Grasses bury the river bank, rain darkens the village;
the temple is lost in tall bamboo–I can’t find the gate.
They’re gathering wood and brewing herbs–I’m sorry a monk is sick;
they’ve swept the ground and burned incense–it cleans my spirit.
Farm work not finished, though we’re into Little Snow;
lamps lit before the Buddha, signal of dusk–
lately I’ve developed a taste for the quiet life.
I think how we could lie and talk together through the night.
translated by Burton Watson
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
Erm, what am I doing with my life?
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Life in islamic point of view
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Leonard Durso 
always a sense of loneliness in these early Chinese poets – I know why, but it doesn’t take away the poignancy…
You are so right.
I wonder if there is any relationship to Basho in the imagery? This is more imagistic but also more olfactory.
Well he lived 500 years before Basho so if there is any relationship it is just in sensibility. But a good observation, Bill.
As a ‘Western Buddhist’ Ive always appreciated these Chinese and Japanese poems which evoke the transient nature of life and its gift/evocation of nature. Basho is my favourite!
Glad you liked this. They do bring some peace in this troubled world.