIKU A shy maiden: the loveliness of the lone plum blossoming —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Longing for plum blossoms: bowing before the deutzia, weeping. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Moonlit plum tree, tarry! Spring will return soon. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The plum blossom’s fragrance warms winter’s frigid embrace. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch White plum blossoms: have the cranes gone undercover? —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Suddenly, the scent of plums on a mountain path: sunrise! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Warm sun unfolds the plum blossom’s scent: a mountain path. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The plum in full bloom must not be disturbed by the wind. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The plum's fragrance: the past holds such pathos. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Are you the butterfly and I the dreaming heart of Soshi? —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch kimi ya cho / ware ya shoshi no / yume gokoro The poem above is a reference to a butterfly dream of Chuang Tzu, a Taoist sage and poet who was a major influence on Basho. Soshi is the Japanese rendering of the name Chuang Tzu. I believe what Basho may have meant is something closer to this: Are you the butterfly while I pursue dreams of Soshi? —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Are you the butterfly while in my dreams I flit after Soshi? —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The white poppy accepts the butterfly's broken wing as a keepsake —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch shirageshi ni / hane mogu cho no / katami kana As autumn deepens a butterfly sips chrysanthemum dew —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch aki o hete / cho mo nameru ya / kiku no tsuyu A single leaf of paulownia falling reflects the sun. —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I caught a falling cherry petal; but opening my fist ... nothing —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch They call it a white peony yet it contains hints of red —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Evening shadows grow thick on the floating algae —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The snake slithered away yet his eyes, having met mine, remain —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The bamboo grove is lit by the yellow spring sunlight —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Chikurin ni/ Ki naru haruhi wo/ Aogikeri On a hot summer night dreams and reality merge. —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Mizika-yo ya/ Yume mo utsutsu mo / Onazi koto The summer butterfly has to look sharp to make its getaway. —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Natsu no cho/ Manako surudoku/ Kakeri kishi The autumn sky is severed by the big chinquapin tree. —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Akizora wo/ Futatsu ni tateri/ Shii-taiju “Cawa-cawa!” The winter crow elocutes coarsely. —Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Kawa kawa to/ Ookiku yuruku/ Samu-garasu Keywords/Tags: Haiku, Zen, Japan, Japanese, translation, life, death, aging, time, pain, sorrow, lament ORIGINAL HAIKU BY MICHAEL R. BURCH Incomprehensible by Michael R. Burch for the NRA “Slain” — an impossible word to comprehend. The male lion murders cubs, licks his lips, devours them. As springs’ budding blossoms emerge the raptors glide mercilessly. —Michael R. Burch I wrote the haiku-like poem above on 3-27-2023 after the Nashville Covenant school massacre.—Michael R. Burch You rise with the sun, mysteriously warm, also scattering sunbeams. —Michael R. Burch Her sky-high promises: midday moon —Michael R. Burch The north wind’s refrain, a southbound train ... Invitation? —Michael R. Burch The north wind’s refrain, the receding strain of a southbound train ... Invitation? —Michael R. Burch The moon blushed then fled behind a cloud: her stolen kiss. —Michael R. Burch Elderly sunflowers: bees trimming their beards. —Michael R. Burch Celebrate the New Year? The cat is not impressed, the dogs shiver. ―Michael R. Burch Brittle autumn leaf, no one informed me you were my life! —Michael R. Burch Valentine Haiku #1 by Michael R. Burch for Beth A leaf brushes my cheek: a subtle lover’s gentlest caress. Valentine Haiku #2 by Michael R. Burch for Beth Teach me to love: to fly beyond sterile Mars to percolating Venus. The Ultimate Haiku Against God by Michael R. Burch Because you made a world where nothing matters, our hearts lie in tatters. Early robins get the worms, cats waiting to pounce. —Michael R. Burch Sleepyheads! I recite my haiku to the inattentive lilies. —Michael R. Burch Am I really this old, so many ghosts beckoning? —Michael R. Burch The sky tries to assume your eyes’ azure but can’t quite pull it off. —Michael R. Burch The sky tries to assume your eyes’ arresting blue but can’t quite pull it off. —Michael R. Burch Two bullheaded frogs croaking belligerently: election season. —Michael R. Burch An enterprising cricket serenades the sunrise: soloist. —Michael R. Burch A single cricket serenades the sunrise: solo violinist. —Michael R. Burch New haiku translations added 8-25-2023 Grasses wilt: the braking locomotive grinds to a halt —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Ceaseless chaos— ice floes clash in the Soya straits. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Once they’ve crossed the sea, winter winds can never return. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Banish the snow for the human torpedo now lies exploded. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch (My interpretation is that the haiku above is about WWII kamikaze pilots. Winter is metaphorically the season of death and snow may be seen as a shroud for the dead. So here the poet may be saying, metaphorically, something like “We don’t need shrouds because our pilots are blowing themselves up.” ) The sky hangs low over Karafuto, as white as the spawning herring. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Green bottle flies buzzing carrion: did they just materialize? —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Finally the cicadas stopped shrilling: calm before gale. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As grief becomes unbearable someone snaps a nearby branch. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As grief reaches its breaking point someone snaps a nearby branch. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Trapped in the spider’s web the firefly’s bulb blinks out forever. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Trapped in the spider’s web The firefly’s light Is swiftly consumed. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Seishi Yamaguchi has been said to represent “a pinnacle of haiku in twentieth-century Japan.” Graven images of long-departed gods, dry spiritless leaves: companions of the temple porch —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch See: whose surviving sons visit the ancestral graves white-bearded, with trembling canes? —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch I remove my beautiful kimono: its varied braids surround and entwine my body —Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch This day of chrysanthemums I shake and comb my wet hair, as their petals shed rain —Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch This sheer kimono— how the moon peers through to my naked skin! —Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch These festive flowery robes— though quickly undressed, how their colored cords still continue to cling! —Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Chrysanthemum petals reveal their pale curves shyly to the moon. —Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Loneliness — reading the Bible as the rain deflowers cherry blossoms. —Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch How deep this valley, how elevated the butterfly's flight! —Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch How lowly this valley, how lofty the butterfly's flight! —Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Echoes from the hills— the mountain cuckoo sings as it will, trill upon trill —Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Winter in the air: my neighbor, how does he fare? —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Let’s arrange these lovely flowers in the bowl since there's no rice —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Please arrange these delicate flowers in the bowl since we lack rice —Matsuo Basho, translation by Kim Cherub An ancient pond, the frog leaps: the silver plop and gurgle of water —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch An ancient pond sleeps, quiet and still ... untroubled ... until ... suddenly a frog leaps! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Big old pond, the little frog leaps: Kerplash! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Explosion! The frog returns to its lily pad. —Michael R. Burch The first soft snow: leaves of the awed jonquil bow low —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Come, investigate loneliness: a solitary leaf clings to the Kiri tree —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The first chill rain, so raw! Poor monkey, you too could use a woven cape of straw. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fever-felled mid-path my dreams resurrect, to trek into a hollow land —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This snowy morning: cries of the crow I despise (ah, but so beautiful!) —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The cheerful-chirping cricket contends gray autumn's gay, contemptuous of frost —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Whistle on, twilight whippoorwill, solemn evangelist of loneliness —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The sea darkening, the voices of the wild ducks: my mysterious companions! —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Lightning shatters the darkness— the night heron's shriek —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As the monks sip their morning tea, chrysanthemums quietly blossom. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The fragrance of plum blossoms on a foggy path: the sun rising. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The sea darkens ... yet still faintly white the wild duck protests. —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Let me die covered with flowers and never again wake to this earthly dream! —Ochi Etsujin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch To reveal how your heart flowers, sway like the summer grove. —Tagami Kikusha-Ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In the thicket’s shade a solitary woman sings the rice-planting song. —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Unaware of these degenerate times, cherry blossoms abound! —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch These silent summer nights even the stars seem to whisper. —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The enormous firefly weaves its way, this way and that, as it passes by. —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Composed like the Thinker, he sits contemplating the mountains: the sagacious frog! —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A fallen blossom returning to its bough? No, a butterfly! —Arakida Moritake, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Illuminated by the harvest moon smoke is caught creeping across the water ... —Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fanning its tail flamboyantly with every excuse of a breeze, the peacock! —Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Waves row through the mists of the endless sea. —Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch I hurl a firefly into the darkness and sense the enormity of night. —Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch As girls gather rice sprouts reflections of the rain ripple on the backs of their hats. —Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Will we remain parted forever? Here at your grave: two flowerlike butterflies —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch These wilting August weeds? The only remains of warriors' ambitions ... —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch These brown summer grasses? The only remains of "invincible" warriors ... —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch An empty road lonelier than abandonment: this autumn evening —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Spring has come: the nameless hill lies shrouded in mist —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A solitary crow clings to a leafless branch: autumn twilight —Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch A solitary crow clings to a leafless branch: nightfall —Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Right at my feet! When did you arrive here, snail? —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch While a cicada sings softly a single leaf falls ... —Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Oh, brilliant moon is it true that even you must rush off, tardy? —Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Oh, brilliant moon can it be true that even you must rush off, late for some date? —Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This world of dew is a dewdrop world indeed; and yet, and yet ... —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Standing beneath cherry blossoms who can be strangers? —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch An enormous frog! We stare at each other, both petrified. —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Skinny frog, hang on ... Issa to the rescue! —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I toss in my sleep, so watch out, cricket! —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In a better world I'd leave you my rice bowl, little fly! —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Petals I amass with such tenderness prick me to the quick. —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Standing unsteadily, I am the scarecrow’s skinny surrogate —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Brief autumn breeze ... she always wanted to pluck the reddest roses —Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is a haiku Issa wrote after the death of his daughter Sato with the note: “Sato, girl, 35th day, at the grave.” In our world we walk suspended over hell admiring flowers. —Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The childless woman, how tenderly she caresses homeless dolls ... —Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Clinging to the plum tree: one blossom's worth of warmth —Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch One leaf falls, enlightenment! Another leaf falls, swept away by the wind ... —Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Disdaining grass, the firefly nibbles nettles— this is who I am. —Takarai Kikaku, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A simple man, content to breakfast with the morning glories— this is who I am. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is Basho’s response to the Takarai Kikaku haiku above The morning glories, alas, also turned out not to embrace me —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The morning glories bloom, mending chinks in the old fence —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Morning glories, however poorly painted, still engage us —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My dear Basho, I too have been accused of morning glory gazing! —original haiku by Michael R. Burch Taming the rage of an unrelenting sun— autumn breeze. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The sun sets, relentlessly red, yet autumn’s in the wind. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As autumn deepens, a butterfly sips chrysanthemum dew. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As autumn draws near, so too our hearts in this small tea room. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Nothing happened! Yesterday simply vanished like the blowfish soup. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The surging sea crests around Sado ... and above her? An ocean of stars. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Revered figure! I bow low to the rabbit-eared Iris. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Come, butterfly, it’s late and we’ve a long way to go! —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Nothing in the cry of the cicadas suggests they soon die. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I wish I could wash this perishing earth in its shimmering dew. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Spring! A nameless hill shrouded in mist. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Dabbed with morning dew and splashed with mud, the melon looks wonderfully cool. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Cold white azalea— a lone nun in her thatched straw hut. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Glimpsed on this high mountain trail, delighting my heart— wild violets —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The bee emerging from deep within the peony’s hairy recesses flies off heavily, sated —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A crow has settled on a naked branch— autumn nightfall —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Except for a woodpecker tapping at a post, the house is silent. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch That dying cricket, how he goes on about his life! —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Like a glorious shrine— on these green, budding leaves, the sun’s intense radiance. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A kite floats at the same place in the sky where yesterday it floated ... —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Not to worry spiders, I clean house ... sparingly. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Dawn! The brilliant sun illuminates sardine heads. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Picking autumn plums my wrinkled hands once again grow fragrant —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Thorny roses remind me of my hometown ... —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Nearing the white chrysanthemum the scissors hesitate ... —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch White blossoms of the pear tree: a young woman reading her lover’s moonlit letter —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The pear tree flowers whitely: a young woman reading her lover’s letter by moonlight —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Pear tree blossoms whitened by moonlight: a young woman reading a letter. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Outlined in the moonlight ... who is that standing among the pear trees? —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The pigeon's behavior is beyond reproach, but the mountain cuckoo's? —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Your coolness: the sound of the bell departing the bell. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As the moon flies west the flowers' shadows creep eastward. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch By such pale moonlight even the wisteria's fragrance seems distant. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch On the temple’s great bronze gong a butterfly snoozes. —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Hard to describe: this light sensation of being pinched by a butterfly! —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch gills puffing, a hooked fish: the patient —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In an ancient well fish leap for mosquitoes, a dark sound. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In the lingering heat of an abandoned cowbarn mosquitoes hum darkly. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Among fallen leaves, an elderly frog. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The stirred morning air ruffles the caterpillar’s hair —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Whose delicate clothes still decorate the clothesline? Late autumn wind. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Tender grass forgetful of its roots the willow —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch NOTE: I believe this poem can be taken as commentary on ungrateful children. It reminds me of Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays.—MRB Intruder!— This white plum tree was once outside our fence! —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Since I'm left here alone, I'll make friends with the moon. —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The hood-wearer in his self-created darkness misses the harvest moon —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch An evening breeze: water lapping the heron’s legs. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A misty spring moon ... I entice a woman to pay it our respects —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Courtesans purchasing kimonos: plum trees blossoming —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch On adjacent branches the plum tree blossoms bloom petal by petal: love! —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The red plum's fallen petals seem to ignite horse shit. —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The spring sea rocks all day long: rising and falling, ebbing and flowing ... —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch As the whale dives its tail gets taller! —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch A silk robe, casually discarded, exudes fragrance into the darkening evening —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch While tilling the field the motionless cloud vanished. —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Dew-damp grass: the setting sun’s tears —Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch PN- The dew-damp grass weeps silently in the setting sun —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Lately the nights dawn plum-blossom white. —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch White plum blossoms — though the hour grows late, a glimpse of dawn —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch; this is believed to be Buson's jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn In the deepening night I saw by the light of the white plum blossoms —Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Silently observing the bottomless mountain lake: water lilies —Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Cranes flapping ceaselessly test the sky's upper limits —Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Falling snowflakes' glitter tinsels the sea —Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Blizzards here on earth, blizzards of stars in the sky —Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Completely encircled in emerald: the glittering swamp! —Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The new calendar: as if tomorrow is assured ... —Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The new calendar: as if tomorrow can be predicted —Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Ah butterfly, what dreams do you ply with your beautiful wings? —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Because morning glories held my well-bucket hostage I went begging for water! —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My well-bucket being held hostage by morning glories, I went begging for water. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Since my well-bucket’s being held hostage by morning glories, I go begging for water. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch To listen, fine ... fine also not to echo, nightingale. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch, she wrote this poem in calligraphy on a portrait of Matsuo Basho Upon her engagement to the servant of a samurai: Will it be bitter, the first time I bite an unripe persimmon? —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Written for her only son, who died: My little dragonfly hunter: how far away has he wandered I wonder? —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Her husband died when she was 27 years old: Rising, I see, and reclining I see the web of the mosquito netting ... —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch After she had shaved her head, become a nun and retired from public life: No more fixing my hair, merely warming my hands by the fire ... —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Leaves like crows’ shadows flirt with a lonely moon. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon settled in a flower-strewn stream —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My elderly parents become my children: strident cicadas —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Illuminating my fishing line: the midsummer moon. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Auspicious straw! Even the compost looks glorious! —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How alarming: her scarlet fingernails tending the white chrysanthemums! —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Whatever ... Leave it to the weather: withered pampas grass. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Heat waves shimmering above the wettened rock ... —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The moon: a morning blur amid cherry blossoms —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Loneliness abides within the listener: the cuckoo’s call —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Skylark, what do you make of the trackless sky? —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Returning from moon-viewing: we humans, voiceless. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The harvest moon illuminates these snowdrifts I trample. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How contentedly they snore in the boondocks: full moon —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The butterfly tip-toes at ebb-tide —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Along her path butterflies flit, front and back —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Voiceless as a butterfly: the Buddhist service —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Whirling its wings the butterfly creates its own wind ... —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The waterweed washes away unaware of the butterfly’s weight —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Now and then a dandelion intrudes on a butterfly’s dreams —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Sometimes a butterfly emerges from the mist ... —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A butterfly settles on cherry blossoms: nap time! —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Moonflowers blossom: a woman’s nakedness —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My painted lips purified: crystalline springwater —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A woman’s desire: the wild violets’ entangled roots —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Her day off: the prostitute wakes to a frigid morning. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch With the waning moon silence enters the heart. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch We stoop to pick up ebb-tide pebbles. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Ebb-tide: everything we stoop to collect slips through our fingers ... —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch To entangle or unentangle the willow is the wind’s will. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Inflating the frog’s belly: looming downpour Inflating the frog’s belly: pregnant thunderheads The frog inflates: monsoon soon The frog inflates: prophet of the deluge Thunderclouds inflating: the frog’s belly —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Her death poem: Having seen the moon I can bid Earth farewell ... —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Isn’t it good to wake up alone, unencumbered? —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch She wakes up alone, unencumbered. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Her body-debt paid she wakes alone— a frigid night. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Coolness— strangers meet on a bridge late at night. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch A woman’s passion flowers from the roots— wild violets. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Also a poet arranging words with its airy wings— the butterfly. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch It’s child’s play for the cranes circling the clouds to celebrate the year’s first sunrise Cicadas chirp oblivious to death. —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Spring stirs the clouds in the sky's teabowl —Kikusha-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Tonight I saw how the peony crumples in the fire's embers —Katoh Shuhson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch It fills me with anger, this moon; it fills me and makes me whole —Takeshita Shizunojo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch War stood at the end of the hall in the long shadows —Watanabe Hakusen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Because he is slow to wrath, I tackle him, then wring his neck in the long grass —Shimazu Ryoh, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Pale mountain sky: cherry petals play as they tumble earthward —Kusama Tokihiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The frozen moon, the frozen lake: two oval mirrors reflecting each other. —Hashimoto Takako, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The bitter winter wind ends here with the frozen sea —Ikenishi Gonsui, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Bitter winter wind, why bellow so when there's no leaves to blow? —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The lamp extinguished, once-distant stars enter my window. —Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Winter waves roil their own shadows —Tominaga Fûsei, loose translation by Michael R. Burch No sky, no land: just snow eternally falling ... —Kajiwara Hashin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Along with spring leaves my child's teeth take root, blossom —Nakamura Kusatao, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Stillness: a single chestnut leaf glides on brilliant water —Ryuin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The snake slipped away but his eyes, holding mine, still stare in the grass —Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Girls gather rice sprouts: reflections of the water flicker on the backs of their hats —Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Murmurs follow the hay cart this blossoming summer day —Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The wet nurse paused to consider a bucket of sea urchins then walked away —Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch May I be with my mother wearing her summer kimono by the morning window —Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The hands of a woman exist to remove the entrails of the spring cuttlefish —Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The moon hovering above the snow-capped mountains rained down hailstones —Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Oh, dreamlike winter butterfly: a puff of white snow cresting mountains —Kakio Tomizawa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Spring snow cascades over fences in white waves —Suju Takano, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Keywords/Tags: haiku, Japanese, translation, Oriental, imagery, metaphor, nature, coronavirus, plague, life, death, nature Keywords/Tags: Burch, original haiku, haiku, nature, spring, summer, fall, autumn, winter, Zen, death, Japan, Japanese, translation, life, aging, time, pain, sorrow, lament, mrbhaiku

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