Washing the hoe
Washing the hoe--
ripples on the water;
far off, wild ducks.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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My arm for a pillow
My arm for a pillow,
I really like myself
under the hazy moon.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Before the white chrysanthemum
Before the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate
a moment.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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He's on the porch
He's on the porch,
to escape the wife and kids--
how hot it is!
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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The spring sea rising
The spring sea rising
and falling, rising
and falling all day.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Dawn
Dawn--
fish the cormorants haven't caught
swimming in the shallows.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Not quite dark yet
Not quite dark yet
and the stars shining
above the withered fields.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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The willow leaves fallen
The willow leaves fallen,
the spring gone dry,
rocks here and there.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Ploughing the land
Ploughing the land--
not even a bird singing
in the mountain's shadow.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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The behavior of the pigeon
The behavior of the pigeon
is beyond reproach,
but the mountain cuckoo?
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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