Beautiful haiku. Haiku (haiku) verses. Japanese three lines. The inscription on the picture of my own work
Don't imitate me too much!
Look, what's the use of such a resemblance?
Two halves of a melon. For students
I want at least once
Go to the market on holidays
Buy tobacco
"Autumn has already arrived!"
The wind whispered in my ear
Creeping up to my pillow.
One hundred times more noble
Who does not say at the flash of lightning:
"This is our life!"
All the worries, all the sadness
Of my troubled heart
Give it to the flexible willow.
What freshness blows
From this melon in drops of dew,
With sticky wet earth!
In the garden where the irises opened,
Chat with an old friend,
What a reward for a traveler!
Cold mountain spring.
I did not have time to scoop up a handful of water,
How the teeth are already broken
Here's a connoisseur's quirk!
On a flower without fragrance
The moth dropped.
Come on, friends!
Let's go wandering through the first snow,
Until we fall off our feet.
Evening bindweed
I'm captured... Still
I am in oblivion.
Frost hid him
The wind makes his bed...
Abandoned child.
There is such a moon in the sky
Like a tree cut down at the root:
White fresh cut.
The yellow leaf floats.
Which coast, cicada,
Do you suddenly wake up?
How the river overflowed!
The heron wanders on short legs
Knee-deep in water.
Like a banana moaning in the wind,
How drops fall into a tub,
I hear all night long. In a thatched hut
Willow leaned over and sleeps.
And it seems to me, a nightingale on a branch ...
This is her soul.
Top-top is my horse.
I see myself in the picture -
In the expanse of summer meadows.
You hear suddenly "shorch-shorch".
Sadness stirs in my heart...
Bamboo on a frosty night.
Butterflies flying
Wakes up a quiet meadow
In the rays of the sun
How the autumn wind whistles!
Then only understand my poems,
When you spend the night in the field.
And I want to live in autumn
To this butterfly: drinks hastily
Dew from the chrysanthemum.
Flowers withered.
Seeds are falling, falling
Like tears...
gusty sheet
Hid in a bamboo grove
And gradually calmed down.
Take a close look!
Shepherd's purse flowers
You will see under the fence.
Oh, wake up, wake up!
Become my friend
Sleeping moth!
They fly to the ground
Going back to old roots...
Separation of flowers! In memory of a friend
Old pond.
The frog jumped into the water.
A surge in silence.
Autumn Moon Festival.
Around the pond and around again
All night long!
That's all I'm rich in!
Light as my life
Pumpkin gourd. Grain storage jug
First snow in the morning.
He barely covered
Narcissus leaves.
The water is so cold!
Seagull can't sleep
Ride on the wave.
The pitcher burst with a crash:
At night, the water in it froze.
I woke up suddenly.
Moon or morning snow...
Admiring the beautiful, I lived as I wanted.
This is how I end the year.
Clouds of cherry blossoms!
The ringing of the bells floated ... From Ueno
Or Asakusa?
In a flower cup
A bumblebee is napping. Don't touch him
Sparrow friend!
Stork nest in the wind.
And under it - beyond the storm -
Cherries are a calm color.
Long day to fly
Sings - and does not get drunk
Lark in spring.
Over the expanse of fields -
Not tied to the ground
The lark calls.
May rains pour down.
What's this? Has the rim burst on the barrel?
The sound of an obscure night ...
Pure spring!
Up ran down my leg
Little crab.
It's been a clear day.
But where do the drops come from?
A patch of clouds in the sky.
As if taken in hand
Lightning when in the dark
You lit a candle. In praise of the poet Rick
How fast the moon flies!
On fixed branches
Drops of rain hung.
important steps
Heron on fresh stubble.
Autumn in the village.
Dropped for a moment
Threshing rice peasant,
Looks at the moon.
In a glass of wine
Swallows, don't drop
Clay lump.
There used to be a castle here...
Let me be the first to tell about it
A spring flowing in an old well.
How thick the grass is in summer!
And only one-leaf
One single sheet.
Oh no ready
I can't find a comparison for you
Three day month!
hanging motionless
Dark cloud in the sky...
It can be seen that lightning is waiting.
Oh, how many of them are in the fields!
But everyone blooms in their own way -
This is the highest feat of a flower!
Wrapped his life
around the suspension bridge
This wild ivy.
Blanket for one.
And icy black
Winter night... Oh, sadness! Poet Rika mourns his wife
Spring is leaving.
The birds are crying. The eyes of fish
Full of tears.
The distant call of the cuckoo
Sounded right. After all, these days
The poets have moved.
A thin tongue of fire, -
The oil in the lamp has frozen.
Wake up... What sadness! in a foreign land
West East -
Everywhere the same trouble
The wind is still cold. To a friend who went to the West
Even a white flower on the fence
Near the house where the mistress was gone,
Cold covered me. Orphaned friend
Broke off a branch
Wind running through the pines?
How cool is the splash of water!
Here in drunkenness
To fall asleep on these river stones,
Overgrown with cloves...
Get up off the ground again
Fading in the mist, chrysanthemums,
Crushed by heavy rain.
Pray for happy days!
On a winter plum tree
Be like your heart.
Visiting cherry blossoms
I have been neither more nor less -
Twenty happy days.
Under the shade of cherry blossoms
I'm like an old drama hero,
At night lay down to sleep.
Garden and mountain in the distance
Trembling, moving, entering
In a summer open house.
Driver! lead the horse
Over there, across the field!
There is a cuckoo singing.
May rains
The waterfall was buried -
Filled with water.
summer herbs
Where the heroes have disappeared
Like a dream. On the old battlefield
Islands... Islands...
And crushed into hundreds of fragments
Summer day sea.
What a blessing!
Cool green rice field...
The murmur of water...
Silence around.
Penetrate into the heart of the rocks
Voices of cicadas.
Gate of the Tide.
Washes the heron up to the chest
Cool sea.
Drying small perches
On the branches of a willow... What a coolness!
Fishing huts on the shore.
Wooden pestle.
Was he ever a willow
Was it a camellia?
Celebration of the meeting of two stars.
Even the night before is so different
For a normal night! On the eve of Tashibam holiday
Raging sea space!
Far away, to the island of Sado,
The Milky Way creeps.
With me under the same roof
Two girls... Hagi branches in bloom
And a lonely month In hotel
What does ripe rice smell like?
I was walking through the field, and suddenly -
To the right is the Gulf of Ariso.
Tremble, oh hill!
Autumn wind in the field -
My lonely moan. In front of the grave mound of the early deceased poet Isse
Red-red sun
In the desert distance ... But it freezes
Ruthless autumn wind.
Pines... Nice name!
Leaning towards the pines in the wind
Bushes and autumn grasses. A place called Sosenki
Musashi Plain around.
None will touch the cloud
Your travel hat.
Wet, walking in the rain
But this traveler is also worthy of a song,
Not only hagi in bloom.
O merciless rock!
Under this glorious helmet
Now the cricket is ringing.
Whiter than white rocks
On the slopes of the stone mountain
This autumn whirlwind!
Farewell verses
On the fan I wanted to write -
It broke in his hands. Breaking up with a friend
Where are you, moon, now?
Like a sunken bell
Hidden at the bottom of the sea. In Tsuruga Bay, where the bell once sank
Butterfly never
He won't be... Shaking in vain
Worm in the autumn wind.
A house in seclusion.
Moon ... Chrysanthemums ... In addition to them
A piece of a small field.
Cold rain without end.
This is how a chilled monkey looks,
As if asking for a straw cloak.
Winter night in the garden.
With a thin thread - and a month in the sky,
And cicadas barely audible ringing.
Nuns story
About the former service at the court ...
Deep snow all around. In a mountain village
Children, who is faster?
We'll catch up with the balls
Ice cereal. I play with children in the mountains
Tell me what for
Oh raven, to the bustling city
Are you flying from here?
How tender are the young leaves
Even here in the weeds
At the forgotten house.
Camellia petals...
Maybe the nightingale dropped
Flower hat?
Ivy leaves...
For some reason their smoky purple
He talks about the past.
Mossy gravestone.
Under it - is it in reality or in a dream? -
A voice whispers prayers.
Everything is spinning dragonfly ...
Can't get caught
For stalks of flexible grass.
Do not think with contempt:
"What small seeds!"
It's red pepper.
First left the grass...
Then he left the trees...
Lark flight.
The bell is silent in the distance,
But the scent of evening flowers
Its echo floats.
The cobwebs tremble a little.
fine strands of saiko grass
They tremble in the twilight.
dropping petals,
Suddenly spilled a handful of water
Camellia flower.
The stream is slightly visible.
Float through the thicket of bamboo
Camellia petals.
May rain is endless.
Mallows are reaching somewhere
Looking for the path of the sun.
Weak orange flavor.
Where?.. When?.. In what fields, cuckoo,
Did I hear your flying cry?
Falling down with a leaf...
No, look! Halfway
The firefly fluttered.
And who could say
Why do they have such a short life!
The silent sound of cicadas.
Fisherman's hut.
Messed up in a pile of shrimp
Lone cricket.
White hair fell.
Under my headboard
The cricket does not stop.
Ill go down goose
On the field on a cold night.
Sleep lonely on the way.
Even a wild boar
Will swirl, take away with it
This winter whirlwind of the field!
It's the end of autumn
But believe in the future
Green tangerine.
Portable hearth.
So, the heart of wanderings, and for you
There is no rest anywhere. At the road hotel
The cold came along the way.
At the bird's scarecrow, or something,
In debt to ask for sleeves?
Seaweed stalks.
The sand creaked on my teeth...
And I remembered that I was getting old.
Manzai came late
To a mountain village.
The plums are already blooming.
Why all of a sudden such laziness?
They just woke me up today...
Noisy spring rain.
sad me
Drink more sadness
Cuckoos distant call!
I clapped my hands.
And where the echo sounded
The summer moon is blazing.
A friend sent me a gift
Risu, and I invited him
Visit the moon itself. On a full moon night
deep antiquity
A breeze ... Garden near the temple
Covered with dead leaves.
So easy-easy
Came out - and in the cloud
The moon thought.
Quail scream.
It must be evening.
The eye of the hawk faded.
Together with the owner of the house
I listen silently to the evening bells.
Willow leaves are falling.
White fungus in the forest.
Some unfamiliar leaf
Sticking to his hat.
What sadness!
Suspended in a small cage
Captive cricket.
Night silence.
Just behind the picture on the wall
The cricket is ringing.
Glittering dewdrops.
But they have a taste of sadness,
Don't forget!
That's right, this cicada
Is it all out of foam? -
One shell remained.
Fallen leaves.
The whole world is one color.
Only the wind hums.
Rocks among cryptomeria!
How to sharpen their teeth
Winter cold wind!
Planted trees in the garden.
Quiet, quiet, to encourage them,
Whispering autumn rain.
So that a cold whirlwind
To drink the aroma, they opened again
Late autumn flowers.
Everything was covered in snow.
Lonely old woman
In the forest hut.
Ugly raven -
And he's beautiful on the first snow
On a winter morning!
Like soot sweeps away
Cryptomerium tops treplet
A rising storm.
Fish and birds
I don't envy anymore... I'll forget
All the sorrows of the year Under the new year
Nightingales sing everywhere.
There - behind the bamboo grove,
Here - in front of the river willow.
From branch to branch
Quietly running drops ...
Spring rain.
Through the hedge
How many times have they fluttered
Butterfly wings!
Closed her mouth tightly
Sea shell.
Unbearable heat!
Only the breeze dies -
Willow branch to branch
The butterfly will flutter.
The winter hearth is getting along.
How old the familiar stove-maker has aged!
Whitened strands of hair.
Year after year, the same
Monkey amuses the crowd
In a monkey mask.
Didn't take my hands off
Like a spring breeze
Settled in a green sprout. planting rice
Rain follows rain
And the heart is no longer disturbed
Sprouts in the rice fields.
Stayed and left
Bright moon... Remained
Table with four corners. In memory of the poet Tojun
First fungus!
Still, autumn dews,
He didn't count you.
perched a boy
On the saddle, and the horse is waiting.
Collect radish.
The duck crouched down on the ground.
Covered with a dress of wings
Your bare feet...
Sweep the soot.
For myself this time
The carpenter gets along well. Before New Year
O spring rain!
Streams run from the roof
Along wasp nests.
Under an open umbrella
I make my way through the branches.
Willows in the first fluff.
From the sky of their peaks
Only river willows
Still pouring rain.
Hillock next to the road.
To replace the extinguished rainbow -
Azaleas in the sunset light.
Lightning at night in darkness.
Lakes expanse of water
Sparks flared up suddenly.
Waves run across the lake.
Some regret the heat
Sunset clouds.
The ground is slipping from under your feet.
I grab onto a light ear ...
The moment of parting has come. Saying goodbye to friends
My whole life is on the way!
Like I'm digging up a little field
I wander back and forth.
transparent waterfall...
Fell into the light
Pine needle.
Hanging in the sun
Cloud ... Randomly on it -
Migratory birds.
Buckwheat did not ripen
But they treat the field in flowers
A guest in a mountain village.
End of autumn days.
Already raising his hands
Shell chestnut.
What do people eat there?
House stuck to the ground
Under the autumn willows.
Chrysanthemum scent...
In the temples of ancient Nara
Dark buddha statues.
Autumn mist
Broke and drives away
Friends conversation.
Oh this long way!
The autumn dusk is falling,
And not a soul around.
Why am I so strong
Did you smell old age this fall?
Clouds and birds.
Late autumn.
I'm alone thinking
"And how does my neighbor live?"
On the way, I fell ill.
And everything is running, circling my dream
Through the scorched fields. death song
* * *
Poems from travel diaries
Maybe my bones
The wind will whiten - It is in the heart
I breathed cold. Going on the road
You are sad, listening to the cry of the monkeys!
Do you know how a child cries
Abandoned in the autumn wind?
Moonless night. Darkness.
With millennial cryptomeria
Grabbed into an embrace whirlwind.
The ivy leaf is quivering.
In a small bamboo grove
The first storm rumbles.
You stand indestructible, pine tree!
And how many monks have lived here,
How many bindweeds have faded... In the garden of the old monastery
Drops dewdrops - current-current -
Source, as in previous years ...
Wash away the worldly dirt! The source sung by the Saigyo
Twilight over the sea.
Only the cries of wild ducks in the distance
Blurred white.
Spring morning.
Over every nameless hill
Transparent haze.
I am walking along the mountain path.
Suddenly it became easy for me.
Violets in dense grass.
From the heart of a peony
The bee crawls slowly...
Oh, with what reluctance! Leaving a hospitable home
young horse
Chewing merrily ears of corn.
Rest on the way.
To the capital - there, far away -
Only half of the sky remains...
Snow clouds. On the mountain pass
Winter day sun
My shadow is freezing
On the horse's back.
She is only nine days old.
But they know both fields and mountains:
Spring has come again.
Cobwebs in the sky.
I see the image of the Buddha again
At the foot of the empty. Where the statue of Buddha once stood
Let's hit the road! I'll show you
Like cherry blossoms in distant Yoshino,
My old hat.
As soon as I got well,
Exhausted, until the night ...
And suddenly - wisteria flowers!
Soaring larks above
I sat down in the sky to rest -
On the crest of the pass.
Cherries at the waterfall...
For those who love good wine,
I'll take down the branch as a gift. Waterfall "Dragon Gate"
Like spring rain
Runs under a canopy of branches...
The spring softly whispers. Stream near the hut where Saigyo lived
Gone spring
In the distant harbor of Waka
I finally caught up.
On Buddha's birthday
He was born into the world
Little deer.
I saw before
In the rays of dawn the face of a fisherman,
And then - a blooming poppy.
Where it flies
The cry of the dawn cuckoo,
What's there? - A remote island.
Matsuo Basho. Engraving by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi from the 101 Views of the Moon series. 1891 The Library of Congress
Genre haiku originated from another classical genre - five-line tank in 31 syllables, known since the 8th century. There was a caesura in the tanka, at this point it “broke” into two parts, resulting in a three-line 17 syllable and a couplet in 14 syllables - a kind of dialogue that was often composed by two authors. This original three-verse was called haiku, which literally means "initial stanzas". Then, when the tercet received an independent meaning, became a genre with its own complex laws, they began to call it haiku.
The Japanese genius finds itself in brevity. Three-verse haiku is the most concise genre of Japanese poetry: only 17 syllables of 5-7-5 mor mora- a unit of measure for the number (longitude) of a foot. Mora is the time required to pronounce a short syllable. in line. In a 17-complex poem, there are only three or four meaningful words. In Japanese, haiku is written in one line from top to bottom. In European languages, haiku is written in three lines. Japanese poetry does not know rhymes; by the 9th century, phonetics had developed Japanese language, including only 5 vowels (a, i, y, e, o) and 10 consonants (except for voiced ones). With such phonetic poverty, no interesting rhyme is possible. Formally, the poem is based on the count of syllables.
Until the 17th century, haiku writing was viewed as a game. Hai-ku became a serious genre with the appearance of the poet Matsuo Basho on the literary scene. In 1681, he wrote the famous poem about the crow and completely changed the world of haiku:
On a dead branch
Raven blackens.
Autumn evening. Translation by Konstantin Balmont.
Note that the Russian symbolist of the older generation Konstantin Balmont in this translation replaced the “dry” branch with a “dead” one, unnecessarily, according to the laws of Japanese versification, dramatizing this poem. In translation, it turns out that the rule of avoiding evaluative words, definitions in general, except for the most ordinary ones, is violated. "Haiku Words" ( haigo) should be distinguished by deliberate, precisely adjusted simplicity, difficult to achieve, but clearly felt insipidity. Nevertheless, this translation correctly conveys the atmosphere created by Basho in this haiku, which has become a classic, the melancholy of loneliness, universal sadness.
There is another translation of this poem:
Here the translator added the word "lonely", which is missing in Japanese text, nevertheless its inclusion is justified, since "sad loneliness on an autumn evening" is the main theme of this haiku. Both translations are highly acclaimed by critics.
However, it is obvious that the poem is even simpler than it was presented by the translators. If you give it a literal translation and place it in one line, as the Japanese write haiku, then you get the following extremely brief statement:
枯れ枝にからすのとまりけるや秋の暮れ
On a dry branch / a raven sits / autumn twilight
As we can see, the word "black" is missing in the original, it is only implied. The image of a “frozen raven on a bare tree” is Chinese in origin. "Autumn Twilight" aki no kure) can also be interpreted as late autumn”, and as “autumn evening”. Monochrome is a quality highly valued in the art of haiku; the time of day and year is depicted, erasing all colors.
Haiku is least of all a description. It is necessary not to describe, the classics said, but to name things (literally “give names to things” - down the hole) limit in simple terms and so, as if calling them for the first time.
Raven on a winter branch. Engraving by Watanabe Seitei. Around 1900 ukiyo-e.org Haiku are not miniatures, as they have long been called in Europe. The greatest haiku poet of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, who died early from tuberculosis, Masaoka Shiki, wrote that haiku contains the whole world: the raging ocean, earthquakes, typhoons, the sky and stars - the whole earth with the highest peaks and the deepest sea depressions. The haiku space is immeasurable, infinite. In addition, haiku tends to be combined into cycles, into poetic diaries - and often life-long, so that brevity of haiku can turn into its opposite: into the longest works - collections of poems (albeit of a discrete, interrupted nature ).
But the passage of time, past and future X aiku does not depict, haiku is a brief moment of the present - and nothing more. Here is an example of Issa's haiku, perhaps the most beloved poet in Japan:
How the cherry blossoms!
She drove off the horse
And the proud prince.
Transience is an immanent property of life in the understanding of the Japanese; without it, life has no value and meaning. Transience is so beautiful and sad because its nature is impermanent, changeable.
An important place in haiku poetry is associated with the four seasons - autumn, winter, spring and summer. The sages said: "He who has seen the seasons has seen everything." That is, I saw birth, growing up, love, new birth and death. Therefore, in classical haiku, the necessary element is the “seasonal word” ( kigo), which connects the poem with the seasons. Sometimes these words are hard to recognize by foreigners, but the Japanese know them all. Detailed databases of kigo are now being searched on Japanese networks, some with thousands of words.
In the above haiku about the crow, the seasonal word is very simple - "autumn". The color of this poem is very dark, accentuated by the atmosphere of an autumn evening, literally “autumn twilight”, that is, black against the background of gathering twilight.
See how gracefully Basho introduces the obligatory sign of the season into the parting poem:
For a spike of barley
I grabbed, looking for support ...
How difficult is the moment of separation!
"Spikelet of barley" directly indicates the end of summer.
Or in a tragic poem by the poetess Chiyo-ni on the death of her little son:
O my dragonfly hunter!
Where in an unknown country
Are you running today?
"Dragonfly" is a seasonal word for summer.
Another "summer" poem by Basho:
Summer herbs!
Here they are, the fallen warriors
Dreams of fame...
Basho is called the poet of wanderings: he wandered around Japan a lot in search of true haiku, and, going on a journey, he did not care about food, lodging for the night, vagabonds, and the vicissitudes of the journey in the remote mountains. On the way he was accompanied by the fear of death. The sign of this fear was the image of "Bones Whitening in the Field" - that was the title of the first book of his poetic diary, written in the genre haibun("haiku-style prose"):
Maybe my bones
The wind will whiten ... He is in the heart
I breathed cold.
After Basho, the theme of "death on the way" became canonical. Here is his last poem, "The Death Song":
On the way I got sick
And everything is running, circling my dream
Through the scorched fields.
Imitating Basho, haiku poets always composed "the last stanzas" before they died.
"True" ( makoto no) the poems of Basho, Buson, Issa are close to our contemporaries. The historical distance seems to be removed in them due to the immutability of the haiku language, its formulaic nature, which has been preserved throughout the history of the genre from the 15th century to the present day.
The main thing in the worldview of a haikaist is a keen personal interest in the form of things, their essence, connections. Let's remember the words of Basho: "Learn from the pine, what is the pine, learn from the bamboo, what is the bamboo." Japanese poets cultivated a meditative contemplation of nature, peering into the objects surrounding a person in the world, into the endless cycle of things in nature, into its bodily, sensual features. The goal of the poet is to observe nature and intuitively perceive its connections with the human world; Haikaists rejected ugliness, non-objectivity, utilitarianism, abstraction.
Basho created not only haiku poetry and haibun prose, but also the image of a wandering poet - a noble man, outwardly ascetic, in a poor dress, far from everything worldly, but also aware of the sad involvement in everything that happens in the world, preaching conscious "simplification". The haiku poet is characterized by an obsession with wanderings, the Zen Buddhist ability to embody the great in the small, awareness of the frailty of the world, the fragility and variability of life, the loneliness of man in the universe, the astringent bitterness of being, the feeling of the inseparability of nature and man, hypersensitivity to all natural phenomena and the change of seasons. .
The ideal of such a person is poverty, simplicity, sincerity, a state of spiritual concentration necessary to comprehend things, but also lightness, transparency of verse, the ability to depict the eternal in the current.
At the end of these notes, we will cite two poems by Issa, a poet who tenderly treated everything small, fragile, defenseless:
Quietly, quietly crawl
Snail, on the slope of Fuji,
Up to the very heights!Hiding under the bridge
Sleeping on a snowy winter night
Homeless child.
Basho is considered the First Grand Master of Haiku. According to Basho, the process of writing a poem begins with the poet's insight into " inner life", into the "soul" of an object or phenomenon, with the subsequent transfer of this "internal state" in a simple and laconic form of a three-line. Basho associated this ability with the principle-state of "sabi" ("sadness of loneliness", or "enlightened loneliness"), which allows you to see the "inner beauty", expressed in simple, even stingy forms. First of all, this meant a special type of whole life - Basho lived modestly and solitarily, had almost no property (although he was of good origin), traveled a lot. In addition to haiku and renga, he left behind several poetic diaries.
On a high tide day*
The sleeves are soiled."Snail catchers" all day through the fields
They wander, they wander without rest.
Harvest tea leaves in spring
All the leaves were plucked by pickers...How do they know what's for the tea bushes
They are like the wind of autumn!
Student response *
And I am a simple man!Only bindweed blooms
I eat my morning rice.
In a thatched hut
Like a banana moaning in the wind,How drops fall into a tub,
I hear all night long.
Leaving home
cloud ridgeI lay down between friends... We said goodbye
Migratory geese forever.
I am sad, alone, in a hut, having buried my monk friend Dokkan
Someone else to beckon!As if frozen forever
The feather grass does not move. *
Grove on the slope of the mountain.
As if the mountain is intercepted
Sword belt.
It's time for the May rains.
Like the sea glows with lights
Night watchmen lanterns.
Frost hid him
The wind makes his bed.
Abandoned child.
What is stupider than darkness!
I wanted to catch a firefly -
and ran into a thorn.
Today "grass of oblivion"
I want to season my rice
Seeing off the old year.
There is such a moon in the sky
Like a tree cut down at the root:
A fresh cut turns white.
The yellow leaf floats.
Which coast, cicada,
Do you suddenly wake up?
Everything was whitened by the morning snow.
One sign for the eye -
Bow arrows in the garden.
How the river overflowed!
The heron wanders on short legs
Knee-deep in water.
Quiet moonlit night...
Heard in the depths of the chestnut tree
The nucleolus gnaws at the worm.
On a bare branch
Raven sits alone.
Autumn evening.
In the darkness of a moonless night
The fox crawls on the ground
Stealing towards a ripe melon.
teeming with sea grass
Transparent fry ... Catch -
They melt without a trace.
Willow leaned over and sleeps.
And it seems to me, a nightingale on a branch
This is her soul.
Top-top is my horse.
I see myself in the picture -
In the expanse of summer meadows.
The poets have moved.
Poems in memory of the poet Xampu
Brought to your grave Not proud lotus leaves -
A bunch of field grass.
In the house of Kawano shoha, stems of flowering melons stood in a cracked vase, a zither without strings lay nearby, drops of water oozed and, falling on the zither, made it sound *
Blooming melon stalks.Falling, falling drops with a ringing.
Or is it the "flowers of oblivion"?
In my cramped hut
Illuminated all four corners
Moon looking out the window.
Short rest in a hospitable house
Here I will finally throw into the seaStorm-worn hat
My torn sandals.
You hear suddenly "shorch-shorch".
Sadness stirs in my heart...
Bamboo on a frosty night.
in a foreign land
A thin tongue of fire, -The oil in the lamp has frozen.
Wake up... What sadness!
Wandering raven, look!
Where is your old nest?
Plum blossoms everywhere.
Oncoming mountain dweller
The mouth didn't open. Up to the chin
He gets grass.
Looked at the moon.
Finally we can breathe! -
A fleeting cloud.
How the autumn wind whistles!
Then only understand my poems,
When you spend the night in the field.
And I want to live in autumn
To this butterfly: drinks hastily
Dew from the chrysanthemum.
Flowers withered.
Seeds are falling, falling
Like tears...
gusty leaf breaker
Hid in a bamboo grove
And gradually calmed down.
On the New Year
How many snows have you seenBut their hearts have not changed
Pine branches are green!
In memory of a friend
Take a close look!Shepherd's purse flowers
You will see under the fence.
I look out the window after illness
Temple Kannon there, in the distance,The tiled roof is red
In clouds of cherry blossoms.
They fly to the ground
Return to old roots.
Separation of flowers!
old pond
The frog jumped into the water.
A surge in silence.
Oh, wake up, wake up!
Become my friend.
Sleeping moth!
To a friend who went to the western provinces
West East -Everywhere the same trouble
The wind is still cold.
I walk around the pond
Autumn Moon Festival.Around the pond, and around again,
All night long!
Grain storage jug
That's all I'm rich in!Light as my life
Pumpkin gourd.
This overgrown grass
Only you remained faithful to the hut,
Winter colza carrier.
The first snow - in the morning.
He barely ducked
Narcissus leaves.
The water is so cold!
Seagull can't sleep
Ride on the wave.
The pitcher burst with a crash:
At night, the water in it froze.
I woke up suddenly.
New Year's market in the city.
And I would like to visit it at least once!
Buy smoking sticks.
Hey shepherd boys!
Leave some plum branches,
Cutting whips.
Moon or morning snow...
Admiring the beautiful, I lived as I wanted.
This is how I end the year.
To a departing friend
Friend don't forgetHidden invisibly in the thicket
Plum color!
Seaweed is lighter...
And the old merchant wears on his shoulder
Baskets of heavy oysters.
Clouds of cherry blossoms!
The ringing of the bell floated ...
From Ueno or Asakusa? *
In a flower cup
A bumblebee is napping. Don't touch him
Sparrow friend!
Stork nest in the wind.
And below it - beyond the storm
Cherries are a calm color.
Long day away
Sings - and does not get drunk
Lark in spring.
To a friend who's on the road
A nest abandoned by a bird...How sad it will be for me to look
To the empty house of a neighbor.
Over the expanse of fields -
Not tied to the ground
The lark calls.
May rains pour down. *
Did the rim burst somewhere on the barrel?
The sound of an obscure night ...
To a widowed friend
Even a white flower on the fenceNear the house where the mistress was gone,
Cold covered me.
Let's go, friends, let's see
On the floating nests of ducks
In the flood of May rains!
loudly hammering
Pillar of a lonely hut
Woodpecker.
It's been a clear day.
But where do the drops come from?
A patch of clouds in the sky.
Branch, or something, broke off
Wind running through the pines?
How cool is the splash of water!
Pure spring!
Up ran down my leg
Little crab.
Next to blooming bindweed
The thresher rests in the heat.
How sad it is, our world!
In a deserted garden of a friend
He grew melons here.
And now the old garden is dead...
evening chill
Here in drunkennessTo fall asleep on these river stones,
Overgrown with cloves...
In praise of the poet Rick
As if taken in handLightning when in the dark
You lit a candle.
How fast the moon flies!
On fixed branches
Drops of rain hung.
For the night, at least for one night,
O blooming hagi bushes,
Adopt a stray dog!
important steps
Heron on fresh stubble.
Autumn in the village.
Dropped for a moment
Threshing rice peasant,
Looks at the moon.
sluggish sweet potato leaves
On a dry field. moonrise
The peasants are waiting.
Get up off the ground again
Fading in the mist, chrysanthemums,
Crushed by heavy rain.
She completely lay down on the ground
But inevitably bloom
Sick chrysanthemum.
Clouds filled with rain
Only above the crest of the foothills.
Fuji - turns white in the snow.
On the sea coast
All in the sand, all in the snow!My companion fell off his horse,
Drunk with wine.
Winter sprouts have sprouted.
Glorious shelter for a hermit -
Village among the fields.
In the haze of May rains
Only one does not sink
Bridge over the Seta river. *
Pray for happy days!
On a winter plum tree
Be like your heart.
Travel accommodation
I'm burning pine needles.I'm drying my towel on the fire...
Winter cold on the way.
At home
Whip their noses...Sweet country sound!
Plum blossoms.
In a glass of wine
Swallows, don't drop
Clay lump.
Under the shade of cherry blossoms
I'm like an old drama hero,
At night lay down to sleep.
Cherries in full bloom!
And the dawn is the same as always
There, over a distant mountain...
Catching Fireflies Over the Seta River*
Still flicker in the eyesMountain cherries... And they draw with fire
Along them are fireflies over the river.
There used to be a castle here...
Let me be the first to tell about it
A spring flowing in an old well.
Autumn evening
It seems like nowThe bell will also buzz in response ...
So the cicadas call.
How thick the grass is in summer!
And only one-leaf
One single sheet.
Like a fragile young man
O flowers forgotten in the fields,
You wilt in vain.
I watch at night how fishing boats with cormorants pass by *
I had fun, but thenIt became something sad ... Float
Fishing boats have lights.
In praise of the new home
The house was a success!Sparrows in the backyard
Millet happily peck.
All bindweeds on one person.
What about gourds in autumn?
No two are the same!
Autumn is near.
Field in the ears and the sea
One, green.
Oh no ready
I can't find a comparison for you
Three day month!
hanging motionless
Dark cloud in the sky.
It can be seen that lightning is waiting.
Oh, how many of them are in the fields!
But everyone blooms in their own way, -
This is the highest feat of a flower!
Wrapped his life
around the suspension bridge
This wild ivy.
On the mountain of the "Abandoned Old Woman" *
I dreamed of an old story:The old woman abandoned in the mountains is crying,
And only a month is her friend.
Then he said "goodbye" to others,
Then they said goodbye to me ... And at the end of the road
Autumn in the Kiso mountains. *
A chestnut fell from a branch.
To those who have not been to the distant mountains,
I'll take it as a gift.
Only one verse!
That's all there is in Banana Shelter
Spring has brought port.
friend
visit meIn my loneliness!
The first leaf fell...
Ran out of rice in the house...
I'll put it in a pumpkin from under the grain
"Women's beauty" flower.
Still standing here and there
The spikes are uncompressed by islands.
The snipe screams in alarm.
Poet Rika mourns his wife
Blanket for one.And icy black
Winter night... Oh, sadness!
On the day of cleansing from sins
A fresh breeze blewThe fish jumped out...
Bathing in the river. *
Winter days alone.
I'll lean back again
To the post in the middle of the hut.
Father yearning for his child
Everyone falls and hisses.That's about the fire in the depths of the ash
Extinguished from these tears.
letter to the north
Do you remember how with youHave we looked at the snow? .. And this year
He must have fallen out again.
Cut reeds for the roof.
On forgotten stems
Light snow is falling.
early spring
Suddenly I see - from the very shouldersmy paper dress
Cobwebs, swaying, grow.
I give up my house for the summer
And you are guestsFound in the spring, my hut:
Become a dollhouse.
Spring is leaving.
The birds are crying. The eyes of fish
Full of tears.
The sun is setting.
And cobwebs too
Melt in the dusk...
The ringing of the evening bell
And then here, in the wilderness, you will not hear.
Spring twilight.
On Mount "Sunshine" *
Oh, holy delight!On green, on young foliage
Sunlight is pouring.
Here it is - my guiding sign!
Among the tall meadow grasses
A man with an armful of hay.
Garden and mountain in the distance
Trembling, moving, entering
In a summer open house.
Peasant suffering
Weed... Harvest...Only joys in summer -
Cuckoo cry.
Driver! lead the horse
Over there, across the field!
There is a cuckoo singing.
Near the "Stone of Death"
The rock breathes poison. *All around the grass turned red.
Even dew on fire.
Wind at Old Shirakawa Outpost *
West wind? Oriental?No, before I listen to how it makes noise
Wind over the rice field.
On the way north I listen to the songs of the peasants
Here is the source, here is the beginningAll poetic art!
Rice Planting Song.
May rains
Waterfall buried
Filled with water.
Islands... Islands...
And crushed into hundreds of fragments
Summer day sea.
On the old battlefield
summer herbs
Where the heroes have disappeared
Like a dream. What a blessing!
Cool green rice field.
The murmur of water...
Silence around.
Penetrates into the heart of the rocks
Light sound of cicadas.
What a speed!
Mogami River collected*
All May rains.
three day month
Above the Black Wing
Cool blows.
The heat of a sunny day
The Mogami River carried away
Into the depths of the sea
"Gate of the Tide".
Washes the heron up to the chest
Cool sea.
First melon, friends!
Shall we divide it into four parts?
Shall we cut it into circles?
Drying small perches
On the branches of a willow... What a coolness!
Fishing huts on the shore.
Wooden pestle.
Was he ever a plum?
Was it a camellia?
On the eve of the Tanabata Festival
Celebration of the meeting of two stars. *Even the night before is so different
For a normal night.
Raging sea space!
Far, to Sado Island, *
The Milky Way creeps.
In hotel
With me under the same roofTwo girls... Hagi branches in bloom
And a lonely month
What does ripe rice smell like?
I was walking across the field, and suddenly
To the right is the Gulf of Ariso. *
In front of the grave mound of the early deceased poet Issho
Tremble, oh hill!Autumn wind in the field -
My lonely moan.
Red-red sun
In the desert distance ... But it freezes
Ruthless autumn wind.
The area called "Pine"
"Pine"... Nice name!Leaning towards the pines in the wind
Bushes and autumn grasses.
Berries fall from branches...
A flock of starlings fluttered noisily.
Morning wind.
Musashi Plain around. *
None will touch the cloud
Your travel hat.
In autumn fields
Wet, walking in the rainBut this traveler is also worthy of a song,
Not only hagi in bloom.
Father who lost his son
Drop your head to the ground,As if the whole world is turned upside down,
Bamboo covered in snow.
Sanemori Helmet*
Oh, merciless rock!Under this glorious helmet
Now the cricket is ringing.
Whiter than white rocks *
On the slopes of Stone Mountain
This autumn whirlwind!
Breaking up with a friend
Farewell versesI wanted to write on a fan -
It broke in his hand.
In Tsuruga Bay, where the bell once sank
Where are you, moon, now?Like a sunken bell
Hidden at the bottom of the sea.
The wave receded for a moment.
Among the small shells turn pink
Fallen hagi petals.
Butterfly never
He won't... He's shaking in vain
Worm in the autumn wind.
I opened the door and saw Mount Ibuki to the west. She doesn't need cherry blossoms or snow, she's good on her own
Such as it is!She doesn't need moonlight...
Ibuki mountain.
On the shores of Futami Bay, where the poet Saige lived
Maybe he once servedInkstone this stone?
The hole in it is full of dew.
I am alone in the house in autumn.
Well, I'll pick berries
Collect fruits from the branches.
Cold rain without end.
This is how a chilled monkey looks,
As if asking for a straw cloak.
How long is
It's raining! On the bare field
The stubble turned black.
Winter night in the garden.
With a thin thread - and a month in the sky,
And cicadas barely audible ringing.
In a mountain village
Nuns storyAbout the former service at the court ...
Deep snow all around.
I play with children in the mountains
Children, who is faster?We'll catch up with the balls
Ice cereal.
Snow hare - as if alive!
But one thing remains, children:
Let's make him a mustache.
Tell me what for
Oh raven, to the noisy city
Are you flying from here?
thaw in the snow,
And in it - light purple
Asparagus stalk.
Spring rains.
How Chernobyl stretches up
On this dead path!
Sparrows above the window
They squeak, and they respond
Mice in the attic.
Bonite seller is coming.
How rich are they today
Will they help you drink wine?
How tender are the young leaves
Even here in the weeds
At the forgotten house.
Camellia petals...
Maybe the nightingale dropped
Flower hat?
Spring rain...
Already released two sheets
Eggplant seeds.
Over the old river
Filled with young buds
Willows on the shore.
Ivy leaves...
For some reason their smoky purple
He talks about the past.
On a picture depicting a man with a glass of wine in his hand
No moon, no flowers.And he does not wait for them, he drinks,
Lonely, wine.
Celebrate the New Year in the capital
Spring Festival...But who is he, covered with matting
Beggar in the crowd? *
Mossy gravestone.
Under it - is it in reality or in a dream?
A voice whispers prayers.
Everything is crashing dragonfly...
Can't get caught
For stalks of flexible grass.
Do not think with contempt:
"What small seeds!"
It's red pepper.
On a high embankment - pines,
And between them the cherries are visible and the palace
In the depths of flowering trees...
First left the grass
Then he left the trees.
Lark flight.
The bell is silent in the distance,
But the scent of evening flowers
Its echo floats.
The cobwebs tremble a little.
fine strands of saiko grass
They tremble in the twilight.
From four sides
Cherry petals are flying
In lake Nio. *
The spring night has passed.
White dawn turned around
A sea of cherry blossoms.
The lark sings.
With a ringing blow in the thicket
The pheasant echoes him.
dropping petals,
Suddenly spilled a handful of water
Camellia flower.
The stream is slightly visible.
Float through the thicket of bamboo
Camellia petals.
Here's a connoisseur's quirk!
On a flower without fragrance
The moth dropped.
May rain is endless.
Mallows are reaching somewhere
Looking for the path of the sun.
Cold mountain spring.
I did not have time to scoop up a handful of water,
Like broken teeth.
Falling down with a leaf...
No, look! Halfway
The firefly fluttered.
Night on the river Seta
We love fireflies.But the boatman is unreliable: he is drunk
And the waves carry the boat away ...
How bright the fireflies burn
Resting on tree branches!
Travel overnight flowers!
And who could say
Why do they have such a short life?
The silent sound of cicadas.
In my old house
Mosquitoes hardly bite.
Here's a treat for a friend!
Morning hour
Or evening, - you don't care
Melon flowers!
And flowers and fruits!
Melon is rich for everyone at once
At your best time.
Fisherman's hut.
Messed up in a pile of shrimp
Lone cricket. *
A wise monk said: "The teachings of the Zen sect, misunderstood, cause great injury to souls." I agreed with him *
One hundred times more nobleWho does not say at the flash of lightning:
"Here it is - our life!"
White hair fell.
Under my headboard
The cricket does not stop.
Ill go down goose
On the field on a cold night.
Sleep lonely on the way.
Transparent autumn night.
Far, to the Seven Stars,
The sound of rollers is heard.
"First the monkey bathrobe!" -
Asks the laundresses to roll
Chilled guide.
They scare them, drive them from the fields!
Sparrows will fly up and hide
Under the protection of tea bushes.
It's the end of autumn
But believe in the future
Green tangerine.
To the portrait of a friend
Turn to me!I'm sad too
Deaf in autumn.
Even a wild boar
Will swirl, take away with it
This winter whirlwind of the field!
I eat my stew alone.
Like someone is playing the zither -
The city is rattling.
At the road hotel
Portable hearth.So, the heart of wanderings, and for you
There is no rest anywhere.
The cold came along the way.
At the bird's scarecrow, or something,
In debt to ask for sleeves?
Dried this mackerel
And a beggar monk, emaciated,
Out in the cold on a winter day.
All through the long night
It seemed to me that the bamboo was getting cold.
Morning rose in the snow.
Seaweed stalks.
The sand gritted against my teeth. *
And I remembered that I was getting old.
Manzai came late *
To a mountain village.
The plums are already blooming.
Where does the cuckoo cry from?
Through thick bamboo
Lunar night oozes.
In the village
Completely emaciated catOne barley porridge eats ...
And also love!
Night. Bottomless darkness.
It's true, he lost his nest
A sandpiper is moaning somewhere.
Why all of a sudden such laziness?
They just woke me up today.
Noisy spring rain.
sad me
Drink more sadness
Cuckoos distant call!
I clapped my hands loudly.
And where the echo sounded
The summer moon is blazing.
Finding my child's drawing
Smells like childhood...I found an old drawing
Bamboo sprouts.
May tedious rain -
Torn pieces of colored paper
On a dilapidated wall.
Whatever day, whatever day
Everything is yellower than the ears.
The larks sing.
solitary house
In rural silence... Even a woodpecker
Don't knock on this door!
It drizzles endlessly.
Only mallows shine, as if
Above them is a cloudless day.
On a full moon night
A friend sent me a giftRisu, and I invited him
Visit the moon itself.
Light river breeze.
Tea is good! And the wine is good!
And the moonlit night is good!
Deep antiquity Breathed ...
Garden near the temple
Covered with dead leaves.
Moon of the sixteenth night
So easy-easyCame out - and in the cloud
The moon thought.
Unlock the door!
Let the moonlight in
To Ukimido Shrine! *
Bridge rafters overgrown
"Sorrow-grass" ... Today she
Say goodbye to the full moon. *
Quail scream.
It must be evening.
The eye of the hawk faded.
Together with the owner of the house
I listen silently to the evening bells.
Willow leaves are falling.
White fungus in the forest.
Some unfamiliar leaf
Sticking to his hat.
What sadness!
Suspended in a small cage
Captive cricket. *
They cook noodles for dinner.
How the fire burns under the cauldron
On this cold night!
Night silence.
Just behind the picture on the wall
The cricket is ringing.
That's right, this cicada
Is it all out of foam?
One shell remained.
Fallen leaves.
The whole world is one color.
Only the wind hums.
Glittering dewdrops.
But they have a taste of sadness,
Don't forget!
Planted trees in the garden.
Quiet, quiet, to encourage them,
Whispering autumn rain.
So that a cold whirlwind
To drink the aroma, they opened again
Late autumn flowers.
Rocks among cryptomeria!
How to sharpen their teeth
Winter cold wind!
Host and guest
each other daffodilAnd the white screen is thrown
Reflections of whiteness.
The falcon took off.
But tightly the hunter holds him
Cuts ice grains.
Gathered at night to admire the snow
Will there be fresh snow soon?Everyone has anticipation on their faces...
Suddenly winter lightning shine!
The sprouts are green again
In autumn fields. In the morning
Frost is like flowers.
Everything was covered in snow.
Lonely old woman
In the forest hut.
Returning to Edo after a long absence
... But, at worst, even though youStill survived under the snow
Dry stems of reeds.
Salted sea bass
Hanging, baring their teeth.
How cold it is in this fish shop!
"No rest from children!"
For such people, perhaps
And cherry blossom is not nice.
There is a special charm
In these, crumpled by the storm,
Broken chrysanthemums.
Passing through the old Rashomon gate in Kyoto on an autumn evening*
The hagi thread hit me...Or a demon grabbed my head
In the shadow of the Rashomon gate?
Monk Senka mourns for his father
dark mouse colorThe sleeves of his cassock
Even colder with tears.
Ugly raven -
And he's beautiful on the first snow
On a winter morning!
Winter storm on the way
Like soot sweeps awayCryptomeria peaks treplet
A rising storm.
New Year's Eve
Fish and birdsI don't envy anymore... I'll forget
All the sorrows of the year
Cats in love
They fell silent. Looks into the bedroom
Foggy moon.
Invisible Spring!
On the back of a mirror
Plum blossom pattern.
Nightingales sing everywhere.
There - behind the bamboo grove,
Here - in front of the river willow.
In the mountains of Kiso
Submissive to the call of the heartLand of Kiso. Pierced the old snow
Spring shoots.
From branch to branch
Quietly running drops ...
Spring rain.
Through the hedge
How many times have they fluttered
Butterfly wings!
planting rice
Didn't take my hands offLike a spring breeze
Settled in a green sprout.
All the worries, all the sadness
of your troubled heart
Give it to the flexible willow.
Only the wind blows
Willow branch to branch
The butterfly will flutter.
How enviable is their fate!
North of the world of vanity*
Cherry blossoms in the mountains.
Are you also one of those
Who does not sleep is intoxicated with flowers,
About mice in the attic?
The rain in the mulberry grove is noisy.
On the ground barely moving
Sick silkworm.
Still on the edge of the skate
The sun is burning over the roof.
The evening is chilly.
Closed her mouth tightly
Sea shell.
Unbearable heat!
Chrysanthemums in the fields
They already say forget it
Hot Carnation Days!
Moving to a new hut
banana leavesThe moon hung on poles
In a new hut.
By the light of the new moon
The earth is drowning in darkness.
White buckwheat fields.
In the moonlight
Moving towards the gate
The crest of the tide.
I'll say the word
Lips freeze.
Autumn whirlwind!
You are green as before
I could have stayed... But no! Came
It's your time, scarlet pepper.
The winter hearth is getting along.
How old the familiar stove-maker has aged!
Whitened strands of hair.
to the apprentice
Today you canUnderstand what it means to be an old man!
Autumn drizzle, fog...
Winter day *
Crumble beans for dinner.Suddenly blows into the copper cup.
Beggar monk, wait! ..
The coals turned to ash.
There is a shadow on the wall
My interlocutor.
Year after year, the same
Monkey amuses the crowd
In a monkey mask. *
In memory of a friend who died in a foreign land
You said "come back grass"Sounds so sad... Even sadder
Violets on the grave hill.
I see off the monk Sangin
The crane flew away.Gone is the black feather dress*
In a haze of flowers.
Rain follows rain
And the heart is no longer disturbed
Sprouts in the rice fields.
Birds are amazed
If this lute sounds.
The petals will sing...
Hey, listen, kids!
The daytime bindweeds are already in bloom.
Come on, let's clean the melon!
I grieve that on the holiday "Meeting of two stars" it is pouring rain
And in the sky the bridge was blown away!Two stars separated by a river
They sleep alone on the rocks.
Lamenting the death of poet Matsukura Ranrap
Where are you, my support?My staff of strong mulberry
The autumn wind broke.
I visit Ranrap's grave on the third day of the ninth month
You saw him tooThis narrow sickle ... And now it glitters
Above your grave mound.
Morning bindweed.
I locked the gate in the morning
My last friend!
white dew drops
Not spilling, swaying
Hagi autumn bush.
In memory of the poet Tojun *
Stayed and leftBright moon... Remained
Table with four corners.
First fungus!
Still, autumn dews,
He didn't count you.
How did the chrysanthemums bloom?
At the bricklayer's yard
Among the scattered stones!
Rooster combs.
They are even redder.
With the arrival of cranes.
And you have no sadness
"Birds of the fortieth" - magpies, *
What old age reminded me!
Carrying a dead duck
Shouting out your merchandise, salesman.
Ebisuko Festival. *
Praise with a treat
How good is celeryFrom distant fields near the foothills,
Covered with the first ice!
Not a single dewdrop
Don't drop them...
Ice on chrysanthemums.
rice husk
Everything is showered: mortar edges,
White chrysanthemums...
perched a boy
On the saddle, and the horse is waiting.
Collect radish.
In the old manor house
The pine has long decayed *On gilded curtains.
Winter within four walls.
Before New Year
The duck crouched down on the ground.Covered with a dress of feathers
Your bare feet...
new bridge
Everyone runs to see...How do wooden soles sound?
On the frosty boards of the bridge!
Sweep the soot.
For myself this time
The carpenter gets along well.
Seeing a painting by Kano Motonobu for sale *
...Motonobu's own brushes!How sad is the fate of your masters!
The twilight of the year is approaching.
Edible radish...
And harsh, masculine
Conversation with a samurai.
Oh spring rain!
Streams run from the roof
Along wasp nests.
Under an open umbrella
I make my way through the branches.
Willows in the first fluff.
From the sky of their peaks
Only river willows
Still pouring rain.
Green willow drops
In the muddy mud the ends of the branches.
Evening low tide.
I would like to write poems
Dissimilar to my old face,
Oh, the first cherry blossom!
I swim to the cherry blossoms.
But the oar froze in the hands:
Willows on the beach!
The inscription on the picture of my own work
She is not afraid of dew:Deep the bee hid
In peony petals.
Hillock next to the road.
Instead of a faded rainbow
Azaleas in the sunset light.
Lightning in the darkness of night.
Lakes expanse of water
Sparks flared up suddenly.
Waves run across the lake.
Some regret the heat
Sunset clouds.
Saying goodbye to friends
The ground is slipping from under your feet.I grab onto a light spike.
The moment of parting has come.
On the way to Suruga*
Aroma of flowering oranges
The smell of tea leaves...
On a rural road
I carried the brushwoodA horse to the city ... Trembling home, -
Barrel of wine on the back.
Drive from the dark sky
O mighty river Oi, *
May clouds!
For students
Don't imitate me too much!Look, what's the use of such a resemblance?
Two halves of a melon.
My whole life is on the way!
Like digging up a small field
I wander back and forth.
What freshness blows
From this melon in drops of dew,
With sticky wet earth!
Hot summer in full swing!
How the clouds swirl
On Thunder Mountain!
The image of the cold
brush painting bamboo
In the groves of the village of Saga. *
"Transparent Waterfall"...
Fell into the light
Pine needle.
Actor dancing in the garden *
Through the holes in the maskThe eyes of the actor look there,
Where the lotus is fragrant.
At a gathering of poets
Autumn is already on the doorstep.Heart reaching for heart
In a cramped hut.
What a glorious chill!
Heels leaned against the wall
And I doze in the middle of the day.
Watching an actor dance, I remember a picture of a dancing skeleton
Lightning shine!As if suddenly on his face
The feather grass swayed.
Visit family graves
The whole family wandered to the cemetery.They go, gray-haired,
Leaning on staves.
Upon hearing of Nun Jutei's passing*
Oh don't think you're one of thoseWho has no price in the world!
Memorial day...
Back in my native village
How the faces have changed!I read my old age on them.
All are elephantine winter melons.
Old village.
Branches dotted with red persimmons
Near every house.
Deceived by moonlight
I thought: cherry blossom!
No, a cotton field.
Moon over the mountain.
Fog at the bottom.
The fields are smoking.
What do people eat there?
House stuck to the ground
Under the autumn willows.
Hanging in the sun
Cloud ... Randomly on it -
Migratory birds.
End of autumn days.
Already raising his hands
Shell chestnut.
Buckwheat did not ripen
But they treat the field in flowers
A guest in a mountain village.
Just started to dry
Straw of a new collection ... How early
Rain this year!
Chrysanthemum scent...
In the temples of ancient Nara *
Dark buddha statues.
Autumn mist
Broke and drives away
Friends conversation.
Oh, this long way!
The autumn dusk is falling,
And not a soul around.
Why am I so strong
Did you smell old age this fall?
Clouds and birds.
In the house of the poetess Sonome *
Not! You won't see hereNot a single speck of dust
On the whiteness of chrysanthemums.
Late autumn.
I'm alone thinking
"And how does my neighbor live?"
On the bed of sickness
On the way, I fell ill.And everything is running, circling my dream
Through the scorched fields.
POEMS FROM THE TRAVEL DIARY "BONES WHITE IN THE FIELD"
Going on the road
Maybe my bonesThe wind will whiten ... He is in the heart
I breathed cold.
You are sad, listening to the cry of the monkeys!
Do you know how a child cries
Abandoned in the autumn wind?
I fell asleep on the horse.
Through the slumber I see a distant month.
Somewhere early smoke.
Moonless night. Darkness.
With millennial cryptomeria
Grabbed into an embrace whirlwind.
In the valley where the poet Saige lived
Girls wash sweet potatoes in a stream.If it was Saige instead of me
The song would be composed to him in response.
Ivy leaves flutter.
In a small bamboo grove
The first storm rumbles.
A strand of dead mother's hair
If I take her in my hands,Melts - so my tears are hot!
Autumn frost of hair.
In the garden of the old monastery
You stand indestructible, pine tree!And how many monks have lived here.
How many bindweeds have bloomed...
Overnight in a mountain temple
Oh let me listen againHow sadly the valek knocks in the dark, *
The priest's wife!
On a forgotten grave hill
"Sorrow-grass" has grown ... About what
Are you sad, weed?
Dead in the autumn wind
Fields and groves. Disappeared
And you, Fuwa Outpost! *
| * Fuwa Outpost |
White peony in winter!
Somewhere a sea plover is screaming
This cuckoo of snows.
In the pale morning dawn
Fry - no longer than an inch -
White on the shore.
Near the ruins of an old temple
Even "sorrow-grass"Faded here. Go to a diner?
To buy a cake, or something?
I involuntarily came to mind the master of "mad verses" Chikusai, who wandered along this road in the old days *
"Crazy Poems"... Autumn Whirlwind...Oh, how am I now in my tatters
He looks like a beggar Chikusai!
Hey, listen, merchant!
Do you want me to sell you a hat?
This hat in the snow?
Even on the rider's horse
Take a look - so the road is deserted,
And the morning is so snowy!
Twilight over the sea.
Only the cries of wild ducks
Blurred white.
And so the old year ends
And I'm wearing a travel hat
And sandals on my feet.
Spring morning.
Over every nameless hill
Transparent haze.
In the temple I pray all night.
The sound of shoes ... This is past
An ice monk is coming.
Owner of a plum orchard
Oh, how white these plums are!But where are your cranes, sorcerer?
They must have been stolen yesterday?
visiting a hermit
It stands majesticallyIgnoring the cherry blossoms
Oak is lonely.
Let my dress get wet
O Fushimi peach blossoms, *
Sprinkle, pour raindrops!
I am walking along the mountain path.
Suddenly it became easy for me.
Violets in dense grass.
Vaguely swirling in the darkness
Larch branches, foggy
Cherries in full bloom.
At noon, I sat down to rest in a road tavern
Azalea branches in a potAnd nearby crumbles dry cod
A woman in their shadow.
This is the look of a sparrow
It's like he loves
A field of colza in bloom.
After twenty years of separation, I meet with an old friend
Our two long centuries...And between us - alive -
Cherry blossom branches.
Come on, let's go! We are with you
We will eat ears along the way,
Sleep on green grass.
I hear about the death of a friend
Oh, where are you, plum blossom?I look at the colza flowers -
And the tears run, run.
Breaking up with a student
The moth beats its wings.Wants them white poppy
Leave as a farewell gift.
Leaving a hospitable home
From the heart of a peonyThe bee crawls out slowly.
Oh, with what reluctance!
young horse
Chewing merrily ears of corn.
Rest on the way.
POEMS FROM A TRAVEL DIARY
"LETTERS OF A Wandering Poet" *
To the capital - there, far away -
Only half of the sky remains...
Snow clouds.
On the eleventh day of the tenth month I set off on a long journey
Wanderer! This wordWill become my name.
Long autumn rain...
The sun of a winter day.
My shadow is freezing
On the horse's back.
"Oh, look, look,
How dark it is on the Cape of the Stars!"
Seagulls moan over the sea.
Irakozaki coast.
Here, in the desert distance,
I am glad to see kite.
How much snow fell!
But somewhere people go
Through the mountains of Hakone. *
In the rich man's garden
Only plum flavorLured me to hell
This new pantry.
I will smooth out all the wrinkles on it!
I'm going to visit - admire the snow
In this old paper dress.
Before New Year
I came for the night, I look -Why do people fuss...
Sweep the soot in the houses.
Well, rather, friends!
Let's go wandering through the first snow,
Until we fall off our feet.
She's only nine days old
But they know both fields and mountains:
Spring has come again.
Shreds of last year's grass...
Short, not longer than an inch,
The first cobwebs.
Where Buddha statues once stood
Cobwebs in the sky.I see the image of the Buddha again
At the foot of the empty.
In the garden of the late poet Sangin *
How many memoriesYou awakened in my soul
O cherries of the old garden!
Visiting Ise Shrines *
Where, on what tree are they,These flowers - I don't know
But the aroma wafted ...
Meeting with a local scientist
... But first of all I will ask:What is the name in the local dialect
Is this reed young?
I meet two poets: father and son
Grow from a single rootBoth old and young plum.
Both pour fragrance.
I visit a poor hut
Sweet potatoes are planted in the yard.Drown it out, grew at the gate
Young shoots of grass.
Let's hit the road! I'll show you
How cherry blossoms in distant Yoshino
My old hat.
As soon as I got well,
Exhausted, until the night ...
And suddenly - wisteria flowers!
Soaring larks above
I sat down in the sky to rest -
On the crest of the pass.
Waterfall "Dragon Gate"
Cherries at the waterfall...For those who love good wine,
I'll take down the branch as a gift.
Only connoisseur of fine wines
I'll tell you how the waterfall falls
In the foam of cherry blossoms.
They flew around with a rustle
Mountain rose petals...
The distant sound of a waterfall.
Resurrects in the heart
Longing for mother, father.
The cry of a lone pheasant! *
Gone spring
In the distant harbor of Waka*
I finally caught up.
Visiting Nara City *
On Buddha's birthdayHe was born into the world
Little deer.
Breaking up in Nara with an old friend
Like antler branchesDisperse from a single butt,
So we part with you.
Visiting a friend's house in Osaka
In the garden where the irises opened,Have a conversation with an old friend -
What a reward for a traveler!
I did not see the autumn full moon on the banks of the Sum
The moon is shining, but not the same.As if I did not find the owner ...
Summer on the banks of the Sum.
I saw before
In the rays of dawn the face of a fisherman,
And then - a blooming poppy.
The fishermen scare the crows.
Under the pointed arrowhead
Cuckoo alarm cry.
Where it flies
The cry of the dawn cuckoo,
What's there? Far island.
Flute Sanemori
Temple of Sumadera. *I hear the flute plays by itself
In the dark thicket of trees.
| * Sumadera Temple |
Spend the night on a ship in Akashi Bay
Octopus in a trap.He sees a dream - such a short one! -
Under the summer moon.
More from Basho
(translated by A. Dolin)
Oh dragonfly! With what difficulty on a blade of grass
You perched!
First winter rain.
Monkey - and she does not mind
Put on a straw coat...
How heavy the first snow!
They sank and drooped sadly
Leaves of daffodils...
Even the gray crow
This morning to face -
Look, how you've gotten better!
By the hearth sings
So selfless
Familiar cricket!...
Cold at night
It will lend me rags,
Scarecrow in the field.
Oh dragonfly!
With what difficulty on a blade of grass
You perched!
I planted a banana
And now they have become disgusting to me
Weed sprouts...
First winter rain.
Monkey - and she does not mind
Put on a straw coat...
How heavy the first snow!
They sank and drooped sadly
Leaves of daffodils...
The duck crouched down on the ground.
Covered with a dress of wings
Your bare feet...
Edible radish…
And harsh, masculine
Conversation with a samurai.
The moon turned pale in the sky.
The last day of the year has arrived.
Everywhere pestles knock.
Oh spring rain!
Streams run from the roof
Along wasp nests.
The wind, filled with rain,
He rips off his straw cloak.
Excites spring willows ...
***
Under an open umbrella
I make my way through the branches.
Willows in the first fluff.
From the sky of their peaks
Only river willows
Still pouring rain.
Green willow drops
In the muddy mud the ends of the branches.
Evening low tide.
I would like to write poems
With my old face dissimilar.
Oh, the first cherry blossom!
I swim to the cherry blossoms
But the oar froze in the hands:
Willows on the beach!
Hillock next to the road.
To replace the extinguished rainbow -
Azaleas in the sunset light.
The poet who built himself a new home.
She is not afraid of dew:
Deep the bee hid
In peony petals.
Saying goodbye to friends
The ground is slipping from under your feet.
I grab onto a light ear ...
The moment of parting has come.
Lightning in the darkness of night.
Lakes expanse of water
Resting in the shade of the leaves
Tea pickers listen.
Waves run across the lake.
Some regret the heat
In a grove of young bamboo
He cries about his old age.
On the way to Suruga
Aroma of flowering oranges
The smell of tea leaves...
Drive from the dark sky
O mighty river Oi,
May clouds!
My whole life is on the way!
Like digging up a small field
I wander back and forth.
On a rural road
I carried the brushwood
Horse in the city ... Trembling home -
Barrel of wine on the back.
For students
Don't imitate me too much!
Look, what's the use of such a resemblance? —
Two halves of a melon.
What freshness blows
From this melon in drops of dew,
With sticky wet earth!
Hot summer in full swing!
How the clouds swirl
On Thunder Mountain!
The image of the cold
brush painting bamboo
In the groves of the village of Saga.
"Transparent Waterfall"...
Fell into the light
Pine needle.
Actor dancing in the garden
Through the holes in the mask
The eyes of the actor look there,
Where the lotus is fragrant.
At a gathering of poets
Autumn is already on the doorstep.
Heart reaching for heart
In a cramped hut.
What a glorious chill!
Heels leaned against the wall
And I doze in the middle of the day.
***Lightning shine!
As if suddenly on his face
The feather grass swayed.
Visit family graves
The whole family wandered to the cemetery.
They go, gray-haired,
Leaning on staves.
Upon hearing of the passing of Nun Jutei
Oh don't think you're one of those
Who has no price in the world!
Day of Remembrance…
Back in my native village
How the faces have changed!
I read my old age on them.
Everything is like winter melons.
Old village.
Branches dotted with red persimmons
Near every house.
Deceived by moonlight
I thought: cherry blossom!
No, a cotton field.
Moon over the mountain.
Fog at the bottom.
The fields are smoking.
On the night of the autumn full moon
Who admires you today?
Moon over the Yoshino mountains
Sixteen ri before you.
***
You have read haiku (poems: haiku: Japanese three-line poems) by the poet Basho, one of the great masters of Japanese poetry.
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Haiku is a waka style of classical Japanese lyric poetry that has been in use since the 16th century.
Features and examples of haiku
In a separate genre, this type of poetry, then called haiku, took shape in the 16th century; This style was given its current name in the 19th century by the poet Masaoka Shiki. Matsuo Basho is recognized as the world's most famous haiku poet.
How enviable is their fate!
North of the busy world
Cherry blossoms in the mountains!
Autumn mist
Broke and drives away
Friends conversation
The structure and stylistic features of the haiku (haiku) genre
A real Japanese haiku consists of 17 syllables that form one column of characters. With special delimiting words kireji (jap. "cutting word") - the haiku verse is broken in a ratio of 12:5 on the 5th syllable, or on the 12th.
Haiku in Japanese (Basho):
かれ朶に烏の とまりけり 秋の暮
Karaeeda nikarasu no tomarikeri aki no kure
On a bare branch
Raven sits alone.
Autumn evening.
When translating haiku poems into Western languages, kireji are replaced with a line break, so the haiku takes the form of three lines. Among haiku, it is very rare to find verses consisting of two lines, composed in a ratio of 2: 1. Today's haiku, which are written in Western languages, usually have less than 17 syllables, while haiku written in Russian can be longer.
In the original haiku, the image associated with nature, which is compared with human life, is of particular importance. In the verse, the season is indicated by using the necessary seasonal word kigo. Haiku is composed only in the present tense: the author writes about his personal feelings from the event that just happened. Classical haiku does not have a name and does not use artistic expressive means common in Western poetry (for example, rhyme), but uses some special techniques created by the national poetry of Japan. The art of creating haiku poetry lies in the art of describing one's feeling or moment of life in three lines. In the Japanese tercet every word and every image counts, they have great meaning and value. The basic rule of haiku is to express all your feelings using a minimum of words.
In haiku collections, each verse is often placed on an individual page. This is done so that the reader can concentrate, without haste, feel the atmosphere of the haiku.
haiku photography in japanese
Hokku video
Video with examples of Japanese poetry about sakura.
