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Sonnets Rubai Tanka Gazel



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Japanese Haiku



The first part of spring 
wading in the water, there, 
a single heron.
Flashes of lightning 
in the ntervals between 
the fireworksnow !


A white peony 
it is calledbut even so, 
a faint redness. 

An autumn sky, and 
under it wild camomile flowers 
with some petals gone. 

Over a ruined temple 
where I had hoped to live 
the moon is seen now. 

One paulownia leaf 
full of the rays of the sun 
has fallen down. 

On distant mountains 
the shining of the sun 
Oh, withered fields! 

Into the vast sky 
stretching up at a slant, 
winter trees.

With the pine-tree wind 
go scooting and bustling about, 
water spiders. 

Flowing on by, 
the leaves of radishes. 
What swiftness! 

A butterfly's 
noises while eating something 
such quietness. 

A dewy tree trunk. 
Without a sound a locust 
walking along. 

The twilight darkness, 
even in the floating duckweed, 
how deep it is.


Your load being taken off, 
what coldness, horse! 
It is raining. 

Drawing upon the ground, 
the children play. Over them 
sunlight of winter still lingers.

To where my own 
teacups belong 
in the house, returned. 

With the moon being high 
fishing boat lights 
have each one singly settled into a place.



The dead volcano's 
chilly surfaceand also 
wild strawberries.
Having a tatal disease, 
how beautiful my fingernails 
over the coals of charcoal!


On the white birches 
the moonlight is shining but 
the pasture fence is in fog. 

Stars above mountains 
this silkworm-raising village, 
quiet and asleep.

My existence 
facing chrysanthemums 
becomes a silence. 

Winter chrysanthemum 
what it wears is 
only the glow of itself.



The girl cutting reeds 
turns her face toward the sky 
and combs out her hair. 

A temple room's 
big heavy eavesout comes 
a spring butterfly.

Now someone else 
is beginning to cut down 
the distant reeds. 

A spider's web 
one strand of it goes across 
the front of a lily.




All plucked off 
a chicken's feathers lying 
under a winter moon.
Into a white peach 
the edge of a blade is thrust 
the seed has been cut.


Without an ending, 
the falling snow. 
What will it bring?
A tumbled-down 
scarecrow's face 
and over it the sky.


While enduring 
the loneliness of learning, 
replenishing the charcoal. 

Up to the summer weeds 
wheels of a steam engine 
come and stop. 

Under a winter moon, 
with shallow water, 
a river flows.

The string of a kite 
invisible upon the sky 
visible on a finger. 

The race-starting pistol 
sounds upon the hard-looking surface 
of the swimming pool. 



Sailing in autumn, 
being inside 
one huge and deep blue disk. 

In the baby carriage, 
onto the joggled apple 
continuing to hold. 

Falling snow! 
The Meiji period, far 
away it has gone.

Greenness everywhere 
and inside it my own child's 
teeth starting to grow out. 

Into a white peach 
the edge of a blade is thrust 
the seed has been cut.



The captive eagle 
because of loneliness is 
flapping his wingsoh!
Waiting for the bus, 
springtime on the avenue 
cannot be doubted.


What a burdensome 
life for the grasshoppers to 
experience frost.
To be a mistress 
is enough to tame me and 
I cut a watermelon.


A rainbow's body bent backward 
at its summit 
a hanging gallows. 

Ashes are falling 
In a tavern on a hill 
firewood burns up its body. 

Where sea 
waves surge forward at 
a river's mouth 
sickness is 
in a young bat lying there. 

Growing old 
and lunatic 
in a swamp 
a serpent 
blossoms with a red flower. 

They resemble stakes 
standing there in rows 
as though hammered in. 

Hear a war drum sound 
and desolately 
on autumn 
become a bruisemark. 


Old Japanese Haiku

Sonnets Rubai Tanka Gazel

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