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Matsuo Basho Short Poems

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

by Matsuo Basho
In the twilight rain
these brilliant-hued hibiscus . . .
A lovely sunset

by Matsuo Basho
From time to time
The clouds give rest
To the moon-beholders.

by Matsuo Basho
 Autumn moonlight--
 a worm digs silently
 into the chestnut.

by Matsuo Basho
An old silent pond...
A frog jumps into the pond,
splash! Silence again. 

by Matsuo Basho
 First winter rain--
even the monkey
 seems to want a raincoat.

A bee  Create an image from this poem
by Matsuo Basho
 A bee
staggers out
 of the peony.

by Matsuo Basho
A hill without a name
Veiled in morning mist.
The beginning of autumn: Sea and emerald paddy Both the same green.
The winds of autumn Blow: yet still green The chestnut husks.
A flash of lightning: Into the gloom Goes the heron's cry.

by Matsuo Basho
 A monk sips morning tea,
it's quiet,
 the chrysanthemum's flowering.

by Matsuo Basho
In the cicada's cry
No sign can foretell
How soon it must die. 

by Matsuo Basho
 The dragonfly
can't quite land
 on that blade of grass.

by Matsuo Basho
 Winter solitude--
in a world of one color
 the sound of wind.

by Matsuo Basho
 First day of spring--
I keep thinking about
 the end of autumn.

by Matsuo Basho
 First snow
 on the half-finished bridge.

by Matsuo Basho
 A caterpillar,
this deep in fall--
 still not a butterfly.

by Matsuo Basho
 Taking a nap,
feet planted
 against a cool wall.

by Matsuo Basho
 Heat waves shimmering
one or two inches
 above the dead grass.

by Matsuo Basho
 A snowy morning--
by myself,
 chewing on dried salmon.

by Matsuo Basho
 At a hermitage:

 A cool fall night--
getting dinner, we peeled
 eggplants, cucumbers.

by Matsuo Basho
 The oak tree:
not interested
 in cherry blossoms.

by Matsuo Basho
 Awake at night--
the sound of the water jar
 cracking in the cold.

by Matsuo Basho
 How admirable!
to see lightning and not think
 life is fleeting.

by Matsuo Basho
 Spring rain
leaking through the roof
 dripping from the wasps' nest.

by Matsuo Basho
 Don't imitate me;
it's as boring
 as the two halves of a melon.

by Matsuo Basho
 Winter garden,
the moon thinned to a thread,
 insects singing.

by Matsuo Basho
 This old village--
not a single house
 without persimmon trees.