Washing the ***--
ripples on the water; far off, wild ducks.
The old man
cutting barley-- bent like a sickle.
The behavior of the pigeon
is beyond reproach, but the mountain cuckoo?
White blossoms of the pear
and a woman in moonlight reading a letter.
Lighting one candle
with another candle-- spring evening.
Blown from the west,
fallen leaves gather in the east.
Before the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate a moment.
Calligraphy of geese
against the sky-- the moon seals it.
Early summer rain--
houses facing the river, two of them
fish the cormorants haven't caught swimming in the shallows.
Ploughing the land--
not even a bird singing in the mountain's shadow.
Below are eleven Buson haiku
beginning with the phrase 'The short night--' The short night-- on the hairy caterpillar beads of dew. The short night-- patrolmen washing in the river. The short night-- bubbles of crab froth among the river reeds. The short night-- a broom thrown away on the beach. The short night-- the Oi River has sunk two feet. The short night-- on the outskirts of the village a small shop opening. The short night-- broken, in the shallows, a crescent moon. The short night-- the peony has opened. The short night-- waves beating in, an abandoned fire. The short night-- near the pillow a screen turning silver. The short night-- shallow footprints on the beach at Yui. User Submitted "The short night--" Haiku Submit your own haiku beginning with the line "The short night--" and we'll post the best ones below! Just dash off an e-mail to: email@example.com The short night- a watery moon stands alone over the hill Maggie The short night-- just as I'm falling asleep my wife's waking up Larry Bole
water laps the heron's legs.
Listening to the moon,
gazing at the croaking of frogs in a field of ripe rice.
My arm for a pillow,
I really like myself under the hazy moon.
The spring sea rising
and falling, rising and falling all day.
His Holiness the Abbot
is ******* in the withered fields.
the sound of the bell as it leaves the bell.
The willow leaves fallen,
the spring gone dry, rocks here and there.
called at his house, he was digging potatoes.
The winter river;
down it come floating flowers offered to Buddha.
a fish leaps-- dark sound.
He's on the porch,
to escape the wife and kids-- how hot it is!
Blow of an ax,
pine scent, the winter woods.
Not quite dark yet
and the stars shining above the withered fields.
Straw sandal half sunk
in an old pond in the sleety snow.
and walking home under the bare trees.
The end of spring--
the poet is brooding about editors.
They end their flight
one by one--- crows at dusk.
A bat flits
in moonlight above the plum blossoms.
its tiny mouth open.
— The End —