These are modern English translations of Eihei Dogen Kigen, a master of the Japanese waka/tanka poetic form. Eihei Dogen Kigen (1200-1253), also called Dogen Zenji, was born in Kyoto, Japan. He was a Japanese Buddhist monk and a prolific poet, writer and philosopher. He was also the founder of the Soto Zen sect (or Sotoshu) and the Eiheiji monastery in early Kamakura-era Japan. In addition to writing Japanese waka, Dogen Kigen was well-versed in Chinese poetry, which he learned to read at age four.

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

ALTERNATE TRANSLATIONS

Dewdrops beading blades of grass
have so little time to shine before dawn;
let the autumn wind not rush too quickly through the field!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To what shall we compare this world?
To moonlit dew
flicked from a crane’s bill.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Keywords/Tags: Eihei Dogen Kigen, English translation, waka, tanka, haiku, Japan, Japanese, nature, dew, dewdrop, dewdrops, grass, crane, scarecrow, rice paddies, dawn

iHai
ku.    do
     yo
u?     cut
ting a
summerth

understorm—

There was an Old Man of Japan
Whose lim-er-icks never would scan.
     When they said, "What the fu?"
     He replied, "They're haiku!"
That Irish Old Man of Japan.

Writing a haiku's          
          Japaneasy, slurping soup    
     Japaneasier.

Rrrrrrramən
n°○°●•○●•dles
are °•●○dləs
and ○°•●dles
of n●°○•dləs,
●○°•○•●°dles.

!               !               !          !              !                   !                 !
     !                !                !            !               !                     !
             !                !                      85°    !              !
 ­  !                                  all the ra!ndrops!fall except !      !       !
            !                !                 for one!that ra!ns up      !
                       !                  !               !           !              !            !
  !             !                !                 !                         !
                             !                                    !                   !        !
               !                     !            !                       !          
        !               !                                !                               ­  !
   !              !              !                 !                !            !                   !
             !                         !                     !                         !
     !                    !                    !                      ­  !                       !
                 !                      !                         !                  !  
         !                      !                     !                       !             !
!             !          !              !                     !        ¡               !              !
            !                     !                    !                   !                  !
      !           !       !             !                      !                !                 !

Galaxy in hand,
     I zoom in on Mount Fuji
          with Nintendo thumbs.

Square white canvases
          painted brown--brown aroma--
                    yellow pool fish--flush!

These are my modern English translations of haiku about plum blossoms, plums and plum trees. In Japanese poetry the plum ("ume") is associated with the beginning of spring and good fortune; plum trees were often planted facing northeast to ward off bad luck. Plum blossoms are widely loved and appreciated by the Japanese people; they symbolize refinement, purity, nobility and the remembrance of love.

Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
― Yosa Buson, 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

On adjacent branches
the plum tree blossoms bloom
petal by petal―love!

― 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; this is believed to be Buson's death poem and he is said to have died before dawn

Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch

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 fragrance of plum blossoms
on a foggy path:
the sun rising.
—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

It's not at all anxious to bloom,
the plum tree at my gate.
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The red plum's fallen petals
seem to ignite horse ****.
―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

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
The translation above is slated to be published by Emma Burleigh in her book "Earth Color."

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,
remained
—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/ ****-taiju

“Cawa-cawa!”
The winter crow
elocutes coarsely.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Kawa kawa to/ Ookiku yuruku/ Samu-garasu

You rise with the sun,
mysteriously warm,
also scattering sunbeams.
—Michael R. Burch

As springs’ budding blossoms emerge
the raptors glide mercilessly.
—Michael R. Burch

I wrote this haiku-like poem above on 3-27-2023 after the Nashville Covenant school massacre.—Michael R. Burch

Incomprehensible
by Michael R. Burch

“Slain” — an impossible word to comprehend.
The male lion murders cubs,
licks his lips, devours them.

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

Keywords/Tags: haiku, translation, Japanese, Japan, Oriental, plum, plums, plum blossom, plum blossoms, plum trees, spring, good luck, good fortune, love, purity, refinement, nobility