MAINGALLERYGUEST-BOOKRussian


 

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How admirable!
to see lightning and not think
life is fleeting.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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Even at home,
how I long for home
when the cuckoo sings.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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What fish feel,
birds feel, I don't know -
the year ending.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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A weathered skeleton
in windy fields of memory,
piercing like a knife.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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No one travels!
Along this way but I,!
This autumn evening.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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Another year is gone –
A travel hat on my head,
Straw sandals on my feet.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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In this world of ours,
We eat only to cast out,
Sleep only to wake,
And what comes after all that
Is simply to die at last.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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All along this road
not a single soul – only
autumn evening comes.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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Every day is a journey,
and the journey itself
is home.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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This autumn
Why am I aging so?
Flying towards the clouds or birds.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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At the ancient pond
a frog plunges into
the sound of water.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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The temple bell stops
but I still hear the sound
coming out of the flowers.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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Your song caresses
the depth of  loneliness,
O high mountain bird.

Matsuo Basho (Japan, 1644 -1694)

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