Twilight whippoorwill…Whistle on, sweet deepenerOf dark loneliness

This autumn-why am I growing old?bird disappearing among clouds.

Awakened at midnightby the sound of the water jarcracking from the ice

The River Mogami has drownedFar and deepBeneath its surging wavesThe flaming sun of summer

Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise; seek what they sought.

On a bare branch a crow is perched – autumn evening

Summer grasses,All that remainsOf soldiers’ dreams

Kareeda niKarasu no tomarikeriAki no kuretrans:On a bare branchA crow is perched -Autumn evening

Winter solitude-in a world of one colourthe sound of the wind.

April’s air stirs in Willow-leaves…a butterflyFloats and balances

Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.

Ah, it is spring,Great spring it is now,Great, great spring – Ah, Great –

When composing a verse let there not be a hair’s breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree...

Searching for the scent of the early plum,I found it by the eavesOf a proud storehouse.

When a country is defeated, there remain only mountains and rivers, and on a ruined castle in spring only grasses thrive. I sat down on my hat and wept bitterly till I almost forgot time.A...

A bush-warbler,Coming to the verandah-edge,Left its droppingsOn the rice-cakes.

The journey itself is my home.

Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.

Here is a greedy man who keeps to himselfThe beautiful pears ripe in his garden.

Had I crossed the passSupported by a stick,I would have spared myselfThe fall from the horse.

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...

Why so scrawny, cat?Starving for fat fish or mice…Or backyard love?

If I had the knackI’d sing likeCherry flakes falling