Kobayashi Issa Quotes

In the cherry blossom's shade there's no such thing as a stranger.

Giddy grasshopper Take care...do not leap and crush These pearls of dewdrop

What a strange thing! to be alive beneath cherry blossoms.

Carrying a poppy he passes through the quarrel.

Reflected in the dragonfly's eye -- mountains.

In spring rain a pretty girl yawning.

Don't worry, spiders, I keep house casually.

O snail Climb Mount Fuji But slowly, slowly!

Summer night-- even the stars are whispering to each other.

Listen, all creeping things, the bell of transience.

Arise from sleep, old cat, And with great yawns and stretchings... Amble out for love

Here I'm here- the snow falling.

In the city fields Contemplating cherry-trees... Strangers are like friends

In this world we walk on the roof of hell gazing at flowers

The world of dew is the world of dew. And yet, and yet--

Red morning sky - snail, are you glad of it?

There is no stranger under the cherry tree.

All the time I pray to Buddha I keep on killing mosquitoes.

Even in warmest glow how cold my shadow

before the gate -- my walking stick's made a river of melting snow

Don't kill!... The fly is asking you To save his life By rubbing his hands together

Moon, plum blossoms, this, that, and the day goes

Where there are humans, You'll find flies, And Buddhas.

Dry creek glimpsed by lightning

Take a nap Making the mountain water Pound the rice.

To the fuki plant, dandelions, and their kind that lie for long patiently under the fallen snow, comes the season of breezy spring. No sooner do they see the light of the world, stretching their longing heads out from the cracks in the snow, than they are instantly nipped off. For these plants isn't the sorrow as deep as that of the child's parents whose child had accidentally died? They say everything in the plant and tree kingdom attains Buddhahood. Then they, too, must have Buddha-nature.

Don't weep, insects -- Lovers, stars themselves, Must part.

Not gifted with genius but honestly holding his experiences deep in his heart, he kept his simplicity and humanity.

On the Death of his Child Dew Evaporates And all our world is dew...so dear, So fresh, so fleeting

Even with insects - some can sing, some can't.

Face of the spring moon- about twelve years old, I'd say.