New Year's haiku and tanka. Artistic features of haiku matsuo basho as poetry of knowledge, spiritual transformation A father yearns for his child
Matsuo Basho is the third name of the poet, by which he is known to Japan and the world. His real name is Jinsichiro Ginzaemon.
Biography of Matsuo BashoThe future poet was born into the family of a poor but educated samurai. Matsuo Basho's father and older brother were calligraphy teachers. But he chose a different fate for himself. His thirst for learning arose early and remained with him forever. While still a young man, Basho began to diligently study Chinese literature. Among his idols was the great Chinese poet Li Bo. Based on his name, which means "White Plum", Basho was called Tosei "Green Peach". This was Basho's middle name. He took the first one - Munefusa - as soon as he started writing poetry.
Diligently studying Chinese and Japanese poetry, Matsuo Basho gradually came to understand that poets have a special place among people. In addition to literature, he studied philosophy and medicine. True, after some time he realized that books could not study either man or nature, and at the age of 28 he left his native place. Matsuo Basho was prompted to take this step by the untimely death of his master, the prince’s son. They were brought together by their love of poetry. Basho became a monk (which freed the samurai from serving the feudal lord) and went to the largest Japanese city - Edo (modern Tokyo). His family tried to persuade him to abandon his “reckless act,” but he was adamant.
In Edo, the aspiring poet began to attend a poetry school. And soon he himself became a poetry teacher for young people, most of whom were as poor as himself. Poverty did not bother Basho. He felt like a follower of Buddhist monks, for whom spiritual improvement was above all material benefits. He lived in a house donated by the father of one of his students on the outskirts of Edo. Wanting to decorate his habitat, he planted a banana tree (basho in Japanese).
Probably, the noise of wide banana leaves inspired the poet’s last pseudonym - Basho. With this name he entered the history of Japanese and world poetry. Basho did not manage to live long in his hut decorated with a banana tree. She burned down. From that time (1682) until the end of his days he was a wanderer, like many poets before him. Traveling poets are a Japanese tradition. They walked around their country, looking for the most beautiful places, then described them in poetry and gave them to people. During his ten years of wandering, Matsuo Basho also traveled many roads and saw a lot of people. He left his impressions in travel diaries and in poetry. There are five “journey diaries” in total. In the memory of the Japanese, Matsuo Basho, whose biography we reviewed, remained a poet in a monastic robe and with a traveling staff.
Key dates in the life of Matsuo Basho:
1644 - born in the castle city of Ueno, Iga Province;
1672 - left his hometown and went to Edo (Tokyo) with a volume of his poems;
1684 - left Edo and went to travel around Japan;
1694 - died in Osaka.
Poems by Matsuo BashoHe wrote poems that were unusual for our perception in just three lines. The Japanese call them haiku. It is no coincidence that this poetic form arose in Japan. Its appearance is due to the entire structure of Japanese life, which takes place in a closed geographical space - on the islands. This circumstance, apparently, shaped the Japanese tendency towards asceticism and minimalism in everyday life: a light empty house, a rock garden, bansai (small trees). This also influenced laconicism in art.
Literature, especially poetry, also expressed the Japanese inner desire for small things. An example of this haiku is three lines, the length of which is strictly defined. The first has 5 syllables, the second has 7, the third has 5. In fact, haiku was formed as a result of cutting off the last two lines from the tank (5-7-5-7-7). In Japanese, haiku means opening verses. There is no rhyme in haiku, which we are accustomed to when reading Russian poets. In fact, the Japanese never had rhymes - that’s just their language.
Almost every haiku must have “seasonal words” that indicate the time of year. Winter plum, snow, ice, black color - these are images of winter; singing frogs, sakura flowers - spring; nightingale, cuckoo, “bamboo planting day” of summer; chrysanthemums, yellow leaves, rain, moon - autumn.
What sadness!
Suspended in a small cage
Captive cricket.
Sadness - because winter is coming. The cricket in the cage is her sign. In China and Japan, chirping insects (cicadas, crickets) were kept in small cages in the house during the winter, like songbirds. And they were sold in the fall.
Haiku is usually divided into two parts. The first line of the poem is its first part, which indicates the picture, the situation and sets the mood.
The May rain is endless.
The mallows are reaching somewhere,
Looking for the path of the sun.
In this haiku, the first line captures a monotonous slow-motion phenomenon and sets up a wave of despondency and melancholy.
The second part of haiku should be contrasted with the first. In this poem, stillness is compared with movement (“stretching”, “searching”), grayness, despondency - with the “sun”. Thus, the poem contains not only a compositional, but also a semantic antithesis.
Each haiku is a small painting. We not only see it, but also hear it - the sound of the wind, the cry of a pheasant, the singing of a nightingale, the croaking of a frog and the voice of a cuckoo.
The peculiarity of haiku is that it creates pictures with hints, often expressed in one word. Japanese artists do the same.
What can you write about in haiku? About everything: about their native land, about mother, father, friend, about work, art, but the main theme of haiku is nature... The Japanese love nature and it gives them great pleasure to contemplate its beauty. They even have concepts that denote the process of admiring nature. Hanami is admiring the flowers, Tsukimi is admiring the moon, Yukimi is admiring the snow. Collections of haiku were usually divided into four chapters: “Spring”, “Summer”, “Autumn”, “Winter”.
But the poems of Matsuo Basho were not only about flowers, birds, wind and the moon. Together with nature, people always live in them - he plants rice sprouts, admires the beauty of the sacred Mount Fuji, freezes on a winter night, looks at the moon. He is sad and cheerful - he is everywhere, he is the main character.
I dreamed of an old story:
An old woman abandoned in the mountains is crying.
And only a month is her friend.
The poem captures echoes of an ancient legend about how one man, believing his wife’s slander, took his old aunt, who replaced his mother, to a deserted mountain and left her there. Seeing the clear face of the moon rise above the mountain, he repented and hastened to bring the old woman back home.
Matsuo Basho often speaks allegorically about a person and his life. Here's how in this, one of the most famous, haiku of this author:
Old pond.
A frog jumped into the water.
A splash in silence.
Haiku are seemingly very simple, uncomplicated, it seems that it is not at all difficult to write them. But it seems so only at first glance. In fact, behind them lies not only the hard work of the poet, but also knowledge of the history and philosophy of his people. Here, for example, is one of Basho’s recognized masterpieces:
On a bare branch
Raven sits alone.
Autumn evening.
It seems like nothing special, but it is known that Matsuo Basho reworked this poem many times - until he found the only necessary words and put them in their place. With the help of several precise details (“hints”), the poet created a picture of late autumn. Why did Basho choose the raven out of all the birds? Of course, it's no coincidence. This is the all-knowing raven. It symbolizes Buddhist detachment from the bustle world, that is, with its deep meaning, haiku is addressed to a person - his loneliness. Behind the images of nature, Matsuo Basho always hides moods and deep thoughts. He was the first in Japan to imbue haiku with philosophical thoughts.
Haiku is that part of the culture that was part of the life of every Japanese.
Main features of haiku:
- a certain number of syllables in three lines (5-7-5);
- contrasting one part of the poem with another;
- lack of rhyme;
- presence of “hints”;
- the use of “seasonal words”;
- conciseness;
- picturesqueness;
- affirmation of two principles: nature and man;
- designed for the co-creation of the reader.
Goal - To introduce students to the poetry of M. Basho, its peculiarities, to help them perceive Japanese poetry, which is unusual for us. To evoke a response in the hearts of children to what was close to the poet, to what he wrote about.
Equipment – Portrait of a poet. Illustrations from the engraver L.A. Ilyina, graphic artist.
PROGRESS OF THE LESSON
1. Updating students' knowledge. Checking homework (Biography of M. Basho)
2. Teacher’s word: In the last lesson we got acquainted with the life and creative path of the Japanese poet M. Basho. You are already familiar with many poets. Each of you perceives their creativity in your own way. And each of you already has, albeit small, your own life experience, and your heart responds to what is close to it. Today we will try to make your hearts respond to the poetry of M. Basho, to what he experienced and wrote about.
You are partially familiar with some of the poetry of Jinishitero (Base). And today we will take a closer look at some of them and determine their features. Let's try to imagine what the poet wanted to tell us about in his works. First, let's remember what haiku is and what are the features of this genre.
WORK ON POETRY
In the process of analyzing poems, students recite the haiku they learned at home. After analyzing each poem, we listen to the students’ comments, their ideas about the pictures described in haiku, and their impressions.
1. On the bank of the Sumida River there is a poor little house. Near it is a pond with banana palm trees growing around it, and behind the hut are reed thickets. Basho lived here for four years.
In the warm spring, the poet was entertained by the singing of tsikat, and one day he overheard how...
Nightingale in summer
In the thicket of young bamboo
Mourns his old age.
2. Lonely hut next to a pond. There is silence everywhere, only occasionally there will be an unexpected splash of water. Against the background of the general silence of nature, it only enhances the feeling of silence.
Old pond!
The frog will jump -
A splash will sound.
3. Under the autumn winds, the crowns of banana palm trees rustled, and raindrops fell into a bucket through the miserable roof of the hut. However, even during the time of heavy rains, students gathered in the teacher’s cramped hut...
Autumn is coming soon...
Hearts come closer
In a cramped hut
4. Against the backdrop of spring, when everything is in bloom, the feeling of loneliness intensifies even more. The poet draws attention to the beggar. What tragedy did he experience, or maybe he is an extraordinary person?..
Throwing a matting over myself -
Who is this man?
Spring is blooming all around.
5. Simple and concise, nothing superfluous, indicative. Just a few important details, assembled by the skillful hand of a master, and the picture of late autumn is complete...
Sat on a high branch
Crows spend the night.
Deep autumn.
6. Imagine how our cherry orchards bloom. Their color makes it brighter at night. Also perceived is the blossoming of sakura - a cherry tree with pink shaggy petals that grows in Japan...
Spring nights
Where have you gone?
When sakura blossomed.
7. Like a skilled hairdresser, a gentle breeze arranges the loose green braids of the willows into their hair...
Spring breeze -
Here and there! Got it in order
Hairstyles of all willows.
8. Frequent rains cause such large puddles that the crane seems short-legged...
During summer showers
Legs in a crane
They became short.
9. Hakone is a chain of high mountains in the center of the island of Honshu. The pass over the Hakone Mountains in winter was considered the most difficult...
But now someone
Overcomes the Hakone Mountains!
Morning with deep snow.
10. In Japan, there is a legend according to which one man, believing the gossip, took his old aunt, who replaced his own mother, to an uninhabited mountain and left her there, but when he saw how the month rose above the mountain, he repented and hurried to bring the old one back home...
Loneliness, no one around except for a month,
An abandoned woman doomed to suffering and death
The works of Matsuo Basho
Basho (1644–1694), real name Jishinchiro Ginzaemo, is a great Japanese poet who played a major role in the development of the poetic genre haiku (haikai, haiku). In Japan, Basho still enjoys enormous prestige; Japanese poets of different generations turn to his work. Basho was close to the Buddhist school of Zen, which had a significant influence on his work.
A banana was planted next to the hut on the outskirts of Edo Furukawa, where the poet lived for a long time ( basho), so the hut was called Banana ( basho-an), hence the poet’s nickname. Basho traveled a lot around the country, drawing strength and inspiration from nature. The image of Basho the Wanderer was captured in Japanese art. Let us recall, for example, the already mentioned famous Watanabe scroll “Spring Landscape”, on which we see the figure of Basho. In addition to numerous tercets, his literary heritage includes haibun(“essay”) and kikobun(“travel diaries”).
Basho entered the cultural history of Japan as a master of tercets. It was he who turned haiku from a simple folk poem, often of a comic nature, into a type of poetic creativity refined in its form, which reflected the philosophical perception of the World.
Tercet haiku occupies a worthy place in world poetry. This is a unique phenomenon of Japanese culture, which has absorbed its unique features and has become the property of world literature. Haiku reflects a special poetic thinking, a special poetic vision. Haiku does not provide a complete description of an event, phenomenon, or object. The main thing in it remains, as it were, unspoken, it is present only as a hint, a symbol. It leaves room for the reader’s thoughts to complete the picture that the author of the tercet creates only with small, light, graceful strokes.
Basho developed poetics haiku, putting forward the basic principles for this genre: fuekiryuko(“variability of the unchangeable”), sabi(“noble sadness”, “patina”), Hosomi("refinement") karumi("ease").
Basho's work testifies to the poet's exceptional love for nature. This reflected his adherence to Zen, but, perhaps, above all, the presence of Shinto is felt here, in which is the basis of the Japanese national religion - Shintoism, built primarily on the cult of Nature and the cult of Beauty. That is why, talking about Nature and the creativity of the artist, Basho told his students - and there were more than two thousand of them - that it was necessary to be natural and constantly turn to nature. He argued that if a person is not able to see the “flower”, that is, beauty, in things, if he does not see the moon, he becomes a barbarian.
Basho's poems are distinguished by their extreme brevity and precision of images, evoking a chain of associations understandable to Japanese readers. Here's his famous haiku about the raven:
On a bare branch
Raven sits alone.
Autumn evening.
This poem, in which the autumn silence and tranquility of nature is so surprisingly accurately conveyed and the tense silhouette of a raven is so visibly seen, had a wide resonance not only in the spiritual life of Japan, but also in Europe, let us remember, for example, the famous “The Raven” by E. Poe.
Sadness is constantly felt in Basho's poems. But this is not the sadness of disappointment and mourning for something lost. This feeling of sadness ( sabi), which is caused by the incomprehensible and unattainable beauty of things - mono no aware(“the sad charm of things”).
This mood and worldview are perfectly felt in another, also well-known haiku Basho:
Winter night in the garden.
With a thin thread - and a month in the sky,
And the sound of the cicadas is barely audible.
In 1687, Basho created his most famous poem, “The Old Pond,” which was included in the collection of poems “Haru-no-hi” (“Spring Days”):
Old pond.
The frog jumped.
Splash of water.
This poem gave rise to numerous comments that occupy more than one volume. In this extremely short work, the poet, perhaps, most fully expressed Avare- “the sad charm of things.” Here it all begins with absolute silence, with a calm, static picture. Then the movement begins - “the frog jumped.” And this movement is accompanied by the sound of splashing water. In other words, here, among the unshakable peace, which is akin to the eternity of the Universe, the presence of the “embryo” of movement is felt. There is another semantic plan here. The Old Pond is Japanese poetry that has absorbed many names and works. A frog that jumps into the water of a pond, causing excitement and a response in it, is a poet. In essence, Basho meant himself, and splash (or “splash” - according to some versions) is a new word that Basho uttered in literature.
Silence, occasionally broken by a single sound, is often present in haiku Basho:
Silence all around.
Penetrates into the heart of the rocks
The light sound of cicadas.
Basho knows how to reveal the meaning through the hidden essence of a bug, a modest flower. with their own haiku he calls on others to be attentive to the beauty of Existence: to be able to see and to be able to hear. Moreover, Basho’s gaze is fixed not only on a small, inconspicuous part of the Universe, but he also sees grandiose pictures of the World.
The sea is raging!
Far away, to Sado Island,
The Milky Way is spreading.
Basho erects one tier above the other, as if resting on the Milky Way. A tercet often contains three perspectives:
On a high embankment there are pine trees,
And between them the cherries are visible, and the palace
In the depths of flowering gardens.
Basho likes to play with symbols: sometimes he haiku is an extended metaphor. Here is the poem he wrote when leaving the hospitable home of his friend:
From the heart of a peony
A bee slowly crawls out...
Oh, with what reluctance!
Here, in the form of a bee, reluctantly crawling out of the core of a beautiful peony, we should see Basho himself. And the poet likens the house of the owner (Master Toyo) to a peony flower. Such symbolism was common among poets of the Basho era.
Speaking about the significance of the work of Matsuo Basho, we will quote here the words of T. P. Grigorieva: “In Basho’s poetry there is something higher that unites different people, that is beyond the boundaries of space and time. There is something about his poetry that makes Basho one of our favorite poets today. And this “something” is a form of humanity that grew out of trust in human nature, in the (Confucian in origin) idea that this nature is inherently good.”
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Congratulation. Japanese and Russian New Year haiku and tanka
Our dear subscribers and guests! Happy New Year 2019! In honor of the holiday, wishes!
May 2018 bathe you in an ocean of positivity and light, bring you a great mood and 365 days filled with happiness! Don’t be afraid to dream and strive for your goals, we wish you the energy to fulfill all your plans!
Let the projects you have started be sure to be implemented, and there will always be time and opportunity to do your favorite things, which are necessary for a new portion of inspiration! May every new day bring dozens and hundreds of reasons to smile and laugh!
Maybe there were difficulties in 2018. Fujiwara Kiyosuke writes about past tests in a soy tank:
Maybe someday
I will also these days
Remember with sadness.
After all, the sorrows of previous years
Now dear to my heart.
We could have achieved the goals set in 2018 and not achieved them.
Jun Hammi about his formation and achievements:
Tree,
which became a zither,
and the tree that did not become a zither,
who is sadder
hear the sound of the sea?
Jun Hammi, 1939
Of course there were happy moments in 2018.
friend's letter -
suddenly in the middle of the ocean
the wind died down
a friend's letter
the wind amidst the ocean -
holding his breath
Sabaka Saseda
Now we are all preparing for the holidays!
the cat would see
like a mistress at the market
smells fish!
Boruko
We, like Issa, are waiting for the coming of the New Year, and together with the arrival of the holiday, we are waiting for the return of those feelings and experiences that gripped us as children on the New Year.
How I want
become little again this morning! -
New Year has come...
(Issa)
When it was easy to think:
What a surprise! -
In the palm of a gnome
Snowflake...
(Oleg Yurov)
This day presents an opportunity for hospitality.
The moon has come out
And every small bush
Invited to the holiday -
And Soma Seyushi says:
Ah New Year!
Dust in the room -
and she is beautiful!
Longevity and wisdom from Fukurozhin! 
Hijikata Toshizo (Japanese: 土方歳三（ひじかたとしぞう）?, May 31, 1835, Tamagun, Musashi Province (now Hino, Tokyo Metropolis) - June 20, 1869, Goryokaku Fortress, Hakodate) - a talented Japanese military figure , second in rank commander of the Shinsengumi, great swordsman, one of the leaders of the traditionalist rebellion against the Meiji Restoration.
lane Olga Chigirinskaya
33
New Year holidays.
I walk along the road and above it
A kite flutters.
***
This is New Year's Day
That he finally came -
Just one more day.
Horo
*
The New Year has arrived;
There is a simple hut,
I have nothing to wish for.
Nanshi
*
New Year:
What I feel
Beyond words.
*
day of light
Begins to shine
From the heads of sardines.
Buson
*
This is good, and that is good too -
New Year
In my old age.
Royto
*
First day of the year:
And I remember
A damp autumn evening.
Basho
*
New Year;
Work table, pieces of paper -
Just like last year.
Matsuo
*
First day of the year;
Through the doors of my shack
Barley field.
Sokha (Shoha)
*
Stream in the fields -
Oh, the sound of flowing water!
New Year.
Raizan
*
I stick my staff in
Into the quagmire
The first sun of the year.
New Year:
What luck! luck!
Pale blue sky!
*
New Year;
There's no hate in me
To those who trampled the snow.
Yayu
*
In my hands is a plum blossom branch
Says congratulations
Happy New Year.
Shiki
*
Smoke
Now creating
The first sky of the year.
*
First dream in the New Year;
I keep it a secret
Smiling to myself.
Translation - E. Kuzmina © When using my translations, a link to the site http://elenakuzmina.blogspot.com/ is required
Friendly company -
three monkeys meet
New Year... ---
(Taneda Santoka / Alexander Dolin)
On a bare tree
crow - here
and the New Year has passed...
(Taneda Santoka / Alexander Dolin)
Japanese songs
New Year's pines,
You are milestones
On the way to the Beyond.
Because you are our joy,
Therefore there is sadness in you (Ikkyu, 15th century)
Balmont lane
The most modest flowers
I bought it for five sen and returned -
I'm spending New Year's Eve
alone at home,
contemplating the bizarre frost...
Shaku Choku Translation by A. Dolina
The poetry of the famous philologist and ethnographer Origuchi Shinobu, better known in literary circles under the pseudonym Shaku Choku (1887–1953), represents a most interesting page in the history of tanka of the 20th century.
Russian haiku
Upside down
One more page.
New Year's snow.
Boris Akunin
The trill of the telephone will not stop,
Something strange is happening!
The girls want a New Year...
***
Today I looked outside the window -
The holiday will be with snow!
Lord, this is a miracle!!!
Based on Internet materials
Warms like haiku
sparkling champagne
on New Year's Eve.
Basho is considered the First Grand Master of Haiku. According to Basho, the process of writing a poem begins with the poet's penetration into the "inner life", into the "soul" of an object or phenomenon, followed by the transmission of this "inner state" in the simple and laconic form of a tercet. Basho associated this skill with the principle-state “sabi” (“sadness of loneliness”, or “enlightened loneliness”), which allows one to see “inner beauty” expressed in simple, even meager forms. This, first of all, meant a special type of whole life - Basho lived modestly and solitarily, had almost no property (although he was of good origin), and traveled a lot. In addition to haiku and renga, he left behind several poetic diaries.
On the day of high tide *The sleeves are soiled with earth."Snail catchers" all day in the fields
They wander and wander without rest.
In the spring, tea leaves are collected. All the leaves are picked by the pickers...
How do they know what is for the tea bushes?
They are like the wind of autumn! Answer to the student *And I am a simple person!
Only the bindweed blooms,
I eat my morning rice. In a hut covered with reeds, like a banana moaning in the wind,
How the drops fall into the tub,
I hear all night long. Leaving my homeland Cloud bank
She lay down between friends... They said goodbye
Migrating geese forever. I’m sad, lonely, in a hut, having buried my friend the monk Dokkan. There’s no one else to beckon!
As if frozen forever
The feather grass does not move. *
Grove on the mountainside.
It's like the mountain has been intercepted
Sword belt.
It's time for the May rains.
It's like the sea is glowing with lights
Night watchmen's lanterns.
Frost covered him,
The wind makes his bed.
An abandoned child.
What is stupider than darkness!
I wanted to catch a firefly -
and ran into a thorn.
Today "the grass of oblivion"
I want to season my rice
Saying goodbye to the old year.
There's such a moon in the sky,
Like a tree cut down to the roots:
The fresh cut turns white.
A yellow leaf floats.
Which shore, cicada,
What if you wake up?
Everything was whitened by the morning snow.
One sign to look at -
Bow arrows in the garden.
How the river overflowed!
A heron wanders on short legs
Knee-deep in water.
Quiet moonlit night...
You can hear it like in the depths of a chestnut tree
The nucleolus is eaten by a worm.
On a bare branch
Raven sits alone.
Autumn evening.
In the darkness of a moonless night
The fox crawls along the ground,
Sneaking towards a ripe melon.
Swarming in the sea grass
Transparent fry... You'll catch them -
They will melt without a trace.
Willow is bent over and sleeping.
And it seems to me that there is a nightingale on a branch
This is her soul.
Top-top is my horse.
I see myself in the picture -
In the expanse of summer meadows.
Poems in memory of the poet SyampuK brought to your grave
Not the proud leaves of the lotus -
A bunch of field grass. In the house of Kavano Shokha, there were stalks of a blooming melon in a cracked vase, a zither lay next to it without strings, drops of water oozed and, falling on the zither, made it sound *Stalks of a blooming melon.
The drops are falling and falling with a ringing sound.
Or are these “flowers of oblivion”?
In my cramped shack
Illuminated all four corners
Moon looking out the window.
A storm-worn hat,
My torn sandals.
Suddenly you will hear “shorkh-shorkh”.
Longing stirs in my soul...
Bamboo on a frosty night.
The oil in the lamp has frozen.
You wake up... What sadness!
Wandering Raven, look!
Where is your old nest?
Plum trees are in bloom everywhere.
Counter mountain dweller
He didn’t open his mouth. Chin length
He gets the grass.
We looked at the moon.
Finally we can breathe! -
A fleeting cloud.
How the autumn wind whistles!
Then only you will understand my poems,
When you spend the night in the field.
And I want to live in autumn
To this butterfly: drinks hastily
There is dew from the chrysanthemum.
The flowers have faded.
The seeds are scattering and falling,
It's like tears...
Gusty leaf
Hid in a bamboo grove
And little by little it calmed down.
But they haven't changed their hearts
The branches of the pine trees are green! In memory of a friend, take a close look!
Shepherd's purse flowers
You will see under the fence. I look out the window after illness of the Kannon Temple there, in the distance,
The tile roof turns red
In clouds of cherry blossoms.
They fly to the ground
Returning to old roots.
Separation of flowers!
Old Pond
A frog jumped into the water.
A splash in silence.
Oh, wake up, wake up!
Become my comrade.
Sleeping moth!
Everywhere the same trouble
The wind is still cold. I walk around the pond. Autumn Moon Festival.
Around the pond, and around again,
All night long all around! A jug for storing grain That's all I'm rich with!
Easy as if my life
Gourd pumpkin.
This overgrown grass
Only you remained faithful to the hut,
Winter colza peddler.
The first snow is in the morning.
He barely bent down
Narcissus leaves.
The water is so cold!
The seagull can't sleep
Rocking on the wave.
The jug burst with a crash:
At night the water in it froze.
I woke up suddenly.
New Year's market in the city.
And I would like to visit it at least once!
Buy smoking sticks.
Hey shepherd boys!
Leave some branches to the plum tree,
Cutting the whips.
Moon or morning snow...
Admiring the beauty, I lived as I wanted.
This is how I end the year.
Hidden invisibly in the thicket
Plum color!
Sea kale is lighter...
And the old merchant carries it on his shoulder
Baskets of heavy oysters.
Clouds of cherry blossoms!
The ringing of the bell reached...
From Ueno or Asakusa? *
In the cup of a flower
The bumblebee is dozing. Don't touch him
Sparrow friend!
Stork nest in the wind.
And underneath - beyond the storm
Cherry is a calm color.
Long day long
Sings - and doesn’t get drunk
Lark in spring.
How sad it will be for me to watch
To the neighbor's empty house.
Over the expanse of fields -
Not tied to the ground
The lark is ringing.
It's raining in May. *
Did the rim on the barrel burst somewhere?
The sound is unclear at night...
Near the house where the owner is gone,
The cold poured over me.
Let's go, friends, let's take a look
On floating duck nests
In the flood of May rains!
Sounds loudly
Lonely Hut Pillar
Woodpecker.
Today is a clear day.
But where do the drops come from?
There is a patch of clouds in the sky.
I broke off a branch or something
The wind running through the pines?
How cool is the splash of water!
Pure spring!
Up ran up my leg
Little crab.
Next to the blooming bindweed
A thresher is resting in the heat.
How sad it is, our world!
In a friend's deserted garden
He grew melons here.
And now the old garden has died out...
I wish I could fall asleep on these river stones,
Overgrown with carnations... In praise of the poet Rika, as if he took it in his hands
Lightning when in the dark
You lit a candle.
How fast the moon flies!
On motionless branches
Drops of rain hung.
For the night, at least for one night,
O flowering hagi bushes,
Adopt a stray dog!
Steps important
Heron on fresh stubble.
Autumn in the village.
Left for a moment
Farmer threshing rice
Looks at the moon.
Withered sweet potato leaves
On a dry field. Moonrise
The peasants can't wait.
They rise from the ground again,
Fading in the darkness, chrysanthemums,
Nailed by heavy rain.
She completely lay down on the ground,
But it will inevitably bloom
Sick chrysanthemum.
The clouds swelled with rain
Just above the ridge of the foothills.
Fuji - turns white in the snow.
My companion fell off his horse,
Drunk from wine.
The winter crop sprouts have sprouted.
A glorious shelter for a hermit -
A village among fields.
In the haze of May rains
Only one doesn't drown
Bridge over the Seta River. *
Pray for happy days!
On a winter plum tree
Be like your heart.
Drying a towel on the fire...
The winter cold is on its way. At home they are sniffling...
Dear country sound!
Plum trees are blooming.
In a glass of wine,
Swallows, don't drop me
Clay lump.
Under the canopy of cherry blossoms
I'm like the hero of an old drama,
At night I lay down to sleep.
The cherries are in full bloom!
And the dawn is the same as always,
There, above the distant mountain...
Mountain cherries... And they draw with fire
Along them there are fireflies above the river.
There once was a castle here...
Let me be the first to tell you about it
A spring flowing in an old well.
The bell will also buzz in response...
That's how the cicadas call.
How the grass thickens in summer!
And only one-sheet
One single leaf.
Like a fragile young man
O flowers forgotten in the fields,
You are wasting away in vain.
Something became sad... They float
There are lights on the fishing boats. In praise of the new house The house was a great success!
Sparrows in the backyard
They happily peck at the millet.
All bindweeds look the same.
What about gourd pumpkins in the fall?
No two are alike!
Autumn is not far away.
Field of ears and sea
One green color.
Oh no, ready
I won't find any comparisons for you,
Three day month!
Hanging motionless
Dark cloud in half the sky.
Apparently he's waiting for lightning.
Oh, how many of them there are in the fields!
But everyone blooms in their own way, -
This is the highest feat of a flower!
I wrapped my life around
Around the suspension bridge
This wild ivy.
An old woman abandoned in the mountains is crying,
And only a month is her friend.
Then he said “goodbye” to others,
Then they said goodbye to me... And at the end of the road
Autumn in the Kiso Mountains. *
A chestnut rolled off a branch.
To those who have never been to distant mountains,
I'll take it as a gift.
Only some poems!
That's all that is in "Banana Shelter"
Spring has brought Porto.
In my solitude!
The first leaf fell...
The house ran out of rice...
I'll put it in a grain pumpkin
"Female beauty" flower.
Still standing here and there
Uncompressed ears are islands.
The snipe screams in alarm.
And icy, black
Winter night... Oh, sadness! On the day of cleansing from sins, a fresh breeze blew,
A fish jumped out with a splash...
Bathing in the river. *
Winter days alone.
I'll lean my back again
To the pillar in the middle of the hut.
There's a fire in the depths of the ash
Will go out from these tears. Letter to the North Remember how together with you
Have we looked at the snow?.. And this year
It must have fallen out again.
Reeds cut for the roof.
On forgotten stems
Fine snow is falling.
my paper dress
The cobwebs, swaying, grow. I’m giving up my house for the summer and you as guests
I found my hut in the spring:
You will become a house of dolls.
Spring is leaving.
The birds are crying. Fish eyes
Full of tears.
The sun is setting.
And cobwebs too
Melting in the darkness...
The evening bell rings -
And here, in the wilderness, you won’t hear it.
Spring twilight.
On green, young foliage
Sunlight is pouring.
Here it is - my guiding sign!
Among the tall meadow grasses
A man with an armful of hay.
Garden and mountain in the distance
Trembling, moving, entering
In a summer open house.
Only joy in the summer -
Cuckoo cry.
Driver! Lead your horse
Over there, across the field!
There's a cuckoo singing.
The grass all around turned red.
Even the dew is on fire. Wind at Old Shirakawa Outpost *West wind? Oriental?
No, I’ll listen to the noise first
Wind over a rice field. On the way to the north I listen to the songs of peasants. This is the source, this is the beginning.
All poetic art!
Song of planting rice.
May rains
The waterfall was buried
They filled it with water.
Islands... Islands...
And it breaks into hundreds of fragments
Sea of a summer day.
On the old battlefield
Summer herbs
Where the heroes disappeared
Like a dream. What bliss!
Cool field of green rice.
The water is murmuring...
Silence all around.
Penetrates into the heart of the rocks
The light sound of cicadas.
What a speed!
Mogami River collected *
All the May rains.
Three day month
Above the Black Wing Peak
It's cool.
The heat of a sunny day
The Mogami River carried away
Into the depths of the sea.
"Tide Gate"
Washes the heron up to its chest
Cool sea.
First melon, friends!
Shall we divide it into four parts?
Shall we cut it into circles?
Small perches are dried
On the branches of a willow... How cool!
Fishing huts on the shore.
Wooden pestle.
Was he once a plum?
Was it a camellia?
Even the night before is so different
For an ordinary night.
The sea is raging!
Far away, to Sado Island, *
The Milky Way is spreading.
Two girls... Hagi branches in bloom
And a lonely month.
What does ripening rice smell like?
I was walking across a field, and suddenly
To the right is Ariso Bay. *
Autumn wind in the field -
My lonely moan.
Red-red sun
In the deserted distance... But it’s chilling
The merciless autumn wind.
Leaning towards the pine trees in the wind
Bushes and autumn herbs.
Berries are falling from the branches...
A flock of starlings fluttered noisily.
Morning wind.
Musashi Plain around. *
Not a single cloud will touch
Your traveling hat.
But this traveler is worthy of song too,
Not only hagi is in bloom. To a father who has lost his son With his head hanging to the ground, -
It’s as if the whole world has been turned upside down, -
Bamboo crushed by snow. Sanemori's helmet *Oh, merciless rock!
Under this glorious helmet
Now the cricket is ringing.
Whiter than white rocks *
On the slopes of Stone Mountain
This autumn whirlwind!
I wanted to write on the fan, -
It broke in my hand. In Tsuruga Bay, where the bell once sank. Where are you, moon, now?
Like a sunken bell
She disappeared to the bottom of the sea.
The wave receded for a moment.
Among the small shells they turn pink
Fallen hagi petals.
Never a butterfly
He won't... He's trembling in vain
Worm in the autumn wind.
She doesn't need moonlight...
Ibuki Mountain. On the shores of Futami Bay, where the poet Saige lived. Maybe he once served
Is this stone an ink maker?
The hole in it is full of dew.
I'm alone in the house in the fall.
Well, I'll pick berries
Collect fruits from branches.
Cold rain without end.
This is how the chilled monkey looks,
As if asking for a straw cloak.
How long will it take
It's raining! On a bare field
The stubble turned black.
Winter night in the garden.
With a thin thread - and a month in the sky,
And the cicadas make a barely audible sound.
About previous service at court...
There is deep snow all around. I play with the children in the mountains. Children, who is the fastest?
We'll catch up with the balls
Ice grains.
Snow hare - as if alive!
But one thing remains, children:
Let's make him a mustache.
Tell me why
O raven, to the noisy city
Where are you flying from?
Thaw in the snow,
And in it - light purple
Asparagus stalk.
Spring rains are pouring.
How Chernobyl reaches up
On this dead path!
Sparrows over the window
They squeak and they respond
Mice in the attic.
The bonite seller is coming.
How rich are they today?
Will they help you get drunk with wine?
How tender are the young leaves?
Even here, on the weeds,
At a forgotten house.
Camellia petals...
Maybe the nightingale dropped
A hat made of flowers?
Spring rain...
They've already released two sheets of paper.
Eggplant seeds.
Over the old river
Filled with young buds
Willows on the shore.
Ivy leaves...
For some reason their smoky purple
He talks about the past.
And he doesn’t wait for them, he drinks,
Lonely, wine. Celebrating the New Year in the capital. Spring Festival...
But who is he, covered with matting?
A beggar in the crowd? *
Mossy gravestone.
Under it - is it in reality or in a dream?
A voice whispers prayers.
Everything is falling apart dragonfly...
Can't get a hold of it
For stalks of flexible grass.
Don't think with contempt:
“What small seeds!”
It's red pepper.
On a high embankment there are pine trees,
And between them the cherries and the palace are visible
In the depths of flowering trees...
First I left the grass,
Then he left the trees.
Lark flight.
The bell fell silent in the distance,
But the scent of evening flowers
Its echo floats.
The cobwebs tremble a little.
Thin threads of saiko grass
They flutter in the twilight.
On four sides
Cherry petals are flying
To Lake Nio. *
The spring night has passed.
The white dawn turned around
A sea of cherry blossoms.
The lark sings.
With a resounding blow in the thicket
The pheasant echoes him.
Dropping petals
Suddenly spilled a handful of water
Camellia flower.
The stream is barely noticeable.
Swimming through a thicket of bamboo
Camellia petals.
What a connoisseur's quirk!
For a flower without fragrance
The moth descended.
The May rain is endless.
The mallows are reaching somewhere,
Looking for the path of the sun.
Cold mountain spring.
I didn’t have time to scoop up a handful of water,
How my teeth are already creaking.
Falls with a leaf...
No, look! Halfway there
The firefly flew up.
But the boatman is unreliable: he is drunk
And the boat is carried away by the waves...
How brightly the fireflies burn,
Resting on tree branches!
Roadside overnight of flowers!
And who could say
Why should they live so short?
The incessant sound of cicadas.
In my old house
Mosquitoes hardly bite.
That's all the treat for a friend!
Morning hour
Or evening - you don't care
Melon flowers!
Both flowers and fruits!
Melon is rich for everyone at once
At its best.
Fisherman's hut.
Mixed up in a pile of shrimp
Lonely cricket. *
Who does not say at the flash of lightning:
"This is our life!"
White hair fell.
Under my headboard
The cricket does not stop talking.
Sick goose dropped
On a field on a cold night.
A lonely dream on the way.
Transparent autumn night.
Far away, to the Seven Stars,
The sound of rollers can be heard.
"First the monkey's robe!" -
Asks the laundress to beat it out with a roller
Chilled guide.
They scare them and drive them out of the fields!
The sparrows will fly up and hide
Under the protection of tea bushes.
It's already the end of autumn,
But he believes in future days
Green tangerine.
I'm sad too
Deaf in autumn.
Even a wild boar
Will spin you around and take you with you
This winter field whirlwind!
I eat my stew alone.
Like someone playing a zither -
The hail knocks on the fence.
So, heart of wanderings, and for you
There is no peace anywhere.
The cold set in on the way.
At the scarecrow's place, perhaps?
Should I borrow some sleeves?
Dried this mackerel
And the poor monk, exhausted,
In the cold on a winter day.
All long night
It seemed to me that the bamboo was getting cold.
The morning arose in the snow.
Sea kale stems.
The sand creaked on my teeth. *
And I remembered that I was getting old.
Mandzai arrived late *
To a mountain village.
The plum trees have already bloomed.
Where does the cuckoo cry come from?
Through a thicket of thick bamboo
The moonlit night oozes.
He eats one barley porridge...
And also love!
Night. Bottomless darkness.
That's right, I lost my nest
A sandpiper is moaning somewhere.
Why so lazy all of a sudden?
They barely woke me up today.
The spring rain is noisy.
sad me
Give me more sadness,
Cuckoos distant call!
I clapped my hands loudly.
And where the echo sounded,
The summer moon is growing pale.
I found an old drawing
Bamboo shoots.
May annoying rain -
Scraps of colored paper
On a dilapidated wall.
Every day, every day
The ears are getting yellower.
The larks are singing.
secluded house
In rural silence... Even a woodpecker
There is no knocking on this door!
It's drizzling endlessly.
Only the hollyhocks shine, as if
Above them is a cloudless day.
Risu, I invited him
To visit the moon itself.
Light river breeze.
The tea is good! And the wine is good!
And the moonlit night is good!
A whiff of deep antiquity...
Garden near the temple
Covered with fallen leaves.
Floated out - and in the cloud
The moon thought.
Unlock the door!
Let the moonlight in
To the Ukimido Temple! *
The rafters of the bridge are overgrown
“Sadness is grass”... Today she
Says goodbye to the full moon. *
Quails are calling.
It must be evening.
The hawk's eye went dark.
Together with the owner of the house
I listen in silence to the evening bells.
Willow leaves are falling.
White fungus in the forest.
Some unknown leaf
It stuck to his hat.
What sadness!
Suspended in a small cage
Captive cricket. *
They cook noodles for dinner.
How the fire burns under the pot
On this cold night!
Night silence.
Only behind the picture on the wall
The cricket is ringing and ringing.
That's right, this cicada
Are you all drunk?
One shell remains.
The leaves have fallen.
The whole world is one color.
Only the wind hums.
Dewdrops sparkle.
But they have a taste of sadness,
Don't forget!
They planted trees in the garden.
Quietly, quietly, to encourage them,
Autumn rain whispers.
So that the cold whirlwind
Give them the aroma, they open up again
Late autumn flowers.
Rocks among cryptomeria!
How I sharpened their teeth
Winter cold wind!
And the white screen is thrown
Reflections of whiteness.
The falcon rushed upward.
But the hunter holds him tightly
Ice grains are falling.
Everyone has anticipation on their faces...
Suddenly winter lightning shines!
The sprouts are turning green again
In the autumn fields. In the morning
Frost is like flowers.
Everything was covered with snow.
Lonely old woman
In a forest hut.
We survived under the snow,
Dry reed stalks.
Salted sea bass
They hang there, baring their teeth.
How cold it is in this fish shop!
"There is no rest from children!"
For such people, probably
And cherry blossoms are not cute.
There is a special charm
In these, crumpled by a storm,
Broken chrysanthemums.
Or a demon grabbed my head
In the shadow of Rashomon Gate? Monk Senka mourns his fatherDark mouse color
The sleeves of his cassock
Even colder from tears.
Ugly Raven -
And it's beautiful in the first snow
On a winter morning!
Cryptomeria apex trembles
A storm has arrived. On New Year's Eve for fish and birds
I don't envy you anymore... I'll forget
All the sorrows of the year.
Cats in love
They fell silent. Looking into the bedroom
Misty moon.
Invisible spring!
On the back of the mirror
Plum blossom pattern.
Nightingales are singing everywhere.
There - behind the bamboo grove,
Here - in front of the river willow.
Land of Kiso. Pierced the old snow
Spring shoots.
From branch to branch
The drops are quietly running down...
Spring rain.
Through the hedge
How many times have you fluttered
Butterfly wings!
Like a spring breeze
Settled in a green sprout.
All the excitement, all the sadness
Of your troubled heart
Give it to the flexible willow.
Just the breeze blows
From branch to branch of willow
The butterfly will flutter.
How enviable is their fate!
North of the bustling world *
Cherry blossoms bloomed in the mountains.
Are you also one of those
Whoever does not sleep is intoxicated by flowers,
About mice in the attic?
The rain in the mulberry grove is noisy.
On the ground he barely moves
Sick silkworm.
Still on the cutting edge
The sun is burning out above the roof.
The evening chill blows.
She closed her mouth tightly
Sea shell.
Unbearable heat!
Chrysanthemums in the fields
They already say: forget it
Hot days of carnations!
The moon hung on the poles
In a new hut.
By the light of the new moon
The earth is drowning in twilight.
White buckwheat fields.
In the moonlight
Moving towards the gate
Tide crest.
I'll say the word -
Lips freeze.
Autumn whirlwind!
You are green as before
I could have stayed... But no! Came
It's your time, scarlet pepper.
They are getting along with the winter hearth.
How old my familiar stove maker has aged!
Strands of hair turned white.
Understand what it means to be an old man!
Autumn drizzle, fog...Winter day *Chop beans for dinner.
Suddenly there was a knock on the copper cup.
Poor monk, wait!..
The coals turned to ash.
A shadow sways on the wall
My interlocutor.
Year after year everything is the same:
Monkey amuses the crowd
In a monkey mask. *
Sounds so sad... Even sadder
Violets on the grave hill. Seeing off monk Sangin on his way. The crane flew away.
The black feather dress has disappeared *
In a haze of flowers.
Rain comes after rain,
And the heart is no longer disturbed
Sprouts in rice fields.
The birds will be amazed
If this lute sounds.
The petals will dance...
Hey, listen up, kids!
The daytime bindweeds have already bloomed.
Come on, let's peel the melon!
Two stars separated by a river,
They sleep alone on the rocks. I mourn the death of the poet Matsukura Ranrapa. Where are you, my support?
My staff is made of strong mulberry
The autumn wind broke. I visit Ranrap's grave on the third day of the ninth month. You saw him too,
This narrow sickle... And now it shines
Above your grave mound.
Morning bindweed.
I locked the gate in the morning,
My last friend!
White dew drops
Without spilling, it sways
Hagi autumn bush.
Bright moon... Stayed
Table with four corners.
First fungus!
Still, autumn dew,
He didn't consider you.
How chrysanthemums bloomed
In the mason's yard
Among the scattered stones!
Cockscombs.
They're even redder
With the arrival of the cranes.
And you don’t even have sadness,
"Birds of forty years" - magpies, *
What old age reminded me of!
Carrying a dead duck
The seller shouts out his product.
Ebisuko Festival. *
From distant fields at the foothills,
Covered by the first ice!
Not a single drop of dew
They won't drop...
Ice on chrysanthemums.
Rice husk
Everything is crumbled: the edges of the mortars,
White chrysanthemums...
Boy perched
On the saddle, and the horse is waiting.
Collect radishes.
On gilded screens.
Winter within four walls. Before the New Year, the Duck huddled to the ground.
Covered up with a feather dress
Their bare legs...New bridge Everyone runs to see...
The sound of wooden soles knocking
On the frosty boards of the bridge!
Sweep away the soot.
For myself this time
The carpenter gets along well.
How sad is the fate of your masters!
The twilight of the year is approaching.
Acrid radish...
And stern, masculine
Conversation with a samurai.
Oh, spring rain!
Streams run from the roof
Along the wasp nests.
Under the open umbrella
I make my way through the branches.
Willows in the first down.
From the sky of its peaks
Only river willows
It's still raining.
Green willow drops
The ends of the branches are in the muddy mud.
Evening low tide.
I would like to create poetry,
Not like my old face,
Oh, the first cherry blossoms!
I'm floating to the cherry blossoms.
But the oar froze in his hands:
Willows on the shore!
The bee hid deep
In the petals of a peony.
A hillock right next to the road.
To replace the faded rainbow
Azaleas in the sunset light.
Lightning in the darkness of the night.
Lake water surface
Suddenly it burst into sparks.
The waves are running across the lake.
Some people regret the heat
Sunset clouds.
I grab the light ear.
The moment of separation has arrived.
On the way to Suruga *
The aroma of blossoming oranges,
The smell of tea leaves...
The horse is heading to the city... He's trotting home, -
A barrel of wine on the back.
Drive from the dark sky,
O mighty river Oi, *
May clouds!
Look, what's the point of such similarities?
Two halves of melon.
My whole life is on the way!
Like digging up a small field,
I wander back and forth.
What freshness it blows
From this melon in drops of dew,
With sticky wet soil!
Hot summer is in full swing!
How the clouds swirl
On Thunder Mountain!
The image of the coolest
Brush paints bamboo
In the groves of the village of Saga. *
"Transparent waterfall"…
Fell into a light wave
Pine needle.
The actor's eyes look there
Where the lotus is fragrant. At a gathering of poets Autumn is already on the doorstep.
Heart reaches out to heart
The hut is cramped.
What a glorious chill!
Heels against the wall
And I doze off in the middle of the day.
As if suddenly on his face
The feather grass swayed. They visit family graves. The whole family wandered to the cemetery.
They walk, white with gray hairs,
Leaning on the staffs. Hearing about the death of the nun Jutei *Oh, don’t think that you are one of those
Who has no price in the world!
Remembrance Day... Back in my native village. How the faces have changed!
I read my old age on them.
All are like winter melons.
Old village.
The branches are dotted with red persimmons
Near every house.
Deceived by moonlight
I thought: cherry blossom!
No, it's a cotton field.
Moon over the mountain.
Fog at the foot.
The fields are smoking.
What do people feed on there?
The house pressed to the ground
Under the autumn willows.
Hanging in the sun
Cloud... Across it -
Migratory birds.
The end of autumn days.
Already throwing up his hands
Chestnut shell.
The buckwheat has not ripened
But they treat you to a field of flowers
Guest in a mountain village.
Just started drying
Straw of the new harvest... How early
It's raining this year!
The scent of chrysanthemums...
In the temples of ancient Nara *
Dark buddha statues.
Autumn darkness
Broken and driven away
Conversation of friends.
Oh, it's a long way!
The autumn twilight is thickening,
And - not a soul around.
Why am I so strong
Did you sense old age this fall?
Clouds and birds.
Not a single speck of dust
On the whiteness of chrysanthemums.
It's late autumn.
Alone I think:
“How does my neighbor live?”
And everything runs and circles my dream
Through scorched fields.
POEMS FROM THE TRAVEL DIARY "BONES WHITENING IN THE FIELD"
Hitting the road Maybe my bonesThe wind will whiten... It's in the heart
It breathed cold on me.
You are sad listening to the cry of monkeys!
Do you know how a child cries?
Abandoned in the autumn wind?
I fell asleep on the horse.
Through my drowsiness I see the distant month.
Somewhere there is early smoke.
Moonless night. Darkness.
With cryptomeria millennial
The whirlwind grabbed him in an embrace.
If it were Saige instead of me,
They would write a song in response to him.
The ivy leaves are trembling.
In a small bamboo grove
The first storm murmurs.
It will melt - my tears are so hot!
Autumn frost of hair. In the garden of the old monastery You stand indestructible, pine tree!
And how many monks have survived here?
How many bindweeds have bloomed... Overnight in a mountain temple Oh, let me listen again,
How sadly the roller knocks in the dark, *
The wife of the rector of the temple!
On a forgotten burial mound
"Sadness-grass" has grown... What is it about?
Are you sad, grass?
Dead in the autumn wind
Fields and groves. Disappeared
And you, Fuwa outpost! *
White peony in winter!
Somewhere a sea plover is calling
This cuckoo of the snows.
At the pale morning dawn
Fry - no longer than an inch -
They turn white on the shore.
Withered here. Go to a tavern?
Should I buy a flatbread? I couldn’t help but remember the master of “crazy poems” Chikusai, who wandered along this road in the old days * “Crazy Poems”... Autumn whirlwind...
Oh, how I am now in my rags
Looks like Chikusai a beggar!
Hey, listen, merchant!
If you want, I'll sell you a hat,
This hat in the snow?
Even on the rider's horse
If you look around, the road is so deserted,
And the morning is so snowy!
Dusk over the sea.
Only the cries of wild ducks
They turn vaguely white.
The old year is ending,
And I'm wearing a traveling hat
And sandals on my feet.
Spring morning.
Over every nameless hill
Transparent haze.
I pray in church all night.
The sound of shoes... It's past
The ice monk is coming.
But where are your cranes, sorcerer?
They were probably stolen yesterday? I’m visiting a hermit, standing majestically,
Without noticing the cherry blossoms,
Lonely oak.
Let my dress get wet,
O Fushimi peach blossoms, *
Pour, pour raindrops!
I'm walking along a mountain path.
Suddenly I felt at ease for some reason.
Violets in the thick grass.
Vaguely swirling in the darkness
Larch branches, foggy
Cherries in full bloom.
And nearby there is crumbling dry cod
A woman in their shadow.
This is what a sparrow looks like
It’s like he’s admiring it too
A field of colza in bloom.
And between us - alive -
Cherry blossom branches.
Come on, let's go! You and I
We'll eat ears of corn along the way,
Sleeping on green grass.
I look at the colza flowers -
And the tears run and run. I part with the student. A moth flaps its wings.
White poppy wants them
Leave as a parting gift. Leaving a hospitable home From the core of a peony
The bee slowly crawls out.
Oh, with what reluctance!
young horse
He happily plucks the ears of corn.
Rest on the way.
POEMS FROM A TRAVEL DIARY
"LETTERS OF A WANDERING POET" *
To the capital - there, in the distance -
Half the sky remains...
Snow clouds. On the eleventh day of the tenth month I set off on a long journey, Wanderer! This is the word
Will become my name.
Long autumn rain...
The sun of a winter day.
My shadow freezes
On the horse's back.
"Oh, look, look,
How dark it is on Cape Stars!"
Seagulls moan over the sea.
Irakozaki coast.
Here, in the deserted distance,
I'm glad to see Kite.
How much snow fell!
But somewhere people are walking
Through the Hakone Mountains. *
Lured me to the fence
This new pantry.
I will smooth out all the wrinkles on it!
I'm going to visit - admire the snow
In this old paper dress.
Why are people fussing...
They sweep away the soot in the houses.
Well, hurry up, friends!
Let's go wander through the first snow,
Until we fall off our feet.
She's only nine days old
But both fields and mountains know:
Spring has come again.
Pieces of last year's grass...
Short, no longer than an inch,
The first cobwebs.
I see the image of Buddha again
At the empty foothills. In the garden of the late poet Sengin *So many memories
You awakened in my soul,
O cherries of the old garden! I visit Ise temples *Where, what tree are they on,
These flowers - I don’t know
But the aroma wafted... Having met with a local scientist... But first of all I’ll ask:
What is the name in the local dialect?
Is this reed young? I meet two poets: father and son grow from a single root
Both old and young plum.
Both pour out aroma. I visit a poor hut. A sweet potato is planted in the yard.
They drowned it out, grew at the gate
Young shoots of grass.
Let's go! I'll show you
How cherry blossoms bloom in distant Yoshino
My old hat.
I've barely gotten better
Exhausted, until the night...
And suddenly - wisteria flowers!
Soaring larks above
I sat down in the sky to rest -
On the very ridge of the pass.
To those who love good wine,
I'll take the branch as a gift.
Only for connoisseurs of fine wines
I'll tell you how the waterfall flows
In the foam of cherry blossoms.
They flew around with a rustle
Mountain rose petals...
The distant sound of a waterfall.
Comes to life again in the heart
Longing for mother, for father.
The cry of a lonely pheasant! *
The past spring
In the distant harbor of Vaca *
I finally caught up.
He was born
Little deer. Parting in Nara with an old friend Like branches of a deer antler
They diverge from a single butt,
So we part with you. I visit a friend’s house in Osaka, in the garden where the irises have opened,
Conducting a conversation with an old friend -
What a reward for the traveler! I did not see the autumn full moon on the shore of Suma. The moon is shining, but not the same one.
As if I didn’t find the owner...
Summer on the banks of Suma.
I saw it first
In the rays of dawn the face of a fisherman,
And then - a blooming poppy.
Fishermen scare the crows.
Under the aimed arrowhead
Cuckoo alarm cry.
Where it flies
The pre-dawn cry of the cuckoo,
What's there? Distant island.
I hear the flute playing by itself
In the dark thicket of trees.
He sees a dream - so short! -
Under the summer moon.More from Basho
(translation by A. Dolina) Oh dragonfly!
With what difficulty on a blade of grass
You've settled down!
First winter rain.
The monkey doesn't mind either
Put on a straw raincoat...
How heavy the first snow is!
They sank and sadly drooped
Daffodil leaves...
Even the gray crow
This morning suits you -
Look how prettier you have become!
Sings by the hearth
So selflessly
Familiar cricket!...
On a cold night
It will lend me rags,
Scarecrow in the field.
Oh dragonfly!
With what difficulty on a blade of grass
You've settled down!
I planted a banana -
And now they have become disgusting to me
Sprouts of weeds...
First winter rain.
The monkey doesn't mind either
Put on a straw raincoat...
How heavy the first snow is!
They sank and sadly drooped
Daffodil leaves...
