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Kobayashi Issa Short Poems

Famous Short Kobayashi Issa Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Kobayashi Issa. A collection of the all-time best Kobayashi Issa short poems


by Kobayashi Issa
 In spring rain
a pretty girl
 yawning.



by Kobayashi Issa
 That wren--
looking here, looking there.
You lose something?

by Kobayashi Issa
 I'm going out,
flies, so relax,
make love.

by Kobayashi Issa
 Napped half the day;
no one 
punished me!

by Kobayashi Issa
 Summer night--
even the stars
are whispering to each other.

by Kobayashi Issa
 A cuckoo sings
to me, to the mountain,
 to me, to the mountain.

by Kobayashi Issa
 Hey, sparrow!
out of the way,
 Horse is coming.



by Kobayashi Issa
 Even on the smallest islands,
they are tilling the fields,
skylarks singing.

by Kobayashi Issa
 Napping at midday
I hear the song of rice planters
and feel ashamed of myself.

by Kobayashi Issa
 New Year's morning:
the ducks on the pond
quack and quack.

by Kobayashi Issa
 How much
are you enjying yourself,
tiger moth?

by Kobayashi Issa
 Don't worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.

by Kobayashi Issa
 His death poem:

 A bath when you're born,
 a bath when you die,
 how stupid.

by Kobayashi Issa
 Not very anxious
to bloom,
my plum tree.

by Kobayashi Issa
 Having slept, the cat gets up,
yawns, goes out
to make love.

by Kobayashi Issa
 Blossoms at night,
and the faces of people
moved by music.

by Kobayashi Issa
 All the time I pray to Buddha
I keep on
killing mosquitoes.

by Kobayashi Issa
 The moon tonight--
I even miss
her grumbling.

by Kobayashi Issa
 Last time, I think,
I'll brush the flies
from my father's face.

by Kobayashi Issa
 At my daughter's grave, thirty days
after her death:

 Windy fall--
 these are the scarlet flowers
 she liked to pick.

by Kobayashi Issa
 Face of the spring moon--
about twelve years old,
I'd say.

by Kobayashi Issa
 Writing shit about new snow
for the rich
is not art.

by Kobayashi Issa
 That pretty girl--
munching and rustling
the wrapped-up rice cake.

by Kobayashi Issa
 In this world
we walk on the roof of hell,
gazing at flowers.

by Kobayashi Issa
 A huge frog and I,
staring at each other,
neither of us moves.