Hokku Poems in Four Seasons
Spring
The year's first poem done,
with smug self confidence
a haikai poet.
Longer has become the daytime;
a pheasant is fluttering
down onto the bridge.
Yearning for the Bygones
Lengthening days,
accumulating, and recalling
the days of distant past.
Slowly passing days,
with an echo heard here in a
corner of Kyoto.
The white elbow
of a priest, dozing,
in the dusk of spring.
Into a nobleman,
a fox has changed himself
early evening of spring.
The light on a candle stand
is transferred to another candle
spring twilight.
A short nap,
then awakening
this spring day has darkened.
Who is it for,
this pillow on the floor,
in the twilight of spring?
The big gateway's heavy doors,
standing in the dusk of spring.
Hazy moonlight --
someone is standing
among the pear trees.
Blossoms on the pear tree,
lighten by the moonlight, and there
a woman is reading a letter.
Springtime rain -- almost dark,
and yet today still lingers.
Springtime rain --
a little shell on a small beach,
enough to moisten it.
Springtime rain is falling,
as a child's rag ball is soaking
wet on the house roof.
@Summer
Within the quietness
of a lull in visitors' absence,
appears the peony flower!
Peony having scattered, two
or three petals lie on one another.
The rain of May --
facing toward the big river, houses,
just two of them.
At a Place Called Kaya in Tanba
A summer river being crossed,
how pleasing,
with sandals in my hands!
The mountain stonecutter's chisel;
being cooled in the clear water.
Grasses wet in the rain,
just after the festival cart passed by.
To my eyes how delightful
the fan of my beloved is,
in complete white.
A flying cuckoo,
over the Heian capital,
goes diagonally across the city.
Evening breeze --
water is slapping against
the legs of a blue heron.
An old well --
jumping at a mosquito,
the fish's sound is dark.
Young bamboo trees --
at Hashimoto, the courtesan,
is she still there or not?
After having been fallen,
its image still stands --
the peony flower.
Stepping on the Eastern Slope
Wild roses in bloom --
so like a pathway in,
or toward, my home village.
With sorrow while coming upon the hill
--flowering wild roses.
Summer night ending so soon,
with on the river shallows still remains
the moon in a sliver.
@Autumn
It penetrates into me;
stepping on the comb of my gone wife,
in the bedroom.
More than last year,
I now feel solitude;
this autumn twilight.
This being alone may even be a kind of happy
-- in the autumn dusk.
Moon in the sky's top,
clearly passes through this
poor town street.
This feeling of sadness --
a fishing string being blown by the autumn wind.
@Winter
Let myself go to bed;
New Year's Day is only a matter
for tomorrow.
Camphor tree roots are quietly getting wet,
in the winter rainy air.
A handsaw is sounding,
as if from a poor one,
at midnight in this winter.
Old man's love affair;
in trying to forget it,
a winter rainfall.
In an old pond,
a straw sandal is sinking
-- it is sleeting.
poem by Yosa Buson
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Related quotes
Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Winter Gone
Winter is closed for another year
Spring has sprung upon us
Was the winter kind to you
I miss winter now its gone laying by the fire
The charcoal wood the flickering of the flames
Now the warmer days are coming
New life is born in spring
New dreams are dreamed
New beginings sad endings
The days will be longer now the cold has left the ground
For three months now we will have spring shower and sunshine
I miss you winter and all your beauty
But you will be back this i am certain
After the spring comes the summer
The scorching heat the rolls of thunder
I love the summer storms the lightning the rain
But i miss you winter and all your beauty
So goodbye my beauty for another year
I will miss you until autumn appears
The Autumn Sing
Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…
Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….
Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?
No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…
Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….
Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….
No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?
Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…
All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...
poem by Eva Clara Harahap
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Seasons of Promise
Winter is a time of warmth when I am close to you
A time of sharing stories and of praising what is true
The cold wind can be daunting when one is all alone
But Winter is a time of warmth when I am close to you
Spring is filled with wonderment when I am close to you
A time of bursting energy and life so bold and new
The rain can be quite chilling when one is all alone
But Spring is filled with wonderment when I am close to you
Summer's light is restful when I am close to you
As nature paints a picture with pleasing greens and blue
The heat can be exhausting when one is all alone
But Summer's light is restful when I am close to you
Autumn days are crisp and clear when I am close to you
The reds and golds come once again, yet always seem so new
Letting go brings sadness when one is all alone
But Autumn days are crisp and clear when I am close to you
I will be with you in Winter when snow is thick and cold
I will be with you in Springtime when new life is taking hold
I will be with you in Summer when sun and growth abound
I will be with you when Autumn's old life decorates the ground
poem by Mark Bratlie
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Love Has Its Seasons
A cool chill sweeps through the air
winter is approaching
soon the grass will have a blanket of white
nights will get longer
then soon it will be over for another year.
Spring will be with us
new growth will spring up from the ground
the days will get warmer
when summer once again appears
spreading its colours everywhere.
Then it is back into autumn once more
and the chilly air that it brings.
Love has its seasons also to share
sometimes it can be frosty
and winter chills fill the air
it can be cold
like the white blanket of snow.
Love can be like spring
imparting new life as it begins to grow.
The glow that if offers
is like the warming summer sun
that blossoms into beauty
before the ravages of autumn come
and the years trickle away.
poem by David Harris
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I want to feel the touch of spring
The mountain waits for the snow thru the hot summer,
hurt and burnt by the sun, yet believes the touch of snow
It snows and covers the mountain like a blanket of love
I want to be the mountain to feel the touch of snow.
The sand of a dried river waits for the rain to shower,
dried and chared by heat, yet believes the touch of rain.
It rains and fills the river, to bring the life again
I want to be the dried river to feel the touch of rain.
The flower waits for the spring thru the harsh winter
Frozen and frosted by cold, yet belives the touch of spring
It warms up and the spring arrives, to flower and spread happiness around
I want to be the flower to feel the touch of spring.
This is the law of nature we have to wait thru summer and winter
hurt, burnt, bleeded, and freezed, yet should believe the touch of spring
God will show Love for those who can enjoy his summer and winter
I want to believe in Love and feel the touch of spring.
poem by Arayath Jathin
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Autumn Is Brown!
The colour of Autumn is brown
Like the leaves of Spring are crown!
The colour of Winter is white
Like the Summer heat at its height!
Falling dry leaves are symbol of Autumn
After flowers of Spring with bees hum!
Autumn is the symbol of wisdom ever
After rich growth of fruits in Spring sure!
Rain in Autumn is joyful as in heaven
Just as for the birds trees are haven!
Autumn ever denotes mental maturity
Just as fully grown flowers of beauty!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Self, No Self
self, no self...
does the leaf know the bark?
the bark know the limb?
the limb know the tree?
are they seperate, or one?
do the roots need a name?
the sun and rain ask for thanks?
where does one begin,
and the other end?
is the womb not a grave?
does the soul leave the body?
does the fire ever go out?
or do the embers wait,
warm and steady?
winter to spring, spring to summer,
summer to autumn, autumn to winter.
the tides go out,
and then return...
who stands on the shore,
lamp in hand?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Missing Spring
I know that the spring will be here soon
and the flowers will start to bloom.
What I do not know is when it comes
will it take me out of this gloom?
I live with the days that still are cold
and rub my hands together.
I'm tired of waiting for warm spring days
and worrying about the weather.
But what if spring does come this year
and I don't see your face?
Then springtime might as well stay away
for it can never replace
the absence of you and how I feel
and all the flowers will only steal
the warmth of my springtime day.
So the winter might as well stay.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Nature's Season's
Season's come and season's go,
There are four in each year,
Of our time keeping.
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
In other parts of the world,
Their season's are called something else,
Each Season is,
Of different type,
Yet,
Two and Two,
To begin and become,
Spring shows the begining,
Of growth and new season,
So for plants,
Vegetation,
Spring Chickens,
Spring Lambs,
The Calflings,
The Fouls,
All come in the Spring,
And flourish in the Summer,
Summer shows bloom,
From the plants to the Fouls,
And all are seen in full bloom,
Even the birds and the bees,
Sing the songs,
Of spring and summer,
With the Sun's rays,
That shows nature,
In full bloom,
By the time,
All is in full bloom,
And what shows and blooms,
Blossoms all summer,
And just when we are relaxed,
And see no clouds in the sky,
The seson changes,
Beginning with,
The fall,
Autumn's,
Season,
Commences to begin,
Where,
All in bloom,
Falls away and decays,
While the rest,
Fly away,
And,
Migrate,
Or,
Hibernate,
And just when,
We have seen it all disappear,
The frost and snow,
Covers all over,
And chills the air,
Where the chilling effect,
Kills off all decay,
And the blue ice time period,
Takes over for a time,
Chilling,
Freeezing,
Keeping everything beneath the earth,
As winter sets itself right in,
And far beneath the froasted earth,
Is all in nature,
Rekindling itself,
To regrowth itself,
And then spring growth,
Again,
Next season,
That starts the circle of life,
2 x 2 = 4,
The four seasons,
Of,
Our circle of life,
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
The four seasons,
Of ours,
That is 2 x 2,
Spring and Summer,
Then,
Autumn and Winter,
That makes it known,
As 4 seasons,
To us all.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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The Days of Spring Are Near
The days of spring are near
With the flowing water around
In every heart of youth to steer
That still with the winter's bound
So lovely as each loneliness
And black as rocks in the hills
These condense come with caress
As water splashes and spills
The youth of new springtime's here
Is in every life and brawl
Where the falls shall touch and bear
In its freshness of its early call
And bring mystics wind to blow
While the leaves are becoming green
Away is then all winter's snow
With the life's sullenness between
The days of spring thoughts steer
Into the young days fairly bright
And become here free everywhere
With returning of our summer light
To lift the hearts to higher grounds
And there bring us peace of mind
Fill up the air with springtime sounds
Leaving the dusky diffuses behind
(*never since the middle summer's spring, met we— Shakespeare [I could also use 'freedom' instead of 'spring'])
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Spring—Time, O The Spring--Time
The Spring-time, O the Spring-time!
Who does not know it well?
When the little birds begin to build,
And the buds begin to swell.
When the sun with the clouds plays hide-and-seek,
And the lambs are bucking and bleating,
And the colour mounts to the maiden's cheek,
And the cuckoo scatters greeting;
In the Spring-time, joyous Spring-time!
The Summer, O the Summer!
Who does not know it well?
When the ringdoves coo the long day through,
And the bee refills his cell.
When the swish of the mower is heard at morn,
And we all in the woods go roaming,
And waiting is over, and love is born,
And shy lips meet in the gloaming;
In the Summer, ripening Summer!
The Autumn, O the Autumn!
Who does not know it well?
When the leaf turns brown, and the mast drops down,
And the chestnut splits its shell.
When we muse o'er the days that have gone before,
And the days that will follow after,
When the grain lies deep on the winnowing-floor,
And the plump gourd hangs from the rafter;
In the Autumn, thoughtful Autumn!
The Winter, O the Winter!
Who does not know it well?
When, day after day, the fields stretch gray,
And the peewit wails on the fell.
When we close up the crannies and shut out the cold,
And the wind sounds hoarse and hollow,
And our dead loves sleep in the churchyard mould,
And we feel that we soon shall follow;
In the Winter, mournful Winter!
poem by Alfred Austin
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Ode to the Plum Blossom
Wind and rain escorted Spring's departure,
Flying snow welcomes Spring's return.
On the ice-clad rock rising high and sheer
A flower blooms sweet and fair.
Sweet and fair, she craves not Spring for herself alone,
To be the harbinger of Spring she is content.
When the mountain flowers are in full bloom
She will smile mingling in their midst.
Outside the post-house, beside the broken bridge, Alone, deserted, a flower blooms.
Saddened by her solitude in the falling dusk,
She is now assailed by wind and rain.
Let other flowers be envious!
She craves not Spring for herself alone.
Her petals may be ground in the mud,
But her fragrance will endure.
poem by Mao Zedong
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A Light in My Winter
A light in my winter
For spring dreams to come
Shady darkish tinter
Where my summer is from
A light in white frost
For the blossoming dreams
Those with autumn were lost
In oblivion river streams
Each morning come glowing
With sunshine and day
Through the darkness going
To lead forthcoming way
When rose shall reddish
So lovesome in my bed
To bring in spring wish
Through their colors red
A light in my heart
To fulfill my dark eyes
For blossoms shall start
When there are blue skies
And again summer spring
With each beauty of worth
And birds in trees to sing
Every song of new earth
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Wild Daisies
They are Nature's natural survivors though they seem so dainty and small
And they bloom in all Seasons and weather In Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
With yellow hearts and snow white petals the wildflowers everybody does know
Even on the coldest days of Winter they bloom in the shade by hedgerow
Wild daisies distinct from all others the flowers everyone recognize
They close their petals to the night air and open their hearts to the sunrise
Even in the coldest days of Winter the wildflowers one often does see
So dainty looking yet so hardy they always do look disease free
When I was young in depths of Winter they bloomed in the fields far away
The very same species of wild daisies I see in the town park today
They must have been around forever the hardiest of little wildflowers
They even bloom in the coldest of weather in the sleety and wintery showers
They are Nature's natural survivors the poets their praises do sing
They bloom in all Seasons and weather Summer, Autumn and Winter and Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Daughter Of The Year
Nature, when she made thee, dear,
Begged the treasures of the year.
For thy cheeks, all pink and white,
Spring gave apple blossoms light;
Summer, for thy matchless eyes,
Gave the azure of her skies;
Autumn spun her gold and red
In a mass of silken thread—
Gold and red and sunlight rare
For the wonder of thy hair!
Surly Winter would impart
But his coldness, for thy heart.
Dearest, let the love I bring
Turn thy Winter into Spring.
What are Summer, Spring and Fall,
If thy Winter chills them all?
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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If Only
If I might only love my God and die!
But now He bids me love Him and live on,
Now when the bloom of all my life is gone,
The pleasant half of life has quite gone by.
My tree of hope is lopped that spread so high,
And I forget how summer glowed and shone,
While autumn grips me with its fingers wan
And frets me with its fitful windy sigh.
When autumn passes then must winter numb,
And winter may not pass a weary while,
But when it passes spring shall flower again;
And in that spring who weepeth now shall smile,
Yea, they shall wax who now are on the wane,
Yea, they shall sing for love when Christ shall come.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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A Rainy Day In Early June
The gray sky clouded over the rain is drizzling down
And the golf course is deserted by the river near the town
An early June day in early Winter in the Southern Hemisphere
The sun in the rain clouds hidden it is that time of year
From once you hear him singing his voice with you remain
The magpie he is piping in defiance of the rain
The gray and brown red wattlebird with a hoarseness in his cry
Is calling on a flowering gum that drips of rain nearby
To the vast expanse of dark water that crawls slowly to the sea
And in the calm dampness of the drizzling rain come the song of the pee wee
On this rainy day in early Winter it seems a long way from the Spring
When most of Nature's wildborn birds will build their nests and chirp and sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Few Can Resist The Autumn
Few can resist the Autumn.
And...
This season with changes upon them.
Few can resist,
The picturesqueness...
Of the Autumn.
With the color of the leaves turning bright,
To their delight.
Red and yellow with orange in sight.
From Sunrise until twilight.
Few can resist the Autumn,
When...
Autumn falls.
And...
Few can resist the Autumn,
When...
Autumn calls.
And the East Coast comes to host,
Them all...
Winter, Spring, Summer and again the Fall.
Few can resist the Autumn.
Hoping that Summer stalls.
Few can resist the Autumn.
Few can resist the Autumn.
Hoping that Summer stalls.
Few can resist the Autumn.
And the East Coast comes to host,
Them all...
Winter, Spring, Summer and again the Fall.
Few can resist,
The picturesqueness...
None at all.
Few can resist the Autumn.
Hoping that Summer stalls.
Few can resist the Autumn.
None at all.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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August The Thirtieth
The sky overcast the rain comes down in drizzle August the thirtieth the date of today
This time tomorrow yes this time tomorrow Spring will be just a few hours away
Some birds are nest building others on their eggs sitting male magpie is piping on the stringybark tree
At this time of year he attacks without warning even humans who venture near his territory.
The clock on the Winter is ticking and ticking time on anyone or anything does not wait
Fragile pink blossoms on the fruit trees in the garden such things of beauty that Nature create
Spring brings her youth to this Southern Country spreading her greenery everywhere she goes
Wildflowers by the creek are coming to bloom now pink on the buds amongst the thorns of the rose
August the thirtieth the Winter is dying Spring is a beautiful time of the year
White flowers in clusters amongst the pittosporums the flute of the butcherbird pleasant to hear
Everyday nearer to bloom and to sunshine the year one might say fast aproaching it's prime
Winter is dying the year's coldest Season Spring brings her green with her fresh and warm clime.
August the thirtieth the second last day of the Winter rain fall in drizzle from an overcast sky
Pink flowers are fading upon the camellias blooms of the Winter in early Spring die
The Goddess of Spring she is quickly approaching over the cliffs of the southern bay
On this time tomorrow from this Southern Country she will be only a few hours away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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