BUSON, Yosa

…..

In the wild winter wind

the voice of the water cracks

falling across the rocks

…..

A branch snaps under snow

waking me from a dream of the cherries

flowering on Yoshino

…..

Someone goes by wearing a hood

in his own darkness

not seeing the harvest moon

…..

His Holiness the Abbot

is shitting

in the withered fields”

…..

You must remain. I must depart.

Two autumns falling in the heart.

…..

Grasses are misty,

the waters silent-

a tranquil evening.”

…..

Young leaves

the sound of a waterfall

heard from far and near

…..

In the spring rain,

the pond and the river

have become one.

…..

Throw open your window

and let the scenery of clouds and sky

enter your room.