in the east.
Translated by Robert Hass
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Evening wind:
the heron’s legs.Translated by Robert Hass
The old man
bent like a sickle.Translated by Robert Hass
Below are eleven Buson haiku
‘The short night–‘The short night–on the hairy caterpillarbeads of dew.The short night–patrolmenwashing in the river.The short night–bubbles of crab frothamong the river reeds.The short night–a broom thrown awayon the beach.The short night–the Oi Riverhas sunk two feet.The short night–on the outskirts of the villagea small shop opening.The short night–broken, in the shallows,a crescent moon.The short…
They end their flight
crows at dusk.Translated by Robert Hass
You left in the morning, at evening my heart is in a
Why is it so far away?Thinking of you, I go up on the hill and wander.Around the hill, why is it such a sadness?Dandelions yellow and shepherds-purse blooming white —not anyone to look at them.I hear a pheasant, calling and calling fervently.Once a friend was there across the river, living.Ghostly smoke rises and fades away…
White blossoms of the pear
reading a letter.Translated by Robert Hass