Face of the spring moon
Face of the spring moon--
about twelve years old,
I'd say.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
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First day of spring
First day of spring--
I keep thinking about
the end of autumn.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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The end of spring
The end of spring--
the poet is brooding
about editors.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In spring rain
In spring rain
a pretty girl
yawning.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The willow leaves fallen
The willow leaves fallen,
the spring gone dry,
rocks here and there.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Under the image of Buddha
Under the image of Buddha
all these spring flowers
seem a little tiresome.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My arm for a pillow
My arm for a pillow,
I really like myself
under the hazy moon.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Calligraphy of geese
Calligraphy of geese
against the sky--
the moon seals it.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The moon tonight
The moon tonight--
I even miss
her grumbling.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A field of cotton
A field of cotton--
as if the moon
had flowered.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Spring rain
Spring rain
leaking through the roof
dripping from the wasps' nest.
Translated by Robert Hass
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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Harvest moon
Harvest moon--
called at his house,
he was digging potatoes.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Winter garden
Winter garden,
the moon thinned to a thread,
insects singing.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Listening to the moon
Listening to the moon,
gazing at the croaking of frogs
in a field of ripe rice.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Last time, I think
Last time, I think,
I'll brush the flies
from my father's face.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
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Lighting one candle
Lighting one candle
with another candle--
spring evening.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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The spring sea rising
The spring sea rising
and falling, rising
and falling all day.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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That wren
That wren--
looking here, looking there.
You lose something?
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
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A bee
A bee
staggers out
of the peony.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Even with insects
Even with insects--
some can sing,
some can't.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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