Frases de Matsuo Bashō

“No perfume das flores de ameixa,
O sol de súbito surge -
Ah, o caminho da montanha!”

“Vento de outono
a silenciosa colina
muda me responde”

“Não siga as pegadas dos antigos, procure o que eles procuravam.”

“De tantos instantes
para mim lembrança
as flores de cerejeira.”

“Mesmo um velho cavalo
é belo de manhã
sobre a neve”

“Este caminho!
sem ninguém nele,
escuridão de outono.”

“Move-te ó tumba!
Meu pranto
é o vento do outono.”

“Trégua de vidro:
o canto da cigarra
perfura rochas.”

“Viagem de anciões,
Cabelos brancos, bastões
- visita aos túmulos.”

“Nesta noite
ninguém pode deitar-se:
lua cheia.”

“Sobre o telhado
flores de castanheiro
ignoradas.”

“Quimonos secando
ao sol. Oh, aquela manguinha
da criança morta!”

“Ainda que morrendo
o canto das cigarras
nada revela!”

“Relvas de verão
sob as quais os guerreiros
sonham.”

“Noite sem lua ou estrelas
o bebedor de sakê
bebe sozinho.”

“A mesma paisagem
escuta o canto e assiste
a morte das cigarras”

“Como que levada
pela brisa, a borboleta
vai de ramo em ramo.”

“Ruídos nas ramas.
Trêmulo, meu coração detem-se
e chora na noite…”

“A cigarra… ouvi:
nada revela em seu canto
que ela vai morrer”

“Já é primavera:
Uma colina sem nome
Sob a névoa da manhã.”

“O grito do faisão -
Que saudade imensa
De meu pai e minha mãe.”

“Do orvalho
nunca esqueça
o branco gosto solitário”

“Agora é inverno
e no mundo uma só cor;
o som do vento.”

“De que árvore florida
chega? Não sei.
Mas é seu perfume…”

“Between our two lives
there is also the life of
the cherry blossom.”

“Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.”

“Many solemn nights
Blond moon, we stand and marvel…
Sleeping our noons away”

“The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.”

“This autumn-
why am I growing old?
bird disappearing among clouds.”

“Describe plum-blossoms?
Better than my verses… white
Wordless Butterflies”

“Sick on a journey,
my dreams wander
the withered fields.
Bashō's last poem, written while he was dying of a stomach illness.”

“My body, now close to fifty years of age, has become an old tree that bears bitter peaches, a snail which has lost its shell, a bagworm separated from its bag; it drifts with the winds and clouds that know no destination. Morning and night I have eaten traveler's fare, and have held out for alms a pilgrim's wallet.”

“Who mourns makes grief his master.
Who drinks makes pleasure his master.”

“Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise; seek what they sought.”

“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.”

“Come, butterfly
It's late-
We've miles to go together.”

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

“All Heaven and Earth
Flowered white obliterate…
Snow… unceasing snow”

“When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.”

“Come, see the true
flowers
of this pained world.”

“April's air stirs in
Willow-leaves… a butterfly
Floats and balances”

“Summer grasses,
All that remains
Of soldiers' dreams”

“How I long to see
among dawn flowers,
the face of God.”

“Sadly, I part from you;
Like a clam torn from its shell,
I go, and autumn too.”

“Ballet in the air…
Twin butterflies until, twice white
They Meet, they mate”

“Mountain-rose petals
Falling, falling, falling now…
Waterfall music”

“On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening”

“Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto”

“Harvest moon:
around the pond I wander
and the night is gone.”

“No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.”

“Why so scrawny, cat?
Starving for fat fish or mice…
Or backyard love?”

“Awakened at midnight
by the sound of the water jar
cracking from the ice”

“Nothing in the cry
of cicadas suggests they
are about to die”