Haiku Translations of the Oriental Masters

Grasses wilt: the braking locomotive grinds to a halt —Yamaguchi Seishi, translation by Michael R. Burch Oh, fallen camellias, if I were you, I'd leap into the torrent! —Takaha Shugyo, translation by Michael R. Burch The first soft snow: leaves of the awed jonquil bow low —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch Come, investigate loneliness! a solitary leaf clings to the Kiri tree —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch Lightning shatters the darkness— the night heron's shriek —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch This day of chrysanthemums I shake and comb my wet hair, as their petals shed rain —Hisajo Sugita, translation by Michael R. Burch This darkening autumn: my neighbor, how does he continue? —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch Let us arrange these lovely flowers in the bowl since there's no rice —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch An ancient pond, the frog leaps: the silver plop and gurgle of water —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch The butterfly perfuming its wings fans the orchid —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch The first chill rain: poor monkey, you too could use a woven cape of straw —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch This snowy morning: cries of the crow I despise (ah, but so beautiful!) —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch The cheerful-chirping cricket contends gray autumn's gay, contemptuous of frost —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch Whistle on, twilight whippoorwill, solemn evangelist of loneliness —Matsuo Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch While you decline to cry, high on the mountainside a single stalk of plumegrass wilts. —O no Yasumaro, translation by Michael R. Burch Right at my feet! When did you arrive here, snail? —Kobayashi Issa, translation by Michael R. Burch Standing unsteadily, I am the scarecrow’s skinny surrogate —Kobayashi Issa, translation by Michael R. Burch Autumn wind ... She always wanted to pluck the reddest roses —Kobayashi Issa, translation by Michael R. Burch The childless woman, how tenderly she caresses homeless dolls ... —Hattori Ransetsu, translation by Michael R. Burch Clinging to the plum tree: one blossom's worth of warmth —Hattori Ransetsu, translation by Michael R. Burch One leaf falls, enlightenment! Another leaf falls, swept away by the wind ... —Hattori Ransetsu, translation by Michael R. Burch Disdaining grass, the firefly nibbles nettles— this is who I am. —Takarai Kikaku, translation by Michael R. Burch A simple man, content to breakfast with the morning glories— this is who I am. —Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch The morning glories, alas, also turned out not to embrace me —Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch The morning glories bloom, mending chinks in the old fence —Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch Morning glories, however poorly painted, still engage us —Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch I too have been accused of morning glory gazing ... —original haiku by by Michael R. Burch Taming the rage of an unrelenting sun— autumn breeze. —Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch The sun sets, relentlessly red, yet autumn’s in the wind. —Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch As autumn deepens, a butterfly sips chrysanthemum dew. —Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch As autumn draws near, so too our hearts in this small tea room. —Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch Nothing happened! Yesterday simply vanished like the blowfish soup. —Basho, translation by Michael R. Burch The surging sea crests around Sado ... and above her? An ocean of stars. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Revered figure! I bow low to the rabbit-eared Iris. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Come, butterfly, it’s late and we’ve a long way to go! —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Nothing in the cry of the cicadas suggests they know they soon must die. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I wish I could wash this perishing earth in its shimmering dew. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Spring! A nameless hill shrouded in mist. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Dabbed with morning dew and splashed with mud, the melon looks wonderfully cool. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Cold white azalea— a lone nun in her thatched straw hut. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Glimpsed on this high mountain trail, delighting my heart— wild violets —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The bee emerging from deep within the peony’s hairy recesses flies off heavily, sated —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A crow has settled on a naked branch— autumn nightfall —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Except for a woodpecker tapping at a post, the house is silent. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch That dying cricket, how he goes on about his life! —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Like a glorious shrine— on these green, budding leaves, the sun’s intense radiance. —Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A kite floats at the same place in the sky where yesterday it floated ... —Yosa Buson, translation by Michael R. Burch Wild geese pass leaving the emptiness of heaven revealed —Takaha Shugyo, translation by Michael R. Burch The new calendar: as if tomorrow is assured ... —Inahata Teiko, trans. by Michael R. Burch Ah butterfly, what dreams do you ply with your beautiful wings? —Fukuda Chiyo-ni, trans. by Michael R. Burch War stood at the end of the hall in the long shadows —Watanabe Hakusen, trans. by Michael R. Burch Along with spring leaves my child's teeth take root, blossom —Nakamura Kusatao, trans. by Michael R. Burch