Net of Fireflies. Harold Stewart
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silken petals flare.
—HÔ-Ô
CORRESPONDENCE
Among the peach-tree blossoms—ah, the glow
Of sunrise wakes a cock with scarlet crow!
—KIKAKU
THE MASTER STROKE
A seedling shoulders up some crumbs of ground:
The fields are suddenly green for miles around!
—HÔ-Ô
FIRST PUDDLE
Though spring rain patters on the mud, as yet
The froglets' sallow bellies are not wet.
—BUSON
A SHELTER OF LEAVES
A sparrow, springing on this bamboo-cane,
Chirps at the downward sound of steady rain.
—HÔ-Ô
GARDEN AFTER RAIN
Why, as that single tea-camellia fell,
It spilled bright water from its heavy bell!
—BASHÔ
VIEWPOINT
When I climb the pagoda, five floors high,
There, on that fir-top, sits a butterfly!
—KASO
FROM A HILLSIDE
The rice-fields spread their flooded terracing
Of mirrors: segments in a beetle's wing.
—HÔ-Ô
SPRING SNOWFLAKE
A white-queued egret, balanced on the breeze,
Sails through the dark-green cryptomeria trees.
—RAIZAN
AT NARA
There sat the great bronze Buddha. From his hollow
Nostril suddenly darted out—a swallow!
—ISSA
BOUNDLESS COMPASSION
Oh, weak and skinny frog, though death is near,
Fight on and dont give in: Issa is here!
—ISSA
THE SILENT REBUKE
Angrily I returned; awaiting me
Within my court—the tranquil willow-tree.
—RYÔTA
A FLOWERING BIRD
The pheasant's eyes are gold, hut ringed with red:
Two tea-camellias flowering in his head.
—HÔ-Ô
IN A TEMPLE GARDEN
The old green pond is silent; here the hop
Of a frog plumbs the evening stillness: plop!1
—BASHÔ
THE LIKENESS OF WIND
The flurried willow paints the breeze's rush
Without the need for paper, ink, or brush.
—SARYÛ
THE EXECUTIONERS
A red camellia drops to the garden bed,
Where scurrying rats drag off its severed head.
—SHICHIKU
SENSITIVE
The butterfly, lifted on the spring wind's billow,
Alights elsewhere upon the swaying willow.
—BASHÔ
ONE NOTE OF ZEN
A frog had plucked his slack-stringed samisen:
The pond was quieter at nightfall, then.
—HÔ-Ô
DISCOVERY
Again the cherry-buds are bursting through:
Horses have four legs! Birds have only two!
—ONITSURA
WONDER
I saw afar a vast white cloud—but no!
That was Yoshino's mount of flowering snow.
—TEISHITSU
THE DEVOTEE
My shanks grow thin? As long as they can climb,
Expect me, Yoshino, in blossom time.
—BASHÔ
THE POET
I came to praise the cherry-blossom: "Oh! . . .
Oh! . . That's all, upon Mount Yoshino.
—TEISHITSU
THE DAIMYO
The noble lord gets off his horse. And who
Makes him dismount? The cherry-blossoms do.
—ISSA
THE SAMURAI
No friends today—Oh, let me meet no friends
Until my leave for blossom-viewing ends!
—KYORAI
GOING HOME
White cherry-blossoms in the sunset blaze:
I stand, my breast against my staff, and gaze. . . .
—SÔ-A
SLIGHT INTERRUPTION
Ah, nightingale, with half your song expressed,
I leave for the next world—to hear the rest!
—AN ANONYMOUS PRISONER
CONDEMNED TO DEATH
FROM MY WINDOW AT TWILIGHT
A cloud of flowers. A booming temple-bell.
Ueno's or Asakusa's? Who can tell?
—BASHÔ
ATMOSPHERE
How still it is! The belfry's vibrant boom
Does not so much as stir the cherry-bloom.
—FUHAKU
AT THE FERRY
Through the spring rain a ferryboat is oared,
Paper umbrellas, high and low, aboard.
—SHIKI
THE EIGHT FAMOUS VIEWS OF ÔMI
Mist hid the other seven views. Ah well,
I heard the Mit Temple's evening bell!2
—BASHÔ
ON A JOURNEY
Wearied, and seeking shelter for the night—
Ah, these wistaria flowers refresh the sight!
—BASHÔ
LETTER AND SPIRIT
My ears had found the sermon dull and stale;
But in the woods outside—the nightingale!
—SHIKI
ON THE DEATH OF HIS CHILD
His