Basho
Summer grasses:
all that remains of great soldiers’
imperial dreamsTraveling this high
mountain trail, delightedby violetsThe old pond,
A frog jumps in:
Plop!
Issa
A world of dew,
and within every dewdrop
a world of struggleCherry blossom shadeSpring breeze–
no one an utter
stranger
a mouse licking up
Sumida River
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A NIGHT MOORING NEAR MAPLE BRIDGE
While I watch the moon go down, a crow caws through the frost;
Under the shadows of the maple-trees a fisherman moves with his torch;
And I hear, from beyond Su-chou, from the temple on Cold Mountain,
Ringing for me, here in my boat, the midnight bell.
-Chang Chi (Witter Bynner trans.)
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