The Narrow Road to the Deep North: Prologue

Behind this door
Now buried in deep grass
A different generation will celebrate
The Festival of Dolls.

poem by Matsuo Basho
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When the winter chrysanthemums go

When the winter chrysanthemums go,
there's nothing to write about
but radishes.

Translated by Robert Hass

poem by Matsuo Basho
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Bitter–tasting ice —

Kori nigaku enso ga nodo o uruoseri

Bitter–tasting ice —
Just enough to wet the throat
Of a sewer rat.

poem by Matsuo Basho
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Staying at an inn

Staying at an inn
where prostitutes are also sleeping--
bush clover and the moon.

Translated by Robert Hass

poem by Matsuo Basho
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A cool fall night

At a hermitage:

A cool fall night--
getting dinner, we peeled
eggplants, cucumbers.

Translated by Robert Hass

poem by Matsuo Basho
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In this world of ours,

Yo no naka wa kutte hako shite nete okite
Sate sono ato wa shinuru bakari zo

In this world of ours,
We eat only to cast out,
Sleep only to wake,
And what comes after all that
Is simply to die at last.

poem by Matsuo Basho
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None is travelling

None is travelling
Here along this way but I,
This autumn evening.

The first day of the year:
thoughts come - and there is loneliness;
the autumn dusk is here.

An old pond
A frog jumps in -
Splash!

Lightening -
Heron's cry
Stabs the darkness

Clouds come from time to time -
and bring to men a chance to rest
from looking at the moon.

[...] Read more

poem by Matsuo Basho
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