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Matsuo Basho English Translations of haiku about spring, birds, bats, butterflies, flowers, sun, cherry.

Seeing them naked
almost makes me caress
the wanton flowers.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

As temple bells fade
flowers strike their fragrance
into the silence.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

The bat also emerges
into the birds’
world of flowers.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

When planting,
please handle the infant cherry tree tenderly,
like a baby.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

How can one fret
during cherry blossom time?
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

How I envy them,
growing high above us,
the mountain cherries.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

Curiosity:
a butterfly alights
on nectarless grass.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

A solitary butterfly
hovers over
its own shadow.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

Since spring showers insist,
the eggplant seeds
commence sprouting.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

Never belittle
the tiniest seeds:
the spunky pepper reddens.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

Once green,
behold!
The red pepper.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

After spring rains
mugwort shoots up
in grassy lanes.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

Higher than the larks,
resting amid the blue,
this mountain pass.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

Goodbye, old friend:
no longer beckoning
miscanthus plumes.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

Spying plum blossoms
the infatuated ox
bellows, “Yes!”
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

The day-lily,
dripping water
into the grasses’ forgetfulness.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

Scooped up by my hands,
the springwater
shocks my teeth with its iciness.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

The cats’ noisy mating subsides;
now into our bedroom
creeps the quiet moonlight.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

Here at Wakanoura
I’m finally in step
with fleeting and fleeing spring.
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch

A bell-less village?
Who will ring in
the end of spring?
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The temple bell unheeded?
Unheard?
Still, spring is fleeting.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The sun’s about to set:
the spring’s last shimmering heat ray.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
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