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ChrysanthemumSilence – monk Sips his morning tea.

Bashō Matsuo

ChrysanthemumSilence – monk Sips his morning tea.

Bashō Matsuo
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If I had the knackI'd sing likeCherry flakes falling
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Many solemn nights Blond moon, we stand and marvel...Sleeping our noons away
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At one time I was weary of verse writing, and wanted to give it up. At another time I was determined to be a poet until I could establish a proud name over others. The alternatives battled in my mind and made my life restless.
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Here is a greedy man who keeps to himselfThe beautiful pears ripe in his garden.
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Awakened at midnightby the sound of the water jarcracking from the ice
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Why so scrawny, cat?Starving for fat fish or mice...Or backyard love?
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Had I crossed the passSupported by a stick,I would have spared myselfThe fall from the horse.
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