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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Related quotes
The man pulling radishes
The man pulling radishes
pointed my way
with a radish.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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First winter rain
First winter rain--
even the monkey
seems to want a raincoat.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blow of an ax
Blow of an ax,
pine scent,
the winter woods.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter solitude
Winter solitude--
in a world of one color
the sound of wind.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter garden
Winter garden,
the moon thinned to a thread,
insects singing.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A bee
A bee
staggers out
of the peony.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These sea slugs
These sea slugs,
they just don't seem
Japanese.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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That wren
That wren--
looking here, looking there.
You lose something?
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How much
How much
are you enjying yourself,
tiger moth?
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hey, sparrow!
Hey, sparrow!
out of the way,
Horse is coming.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They end their flight
They end their flight
one by one---
crows at dusk.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The toad! It looks like
The toad! It looks like
it could belch
a cloud.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Napped half the day
Napped half the day;
no one
punished me!
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seen
Seen
through a telescope:
ten cents worth of fog.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Visiting the graves
Visiting the graves,
the old dog
leads the way.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The old man
The old man
cutting barley--
bent like a sickle.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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