squalls shake the Basho
tree - all
night my basin echoes rain

---

Probably his most famous Haiku is:

the old pond;
the frog.
Plop!

...or...

at the ancient pond
a frog plunges into
the sound of water

 

---

petal by petal
yellow mountain roses fall
sound of rapids

I like to wash,
the dust of this world
In the droplets of dew.

in my new clothing
i feel so different, i must
look like someone else

culture's beginnings:
rice-planting songs from the heart
of the country

summer in the world;
floating on the waves
of the lake.

in your summer-room...
garden and mountain going too
as we slowly walk

a thicket of summer grass
is all that remains
of the dreams of ancient warriors

.

a lightning gleam:
into darkness travels
a night heron's scream.

the farmer's roadside
hedge provided lunch for
my tired horse

all day in grey rain
hollyhocks follow the sun's
invisible road

along the mountain road
somehow it tugs at my heart—
a wild violet

looking carefully,
a shepherds purse is blooming
under the fence

petal by petal
yellow mountain roses fall—
sound of rapids

long conversations
beside blooming irises -
joys of life on the road

the bee emerging
from deep within the peony
departs reluctantly

for those who proclaim
they've grown weary of children,
there are no flowers

flower
under harvest sun - stranger
to bird, butterfly.

deep into autumn
and this caterpillar
still not a butterfly

with every gust of wind,
the butterfly changes its place
on the willow.

butterflies flit
in a field of sunlight
that is all

 

 

---

our banana man
sitting quietly in the past
still singing
—penrose—