The HyperTexts
Haiku: the Best of the Masters (Translations and Original Contemporary Poems)
Who were the best writers of haiku, the acknowledged masters of the form? This page contains modern English translations of poems by the
Oriental masters of haiku (also called hokku) and waka/tanka. Included are the
haunting death poems of Basho and Buson.
While you decline to cry,
high on the mountainside
a single stalk of plumegrass wilts.
― Ō no Yasumaro (circa 711), loose
translation/interpretation by
Michael R. Burch
I have also included translations of
haiku-like epigrams written by Sappho and other masters of ancient Greek poetry.
Masters of the haiku, tanka/waka, epigram and similar forms represented here
include Matsuo Basho, Yosa Buson, Fukuda Chiyo-ni, Glaucus, Hafiz, Sekitei Hara, Kobayashi Issa, Ono no Komachi, Sappho of Lesbos,
Ippekiro Nakatsuka, Plato, Hattori Ransetsu, Rumi, Ryokan, Yamaguchi Seishi,
Masaoka Shiki, Takaha Shugyo, Hisajo Sugita, Kyoshi Takahama, Inahata Teiko
and Ō no Yasumaro.
For explanations of how he translates and why he calls his results "loose
translations" and "interpretations" please click here:
Michael R. Burch Translation
Methods and Credits to Other Translators
HAIKU DEFINITION:
What are haiku? In Japanese hai means "unusual" and ku
means "verse" or "strophe." So haiku are, literally, unusual verses. Sir George Sansom called haiku
"little drops of poetic essence." Harold Henderson called them "meditations."
I think of haiku as evocative snapshots constructed of words: the flash
photography of literature. Another useful definition might be "transcendent
images." I have also heard haiku called "zen snapshots."
I will begin with my translations of some of my
favorite haiku by the masters Basho, Buson, Issa and Shiki:
The first soft snow:
leaves of the awed jonquil
bow low
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, investigate loneliness:
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The cheerful-chirping cricket
contends gray autumn's gay,
contemptuous of frost
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Whistle on, twilight whippoorwill,
solemn evangelist
of loneliness
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This world of dew
is a dewdrop world indeed;
and yet, and yet ...
― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I'm trying to sleep!
Please swat the flies
lightly
― Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
nightfall
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Both victor and vanquished are
dewdrops:
flashes of light
briefly illuminating the void.
—Ôuchi Yoshitaka, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
This world—to what may we compare it?
To autumn fields darkening at dusk,
dimly lit by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
If you like the haiku above, I believe you will find this page worth further
exploration and investigation ...
Sing, my sacred tortoiseshell lyre;
come, let my words
accompany your voice
― Sappho of Lesbos
As I worked on our journal's pages about the best poems of all time, the haiku below appeared to me
from out of the blue, and without any forethought on my part. As a
result, I ended up not only
creating this page, but also translating a number of haiku in the
process. Did some ancient master provide the gift below as a way of encouraging me to
pay oriental poetry its proper due? In any case, here's "my" poem:
Dark-bosomed clouds
pregnant with heavy thunder ...
the water breaks
― Michael R. Burch
Here's my translation of one of my favorite haiku, by the Japanese master Matsuo Basho (1644-1694):
The butterfly
perfuming its wings
fans the orchid
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
It's interesting, I believe, to note the similarities between three very
different poems by three very different poets. Sappho was an ancient Greek
female poet from the island of Lesbos; her homoeroticism lends denotations and
connotations to our terms "Lesbian" and "Sapphic." Matsuo Basho was an ancient
Japanese master of brief, startlingly clear haiku, who influenced (and continues
to influence) Western poets. I'm an American poet with an affinity
for all sorts of poetry, who's glad we live in a world where so much good and
great poetry is freely accessible. The three poems share a number of important
characteristics: brevity, conciseness, clarity, and the use of imagery to convey
emotion. In each poem the poet uses an image to convey more information than
the literal words. Sappho invokes the lyre, the stringed instrument that
gave us our term "lyric." When she calls the lyre "sacred," she invokes
the Muses (gods the ancient Greeks invented to explain the source of poetry;
they considered it divine).
Sappho's voice may be said to combine her voice, the
voice of the gods, and the voice of the lyre. So her apparently simple poem may
be
anything but. Basho's poem is another deceptively simple
masterpiece, as it explores the symbiotic nature of life. The butterfly benefits
from the perfumes and nectars of flowers; in the process of imbibing their
nectar it helps pollinate them. Basho's poem is an example of art mirroring
nature; it's hard to say which is more lovely: the butterfly "dancing" with the
orchid, or the exquisitely wrought poem. My poem compares a thunderstorm's
downpour to a pregnant woman's water breaking. I think it's an effective image,
although I don't expect the reader to think me worthy of the great masters.
Hopefully, however, I can pay them the homage they're justly due with my
translations ...
Pausing between clouds
the moon rests
in the eyes of its beholders
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The poem above demonstrates "power through simplicity" in the hands
of a master. My translation has a slightly different "take" on the poem, and I
can't say that it's absolutely correct, but I like it. I believe this poem
hints at the connection between the stages of the moon and human life: both are
a series of passages and rests. If we
glimpse the moon at night, slipping between clouds, it can seem eerily lovely,
haunting and restful at the same time. When a master like Basho deftly invokes
the image of the moon, he can appeal to all the things we know (or think we
know) and feel about the moon. And because the moon symbolizes love, to see it
reflected in lovers' eyes may seem deeply significant, perhaps even mystical.
The poem may suggest this, without saying it directly.
Oh, fallen camellias,
if I were you,
I'd leap into the torrent!
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The haiku above is another I especially love, because the poet draws the
reader into feeling empathy for, and sympathizing with, dying flowers. When I
interpret the poem, I see petals falling beside rapidly rushing water and hear the
poet suggesting that a quick death is better than a slow, lingering
death. One might say the poem suggests that suicide or euthanasia
may be preferable to a long, drawn-out death, although there are other
interpretations. A good poem may have as many different interpretations
as there are readers.
Eros harrows my heart:
wild winds whipping desolate mountains,
uprooting oaks.
― Sappho, fragment 42, loose translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
There is a "family resemblance" between the brief, concise, evocative lyrics of
Sappho and the brief, concise, evocative lyrics of the Oriental masters.
when you opened
my letter
were you surprised
my heart
fell out?
next door
the lovemaking
subsides
stars fall
from other worlds
an old photo
of my parents
young and happy—
of all the things I own
that is the saddest
The three poems above are by Michael Windsor McClintock, a contemporary American poet. In the late 1960s, he
was the Assistant Editor of Haiku Highlights. During the 1970s, he was the
Assistant Editor of Modern Haiku and also edited the American Haiku Poets Series
and Seer Ox: American Senryu Magazine. I think his poems demonstrate
how much emotion a simple, clear image can convey: a letter being opened, a star
falling, a photo of loved ones touching our hearts. I think the ancient
masters would admire such poems.
One apple, alone
in the abandoned orchard
reddens for winter
― Patrick Blanche, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The poem above is by a French poet; it illustrates how the poetry of Oriental masters like Basho has influenced poets around the world.
Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt
― Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wilting autumn grasses are compared to a braking locomotive grinding to a halt. Two simple images speak worlds, in the hands of a skilled poet.
This world?
Moonlit dew
flicked from a crane’s bill.
— Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Seventy-one?
How long
can a dewdrop last?
—Kigen (-1736), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Like a lotus leaf’s evaporating dew,
I, too ...
vanish.
—Senryu (-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Dew is a metaphor for the brevity and transience of life.
Our life here on earth:
to what shall we compare it?
It is not like a rowboat
departing at daybreak,
leaving no trace of us in its wake?
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The poem above is a tanka, also known as waka. The poem speaks of the human
condition: how many people die every day leaving no wake, no trace that they
ever existed? The best poets are truth-tellers. They give readers the unadulterated truth,
as they perceive it.
On rain-drenched branches
buds of the apricot tree
swell into blossom,
trembling anxiously,
as if waiting to be deflowered ...
― Kazuhiko Ito, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The poem above is another tanka. It metaphorically compares human virginity to
the virgin buds of an apricot tree (or at least that is my interpretation of the
poem). In my translation, I employed three rhymes: "tree," "anxiously" and
"nervously." While rhyme is frowned upon in some haiku/tanka circles, I
see no reason to avoid rhymes that work. I also employed alliteration:
"branches," "buds" and "blossom." Readers will have to decide for themselves if
such English poetic devices add to the translation or detract from it.
As I slept in isolation
my desired beloved appeared to me;
therefore, dreams have become my reality
and consolation.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is another tanka by a female master of the form. More
poems by Ono no Komachi can be found later on this page, in the extended
tanka/waka section.
Graven images of long-departed gods,
dry spiritless leaves:
companions of the temple porch
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Basho's poem above suggests that the ancient "gods" either never existed or are
"long-departed," and are no more effective than dead leaves on a temple porch.
See: whose surviving sons
visit the ancestral graves
white-bearded, with trembling canes?
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Again, Basho speaks honestly, with a daunting but compelling truthfulness. The
ancient Greek poets also spoke of death forthrightly. Here's an ancient Greek
epitaph (a gravestone inscription) that rivals Basho:
Does my soul abide in heaven, or hell?
Only the sea gull
in his high, lonely circuits, may tell.
― Michael R. Burch, after Glaucus
Here's another Greek epitaph (a form of epigram) that matches the best haiku in
simplicity, honesty, clarity and forthrightness:
Mariner, do not ask whose tomb this may be,
but go with good fortune: I wish you a kinder sea.
― Michael R. Burch, after Plato
Here's a much happier poem by a Sufi Muslim mystic:
I caught the happy virus last night
When I was out singing beneath the stars.
It is remarkably contagious—
So kiss me.
—Hafiz
Here's a poem by another Sufi mystic:
When I am with you, we stay up all night.
When you're not here, I can't go to sleep.
Praise God for these two insomnias!
And the difference between them.
―Jalaluddin Rumi, translation/interpretation by Coleman Barks
The two poems below are by Hisajo Sugita, a female poet:
I remove my beautiful kimono:
its varied braids
surround and entwine my body
― Hisajo Sugita, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This day of chrysanthemums
I shake and comb my wet hair,
as their petals shed rain
― Hisajo Sugita, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here are a number of poems by Matsuo Basho:
This darkening autumn:
my neighbor,
how does he continue?
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter in the air:
my neighbor,
how does he
fare?
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let us arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there's no rice
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An ancient pond,
the frog leaps:
the silver plop and gurgle of water
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An ancient pond sleeps, quiet and still ...
untroubled ... until ...
suddenly a frog leaps!
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Big old pond,
the little frog leaps:
Kerplash!
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Explosion!
The frog returns
to its lily pad.
—Michael R. Burch
The first chill rain:
poor monkey, you too could use
a woven cape of straw
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lightning
shatters the darkness―
the night heron's shriek
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lightning―
the night heron's shriek
severs the darkness
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A flash of lightning―
the night heron's shriek
splits the void
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fever-felled mid-path
my dreams resurrect, to trek
into a hollow land
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Too ill to travel,
now only my autumn dreams
survey these withering fields
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch;
this has been called Basho's death poem
This snowy morning:
cries of the crow I despise
(ah, but so beautiful!)
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Like a heavy fragrance
snow-flakes settle:
lilies on the rocks
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The sea darkening,
the voices of the wild ducks:
my mysterious companions!
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Will we remain parted forever?
Here at your grave:
two flowerlike butterflies!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Air ballet:
twin butterflies, twice white,
meet, match & mate.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ballet in the air!―
two butterflies, twice white,
meet, mate, unite.
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, butterfly,
it’s late
and we’ve a long way to go!
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A spring wind
stirs willow leaves
as a butterfly hovers unsteadily.
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dusk-gliding swallow,
please spare my small friends
flitting among the flowers!
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These brown summer grasses?
The only remains
of "invincible" warriors ...
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An empty road
lonelier than abandonment:
this autumn evening
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring has come:
the nameless hill
lies shrouded in mist
― Matsuo Basho, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The Oldest Haiku
These are my translations of some of the oldest
Japanese
waka, which evolved into poetic forms such as tanka, renga and
haiku over time. My translations are excerpts from the Kojiki
(the "Record of Ancient Matters"), a book composed around 711-712 A.D. by the
historian and poet Ō
no Yasumaro. The Kojiki relates Japan’s mythological beginnings and the
history of its imperial line. Like Virgil's Aeneid, the
Kojiki seeks to legitimize rulers by recounting their roots. These are
lines from one of the oldest Japanese poems, found in the oldest Japanese book:
While you decline to cry,
high on the mountainside
a single stalk of plumegrass wilts.
― Ō no Yasumaro (circa 711), loose
translation/interpretation by
Michael R. Burch
Here's another excerpt, with a humorous twist, from the Kojiki:
Hush, cawing crows; what rackets you make!
Heaven's indignant messengers,
you remind me of wordsmiths!
― Ō no Yasumaro (circa 711), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here's another, this one a poem of love and longing:
Onyx, this gem-black night.
Downcast, I await your return
like the rising sun, unrivaled in splendor.
― Ō no Yasumaro (circa 711), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
More Haiku by Various Poets
Right at my feet!
When did you arrive here,
snail?
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I toss in my sleep,
so watch out,
cricket!
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In a better world
I'd leave you my rice bowl,
little fly!
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All's well with the world:
another fly's sharing our rice!
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cries of the wild geese—
spreading rumors about me?
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wake up, old tomcat,
then with elaborate yawns and stretchings
prepare to pursue love
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An enormous frog!
We stare at each other,
both petrified.
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Skinny frog,
... hang on ...
Issa to the rescue!
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
While a cicada
sings softly
a single leaf falls ...
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The cry of a pheasant,
as if it just noticed
the mountain.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As I stumble home at dusk,
heavy with her eggs
a spider blocks me.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All the while I'm praying to Buddha
I'm continually killing mosquitoes.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This windy nest?
Open your hungry mouth in vain,
Issa, orphaned sparrow!
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The ghostly cow comes
mooing mooing mooing
out of the morning mist
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
If anyone comes, child,
don't open the gate
or the melons will flee!
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
It's not at all anxious to bloom,
the plum tree at my gate.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Our world of dew
is a world of dew indeed;
and yet, and yet ...
― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dew evaporates
and all our world is dew—
so dear, so fresh, so fleeting.
―Kobayashi Issa
(1763-1827), said to be about the death of his child, translator unknown
Cruel autumn wind!
Cutting to the very bones
Of my poor scarecrow!
―Kobayashi Issa
(1763-1827), translator unknown
Plumes of pampas grass
Trembling in every wind . . .
Hush, my lonely heart!
―Kobayashi Issa
(1763-1827), translator unknown
Full moon—
my ramshackle hut
is an open book.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, brilliant moon
can it be true
that even you
must rush off, late
for some date?
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, brilliant moon
can it be true that even you
must rush off, tardy?
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The snow melts
the rivers rise
and the village is flooded with children!
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The orphan speaks: the year-end party . . .
I am even envious
Of scolded children
―Kobayashi Issa
(1763-1827), translator unknown
Don't weep, we are all insects!
Lovers, even the stars themselves,
must eventually part.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Buddha on the hill . . .
From your holy nose indeed
Hangs an icicle!
―Kobayashi Issa
(1763-1827), translator unknown
In our world
we walk suspended over hell
admiring flowers.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Standing beneath cherry blossoms
who can be strangers?
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Petals I amass
with such tenderness
prick me to the quick.
― Kobayashi Issa, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Standing unsteadily,
I am the scarecrow’s
skinny surrogate
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Children delight
in bonfires
for the dead;
soon they'll light
pyres
for us, instead.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bonfires for the dead?
Soon they'll light pyres
for us instead.
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Autumn wind ...
She always wanted to pluck
the reddest roses
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Issa wrote the haiku above after the death of his daughter Sato with the note:
“Sato, girl, 35th day, at the grave.”
What does it matter how long I live,
when a tortoise lives many times as long?
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
The childless woman,
how tenderly she caresses
homeless dolls ...
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
umazume no hina kashizuku zo aware naru
Clinging
to the plum tree:
one blossom's worth of warmth
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One leaf falls, enlightenment!
Another leaf falls,
swept away by the wind ...
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
hitoha chiri totsu hitoha chiru kaze no ue
This has been called Ransetsu’s “death poem.” In The Classic Tradition of Haiku, Faubion Bowers says in a footnote to this haiku: “Just as ‘blossom’, when not
modified, means ‘cherry flower’ in haiku, ‘one leaf’ is code for ‘kiri’. Kiri
... is the Pawlonia ... The leaves drop throughout the year. They shrivel, turn
yellow, and yield to gravity. Their falling symbolizes loneliness and connotes
the past. The large purple flowers ... are deeply associated with haiku because
the three prongs hold 5, 7 and 5 buds ... ‘Totsu’ is an exclamation supposedly
uttered when a Zen student achieves enlightenment. The sound also imitates the
dry crackle the pawlonia leaf makes as it scratches the ground upon falling.”
Disdaining grass,
the firefly nibbles nettles—
this is who I am.
—Takarai Kikaku (1661-1707), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A simple man,
content to breakfast with the morning glories—
this is who I am.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is Basho’s response to the Takarai Kikaku haiku above
asagao ni / ware wa meshi kû / otoko kana
The morning glories, alas,
also turned out
not to embrace me
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The morning glories bloom,
mending chinks
in the old fence
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Morning glories,
however poorly painted,
still engage us
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
asagao wa / heta no kaku sae / aware nari
I too
have been accused
of morning glory gazing ...
—original haiku by by Michael R. Burch
Taming the rage
of an unrelenting sun—
autumn breeze.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
aka aka to / hi wa tsurenaku mo / aki no kaze
The sun sets,
relentlessly red,
yet autumn’s in the wind.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
aka aka to / hi wa tsurenaku mo / aki no kaze
As autumn deepens,
a butterfly sips
chrysanthemum dew.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
aki o hete / cho mo nameru ya / kiku no tsuyu
As autumn draws near,
so too our hearts
in this small tea room.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
aki chikaki / kokoro no yoru ya / yo jo han
Nothing happened!
Yesterday simply vanished
like the blowfish soup.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
ara nantomo na ya / kino wa sugite / fukuto-jiru
The surging sea crests around Sado ...
and above her?
An ocean of stars.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
ara umi ya / Sado ni yokotau / Ama-no-gawa
Revered figure!
I bow low
to the rabbit-eared Iris.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Yagate shino / keshiki wa miezu / semi no koe
Nothing in the cry
of the cicadas
suggests they soon die.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Yagate shino / keshiki wa miezu / semi no koe
Nothing in the cry
of the cicadas
suggests they'll soon die.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Yagate shino / keshiki wa miezu / semi no koe
Nothing in the cry
of the cicadas
suggests they know they soon must die.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I wish I could wash
this perishing earth
in its shimmering dew.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring!
A nameless hill
shrouded in mist.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dabbed with morning dew
and splashed with mud,
the melon looks wonderfully cool.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cold white azalea—
a lone nun
in her thatched straw hut.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Glimpsed on this high mountain trail,
delighting my heart—
wild violets
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A bee emerging
from deep within the peony’s hairy recesses
flies off heavily, sated
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A crow has settled
on a naked branch—
autumn nightfall
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
autumn twilight
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
phantom autumn
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
A raven settles
on a leafless branch:
autumn nightfall
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
A crow roosts
on a leafless branch:
autumn nightmare
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
NOTE: There has been a debate about the meaning of aki-no kure, which
may mean one of the following: autumn evening, autumn dusk, the end of autumn.
Or it seems possible that Basho may have intentionally invoked the ideas of both
the end of an autumn day and the end of the season as well. In my translations I
have tried to create an image of solitary crow clinging to a branch that seems
like a harbinger of approaching winter and death. In the first translation I
went with the least light possible: autumn twilight. In the second translation,
I attempted something more ghostly. Phrases I considered include: spectral
autumn, skeletal autumn, autumnal skeleton, phantom autumn, autumn nocturne,
autumn nightfall, autumn nightmare, dismal autumn. In the third and fourth
translations I focused on the color of the bird and its resemblance to night
falling. While literalists will no doubt object, my goal is to create an
image and a feeling that convey in English what I take Basho to
have been trying to convey in Japanese. Readers will have to decide whether they
prefer my translations to the many others that exist, but mine are
trying to convey the eeriness of the scene in English.
Winter solitude:
a world awash in white,
the sound of the wind
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sick of its autumn migration
my spirit drifts
over wilted fields ...
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), said to be his death poem, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sick of this autumn migration
in dreams I drift
over flowerless fields ...
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), said to be his death poem, loose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
NOTE: While literalists will no doubt object to "flowerless" in the translation
above ― along with other word choices in my other translations ― this is my
preferred version. I think Basho's meaning still comes through. But "wilted" is
probably closer to what he meant. If only we could consult him, to ask whether
he preferred strictly literal prose translations of his poems, or more poetic
interpretations! My guess is that most poets would prefer for their poems to
remain poetry in the second language. In my opinion the differences are minor
and astute readers will grok both Basho's meaning and his emotion.
Except for a woodpecker
tapping at a post,
the house is silent.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
That dying cricket,
how he goes on about his life!
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Like a glorious shrine—
on these green, budding leaves,
the sun’s intense radiance.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
ara toto / aoba wakaba no / hi no hikar
The legs of the cranes
have been shortened
by the summer rains.
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), loose translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
A kite floats
at the same place in the sky
where yesterday it floated ...
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The pigeon's behavior
is beyond reproach,
but the mountain cuckoo's?
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Plowing,
not a single bird sings
in the mountain's shadow
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
On adjacent branches
the plum tree blossoms bloom
petal by petal―love!
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The red plum's fallen petals
seem to ignite horse shit.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Intruder!―
This white plum tree
was once outside our fence!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
White plum blossoms―
though the hour grows late,
a glimpse of dawn
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch; this is believed to be Buson's
death poem and he is said to have died before dawn
The pear tree flowers whitely―
a young woman reads his letter
by moonlight
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As the pear tree flowers whitely―
a young woman reads his letter
by moonlight
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The abandoned willow
shines
between rains
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dawn!
The brilliant sun illuminates
sardine heads.
―
Yosa
Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Tender grass
forgetful of its roots
the willow
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
NOTE: I believe this poem can be taken as commentary on ungrateful children. It
reminds me of Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays."―MRB
The dew-damp grass
weeps silently
in the setting sun
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Since I'm left here alone,
I'll make friends with the harvest moon.
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Because I'm alone,
I'll make friends with the moon.
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The hood-wearer
in his self-created darkness
fails to see the harvest moon
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Even lonelier than last year:
this autumn evening.
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My thoughts return to my Mother and Father:
late autumn
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Late autumn:
my thoughts return to my Mother and Father
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The roaring winter wind:
the cataract grates on its rocks.
―Yosa Buson (1716-1783), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The autumn wind eludes me;
for me there are no gods,
no Buddhas
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Such a small child
banished to become a priest:
frigid Siberia!
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I'm trying to sleep!
Please swat the flies
lightly
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
After killing a spider,
how lonely I felt
in the frigid night.
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The night flies!
My life,
how much more of it remains?
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A summer river:
disdaining the bridge,
my horse gallops through water.
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
After the fireworks,
the spectators departed:
how vast and dark the sky!
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I got drunk
then wept in my sleep
dreaming of wild cherry blossoms.
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
We cannot see the moon
and yet the waves still rise
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The first morning of autumn:
the mirror I investigate
reflects my father’s face
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I thought I felt a dewdrop
plop
on my head
as I lay in bed!
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As thunder recedes
a lone tree stands illuminated in sunlight:
applauded by cicadas
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wild geese take flight,
gliding low along the railroad tracks
in the moonlight.
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The childless woman
tenderly fondles
dolls for sale
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
We cannot see the moon
and yet the waves still rise
―
Shiki Masaoka, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The first morning of autumn:
the mirror I investigate
reflects my father’s face
―
Shiki Masaoka, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wild geese pass
leaving the emptiness of heaven
revealed
―
Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Silently observing
the bottomless mountain lake:
water lilies
―
Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cranes
flapping ceaselessly
test the sky's upper limits
―
Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Falling snowflakes'
glitter
tinsels the sea
―
Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Blizzards here on earth,
blizzards of stars
in the sky
―
Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Completely encircled
in emerald:
the glittering swamp!
―
Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The new calendar!:
as if tomorrow
is assured ...
―
Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ah butterfly,
what dreams do you ply
with your beautiful wings?
―
Fukuda
Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Because morning glories
hold my well-bucket hostage
I go begging for water
―
Fukuda
Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring
stirs the clouds
in the sky's teabowl
―
Kikusha-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Tonight I saw
how
the peony crumples
in the fire's embers
―
Katoh Shuhson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
It fills me with anger,
this moon; it fills me
and makes me whole
―
Takeshita Shizunojo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
War
stood at the end of the hall
in the long shadows
―
Watanabe Hakusen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Because he is slow to wrath,
I tackle him, then wring his neck
in the long grass
―
Shimazu Ryoh, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pale mountain sky:
cherry petals play
as they tumble earthward
―
Kusama Tokihiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The frozen moon,
the frozen lake:
two oval mirrors reflecting each other.
―
Hashimoto Takako, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The bitter winter wind
ends here
with the frozen sea
―
Ikenishi Gonsui, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, bitter winter wind,
why bellow so
when there's no leaves to fell?
―
Natsume Sôseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter waves
roil
their own shadows
―
Tominaga Fûsei, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
No sky,
no land:
just snow eternally falling ...
―
Kajiwara Hashin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Along with spring leaves
my child's teeth
take root, blossom
―
Nakamura Kusatao, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stillness:
a single chestnut leaf glides
on brilliant water
―
Ryuin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The snake slipped away
but his eyes, having held mine,
still stare in the grass
―
Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Girls gather rice sprouts:
reflections of the water flicker
on the backs of their hats
―
Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Murmurs follow the hay cart
this blossoming summer day
―
Ippekiro Nakatsuka (1887-1946), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The wet nurse
paused to consider a bucket of sea urchins
then walked away
―
Ippekiro Nakatsuka (1887-1946), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May I be with my mother
wearing her summer kimono
by the morning window
―
Ippekiro Nakatsuka (1887-1946), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The hands of a woman exist
to remove the insides of the spring cuttlefish
―
Sekitei Hara, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon
hovering above the snow-capped mountains
rained down hailstones
―
Sekitei Hara, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, dreamlike winter butterfly:
a puff of white snow
cresting mountains
―
Kakio Tomizawa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring snow
cascades over fences
in white waves
―
Suju Takano, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All evening the softest sound―
the cadence of the white camellia petals
falling
―Ranko Takakuwa (1726-1798), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stillness:
the sound of petals
drifting down softly together ...
―Miura Chora (1729-1780), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A pity to pluck,
A pity to pass ...
Ah, violet!
―Naojo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Silence:
a single chestnut leaf
sinks through clear water ...
―Shohaku, loose translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
More tanka/waka translations:
If fields of autumn flowers
can shed their blossoms, shameless,
why can’t I also frolic here —
as fearless, and as blameless?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Submit to you —
is that what you advise?
The way the ripples do
whenever ill winds arise?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Watching wan moonlight
illuminate trees,
my heart also brims,
overflowing
with autumn.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I had thought to pluck
the flower of forgetfulness
only to find it
already blossoming in his heart.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
That which men call "love" —
is it not merely the chain
preventing our escape
from this world of pain?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Once-colorful flowers faded,
while in my drab cell
life’s impulse also abated
as the long rains fell.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I set off at the shore
of the seaside of Tago,
where I saw the high, illuminated peak
of Fuji―white, aglow―
through flakes of drifting downy snow.
―
Akahito Yamabe, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Zen Death Haiku & Related Oriental Poems
My body?
Pointless
as the tree’s last persimmon.
—Seisa (-1722), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Farewell! I pass
as all things do:
dew drying on grass.
—Banzan (-1730), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Seventy-one?
How long
can a dewdrop last?
—Kigen (-1736), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
The night is clear;
the moon shines quietly;
the wind strums the trees like lyres ...
but when I’m gone, who the hell will hear?
Farewell!
—Higan Choro aka Zoso Royo (1194-1277), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I entered the world empty-handed
and leave it barefoot.
My coming and going?
Two uncomplicated events
that became entangled.
—Kozan Ichikyo (1283-1360), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Brittle autumn leaves
crumble to dust
in the bittercold wind.
—Takao (?-1660), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This frigid season
nothing but the shadow
of my corpse survives.
—Tadatomo (1624-1676), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My life was mere lunacy
until
the moon shone tonight.
Tokugen (1558-1647), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
“Isn’t it time,”
the young bride asks,
“to light the lantern?”
Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
With the departing year
I have hidden my graying hair
from my parents.
Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I wish to die
under the spring cherry blossoms
and April’s full moon.
Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Like blocks in the icehouse,
unlikely to last
the year out ...
—Sentoku (1661-1726), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Once again
the melon-cool moon
rises above the rice fields.
—Tanko (1665-1735), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
At long last I depart:
above me are rainless skies and a pristine moon
as pure as my heart.
—Senseki (1712-1742), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cuckoo, lift
me up
to where the clouds drift ...
Uko (1686-1743), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sixty-six,
setting sail through tranquil waters,
a breeze-blown lotus.
Usei (1698-1764), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Returning
as it came,
this naked worm.
—Shidoken (?-1765), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Brittle cicada shell,
little did I know
you were my life!
—Shuho (?-1767), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Like dew glistening
on a lotus leaf,
so too I soon must vanish.
—Shinsui (1720-1769), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Is it me the raven summons
from the spirit world
this frigid morning?
—Shukabo (1717-1775), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To prepare for my voyage beyond,
let me don
a gown of flowers.
—Setsudo (1715-1776), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
From depths
unfathomably cold:
the oceans roar!
—Kasenjo (d. 1776), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Today Mount Hiei’s sky
with a quick change of clouds
also removes its robes.
Shogo (1731-1798), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I cup curious ears
among the hydrangeas
hoping to hear the spring cuckoo.
—Senchojo (?-1802), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Life,
is it like
a charcoal sketch, an obscure shadow?
—Toyokuni (?-1825), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Having been summoned,
I say farewell
to my house beneath the moon.
—Takuchi (1767-1846), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Since time dawned
only the dead have experienced peace;
life is snow burning in the sun.
—Nandai (1786-1817), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bitter winter winds ...
but later, river willow,
remember to open your buds!
—Senryu (1717-1790), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This leafless willow tree:
unlikely to be missed
as much as the cherry blossoms.
—Senryu II (?-1818), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My path
to Paradise:
ringed bright with flowers.
—Sokin (?-1818), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let this body
be dew
in a field of wildflowers.
—Tembo (1740-1823), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A willow branch
unable to reach the water
at the bottom of the vase.
—Shigenobu (?-1832), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bury me
beneath a wine barrel
in a bibber’s cellar:
with a little luck
the keg will leak.
—Moriya Senan (?-1838), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Learn to accept the inevitable:
the fall willow
knows when to abandon its leaves.
—Tanehiko (1782-1842), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I wish only to die
swiftly, with my eyes
fixed on Mount Fuji.
—Rangai (1770-1845), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A strident cricket
accompanies me
through autumn mountains.
—Shiko (1788-1845), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The cherry orchard’s owner
soon
becomes compost
for his trees.
—Utsu (1813-1863), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Autumn ends ...
the frogs find their place
submerged
in the earth.
—Shogetsu (1829-1899), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
First one hidden face is revealed,
then the other; thus spinning it falls,
the autumn leaf.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I persuaded a child to purchase rural wine;
once I'm nicely tipsy,
I’ll slap down some calligraphy.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The thief missed it:
the moon
bejeweling my window.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This world:
a distant mountain echo
dying unheard ...
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The peonies I planted around my hut
I must now surrender
to the wind’s will
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wild peonies
blossoming in their prime,
glorious in full bloom:
Too precious to pick,
To precious to leave unplucked
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A night storm sighs:
"The fate of the flower is to fall" ...
rebuking all who hesitate
―Yukio Mishima, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch;
this is said to have been his death poem before committing ritual suicide.
But one poet, at least, cast doubt on the death poem enterprise:
Death poems?
Damned delusions—
Death is death!
—Toko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
New Zen Death Haiku, Added 10/6/2020
Air ballet:
twin butterflies, twice white,
meet, match & mate
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Denied transformation
into a butterfly,
autumn worsens for the worm
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dusk-gliding swallow,
please spare my small friends
flitting among the flowers!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Up and at ’em! The sky goes bright!
Let’s hit the road again,
Companion Butterfly!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Higher than a skylark,
resting on the breast of heaven:
mountain pass.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Farewell,
my cloud-parting friend!
Wild goose migrating.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A crow settles
on a leafless branch:
autumn nightfall.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An exciting struggle
with such a sad ending:
cormorant fishing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Secretly,
by the light of the moon,
a worm bores into a chestnut.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This strange flower
investigated by butterflies and birds:
the autumn sky
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Where’s the moon tonight?
Like the temple bell:
lost at sea.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spring departs;
birds wail;
the pale eyes of fish moisten.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon still appears,
though far from home:
summer vagrant.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cooling the pitiless sun’s
bright red flames:
autumn wind.
Saying farewell to others
while being told farewell:
departing autumn.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Traveling this road alone:
autumn evening.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Thin from its journey
and not yet recovered:
late harvest moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Occasional clouds
bless tired eyes with rest
from moon-viewing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The farmboy
rests from husking rice
to reach for the moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon aside,
no one here
has such a lovely face.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon having set,
all that remains
are the four corners of his desk.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon so bright
a wandering monk carries it
lightly on his shoulder.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The Festival of Souls
is obscured
by smoke from the crematory.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The Festival of Souls!
Smoke from the crematory?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Family reunion:
those with white hair and canes
visiting graves.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One who is no more
left embroidered clothes
for a summer airing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What am I doing,
writing haiku on the threshold of death?
Hush, a bird’s song!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fallen ill on a final tour,
in dreams I go roving
earth’s flowerless moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Striken ill on a senseless tour,
still in dreams I go roving
earth’s withered moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Stricken ill on a journey,
in dreams I go wandering
withered moors.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Today, catching sight of the mallards
crying over Lake Iware:
Must I too vanish into the clouds?
—Prince Otsu (663-686), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Momozutau / iware no ike ni / naku kamo wo / kyo nomi mite ya / Kumokakuri nan
This world—to what may we compare it?
To autumn fields darkening at dusk,
dimly lit by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
This world—
to what may we compare it?
To autumn fields
darkening at dusk,
illuminated by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago (911-983), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
This world—to what may we liken it?
To autumn fields lit dimly at dusk,
illuminated by lightning flashes.
—Minamoto no Shitago (911-983), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Like a half-exposed rotten log
my life, which never flowered,
ends barren.
—Minamoto Yorimasa (1104-1180), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Overtaken by darkness,
I will lodge under a tree’s branches;
cherry blossoms will cushion me tonight.
—Taira no Tadanori (1144–1184), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Overtaken by darkness,
I will lodge under a cherry tree’s branches;
flowers alone will bower me tonight.
—Taira no Tadanori (1144–1184), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Let me die in spring
beneath the cherry blossoms
while the moon is full.
—Saigyo (1118-1190), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
There is no death, as there is no life.
Are not the skies cloudless
And the rivers clear?
—Taiheiki Toshimoto (-1332), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
All five aspects of my fleeting human form
And the four elements of existence add up to nothing:
I bare my neck to the unsheathed sword
And its blow is but a breath of wind ...
—Suketomo (1290-1332), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Had I not known
I was already dead
I might have mourned
my own passing.
—Ota Dokan (1432-1486), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Both victor and vanquished are
dewdrops:
flashes of light
briefly illuminating the void.
—Ôuchi Yoshitaka, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Both victor and vanquished are
but dewdrops
in which lightning flashes
briefly illuminate the void.
—Ôuchi Yoshitaka, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Even a life of long prosperity is like a single cup of sake;
my life of forty-nine years flashed by like a dream.
Nor do I know what life is, nor death.
All the years combined were but a fleeting dream.
Now I step beyond both Heaven and Hell
To stand alone in the moonlit dawn,
Free from the mists of attachment.
—Uesugi Kenshin (1530-1578), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
My life appeared like dew
and disappears like dew.
All Naniwa was a series of dreams.
—Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536-1598), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Felt deeply in my heart:
How beautiful the snow,
Clouds gathering in the west.
—Issho (-1668), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Brittle cicada shell,
little did I know
that you were my life!
—Shoshun (-1672), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Inhale, exhale.
Forward, reverse.
Live, die.
Let arrows fly, meet midway and sever the void in aimless flight:
Thus I return to the Source.
—Gesshu Soko (-1696), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem)by Michael R. Burch
A tempestuous sea ...
Flung from the deck —
this block of ice.
—Choha (-1740), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Empty cicada shell:
we return as we came,
naked.
—Fukaku (-1753), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Since I was born,
I must die,
and so …
—Kisei (1688-1764), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Let us arise and go,
following the path of the clear dew.
—Fojo (-1764), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Depths of the cold,
unfathomable ocean’s roar.
—Kasenjo (-1776), loose translation/interpretation of her jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Things never stand still,
not even for a second:
consider the trees’ colors.
—Seiju (-1776), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
—Yosa Buson (-1783), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Bitter winter winds!
But later, river willow,
reopen your buds ...
—Senryu (-1790), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Who cares
where aimless clouds are drifting?
—Bufu (-1792), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
What does it matter how long I live,
when a tortoise lives many times as long?
—Issa (-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Like a lotus leaf’s evaporating dew,
I vanish.
—Senryu (-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Man’s end:
this mound of albescent bones,
this brief flowering sure to fade ...
—Hamei (-1837), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
When I kick the bucket,
bury me beneath a tavern’s cellar wine barrel;
with a little luck the cask will leak.
—Moriya Sen’an (-1838), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Ware shinaba / sakaya no kame ni / shita no ikeyo / moshi ya shisuku no / moriyasennen
Frost on a balmy day:
all I leave is the water
that washed my brush.
—Tanaka Shutei (1810-1858, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Though moss may overgrow
my useless corpse,
the seeds of patriotism shall never decay.
—Nomura Boto (1806-1867), loose translation/interpretation of her jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
My aging body:
a drop of dew
bulging at the leaf-cliff.
—Kiba (-1868), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Forbearing the night
with its growing brilliance:
the summer moon.
—Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839-1892), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Blow if you must,
autumn wind,
but the flowers have already faded.
—Gansan (-1895), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Time to go ...
They say this journey is a long trek:
this final change of robes.
—Roshu (-1899), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
The moon departs;
frost paralyzes the morning glories.
— Kato (-1908), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
Stumble,
tumble,
fall,
slide down the slippery snow slope.
— Getsurei (-1919), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
The Orchid
Deep in the valley, a secluded beauty!
Serene, peerless, impossibly lovely.
In the bamboo thicket’s shadowy tower
she seems to sigh softly for a lover.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
New Haiku Translations, added 6/27/2022
As the monks
sip their morning tea,
chrysanthemums quietly blossom.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The fragrance of plum blossoms
on a foggy path:
the sun rising.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The sea darkens ...
yet still faintly white
the wild duck protests.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pear tree blossoms
whitened by moonlight:
a young woman reading a letter.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Outlined in the moonlight ...
who is that standing
among the pear trees?
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your coolness:
the sound of the bell
departing the bell.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As the moon flies west
the flowers' shadows
creep eastward.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
By such pale moonlight
even the wisteria's fragrance
seems distant.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Leaves
like crows’ shadows
flirt with a lonely moon.
Kaga no Chiyo (1703-1775), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let me die
covered with flowers
and never again wake to this earthly dream!
—Ochi Etsujin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To reveal how your heart flowers,
sway like the summer grove.
—Tagami Kikusha-Ni (1753-1826), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R.
Burch
In the thicket's shade
a solitary woman sings the rice-planting song.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Unaware of these degenerate times,
cherry blossoms abound!
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These silent summer nights
even the stars
seem to whisper.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The enormous firefly
weaves its way, this way and that,
as it passes by.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Composed like the Thinker, he sits
contemplating the mountains:
the sagacious frog!
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A fallen blossom
returning to its bough?
No, a butterfly!
Arakida Moritake (1473-1549), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R.
Burch
Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water ...
Hattori Ransetsu (1654-1707), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R.
Burch
Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
Masaoki Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
Masaoki Shiki (1867-1902), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama (1874-1959), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
As girls gather rice sprouts
reflections of the rain ripple
on the backs of their hats.
—Kyoshi Takahama (1874-1959), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
New Haiku Translations, added 5-30-2023
PLUM BLOSSOM HAIKU
A shy maiden:
the loveliness of the lone plum
blossoming
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Longing for plum blossoms:
bowing before the deutzia,
weeping.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Moonlit plum tree,
tarry!
Spring will return soon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The plum blossom’s fragrance
warms
winter’s frigid embrace.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
White plum blossoms:
have the cranes
gone undercover?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Suddenly, the scent of plums
on a mountain path:
sunrise!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warm sun unfolds
the plum blossom’s scent:
a mountain path.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The plum in full bloom
must not be disturbed
by the wind.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The plum's fragrance:
the past
holds such pathos.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Are you the butterfly
and I the dreaming heart
of Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
kimi ya cho / ware ya shoshi no / yume gokoro
The poem above is a reference to a butterfly dream of Chuang Tzu, a Taoist
sage and poet who was a major influence on Basho. Soshi is the Japanese
rendering of the name Chuang Tzu. I believe what Basho may have meant is
something closer to this:
Are you the butterfly
while I pursue dreams
of Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Are you the butterfly
while in my dreams
I flit after Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The white poppy
accepts the butterfly's broken wing
as a keepsake
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
shirageshi ni / hane mogu cho no / katami kana
As autumn deepens
a butterfly sips
chrysanthemum dew
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
aki o hete / cho mo nameru ya / kiku no tsuyu
The translation above is slated to be published by Emma Burleigh in her book
Earth Color.
A single leaf
of paulownia falling
reflects the sun.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I caught a falling cherry petal;
but opening my fist ...
nothing
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
They call it a white peony
yet it contains
hints of red
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Evening shadows
grow thick
on the floating algae
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The snake slithered away
yet his eyes, having met mine,
remained
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The bamboo grove
is lit
by the yellow spring sunlight
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Chikurin ni/ Ki naru haruhi wo/ Aogikeri
On a hot summer night
dreams and reality
merge.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mizika-yo ya/ Yume mo utsutsu mo / Onazi koto
The summer butterfly
has to look sharp
to make its getaway.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Natsu no cho/ Manako surudoku/ Kakeri kishi
The autumn sky
is severed
by the big chinquapin tree.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Akizora wo/ Futatsu ni tateri/ Shii-taiju
“Cawa-cawa!”
The winter crow
elocutes coarsely.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Kawa kawa to/ Ookiku yuruku/ Samu-garasu
New Haiku Translations, added 12-12-2023
The spring sea
eternally
rising and falling, ebbing and flowing ...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I write, erase, revise, erase again,
and then...
suddenly a poppy blooms!
—Katsushika Hokusai, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My well-bucket held hostage
by morning glories,
I went begging for water.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni aka Kaga Chiyome, loose translation/interpretation by Michael
R. Burch
Ah butterfly,
what dreams do you ply
with your beautiful wings?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni aka Kaga Chiyome, loose translation/interpretation by Michael
R. Burch
Fukuda Chiyo-ni (1703-1775), also known as Kaga no Chiyo and Kaga Chiyome, was a
Japanese poet, painter and calligrapher of the Edo period. She began writing
haiku at age seven and by age seventeen was popular throughout Japan. At age 52
she became a Buddhist nun, shaved her head, adopted the name Soen (“Escape”),
and took up residence in a temple.
A piercing chill
in our bedroom:
stabbed by my dead wife’s comb.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
After killing a spider,
how lonely I felt
in the frigid night.
—Masaoka Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Not to worry spiders,
I clean house ... sparingly.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wearily,
I enter the inn
to be welcomed by wisteria!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pale moonlight:
the wisteria’s fragrance
seems equally distant.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
By such pale moonlight
even the wisteria's fragrance
seems distant.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pale moonlight:
the wisteria’s fragrance
drifts in from afar.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pale moonlight:
the wisteria’s fragrance
drifts in from nowhere.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Patiently,
I awaited the new moon:
now I have my reward.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The cicada’s shrill cry
conveys no understanding
that it soon will die.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vanishing spring:
songbirds lament,
fish weep with watery eyes.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One candle
lights another candle:
winter starlight.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Bitter winter wind,
why bellow so
when there's no leaves to blow?
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter winds howl in rage,
having no leaves to abuse.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Right at my feet!
When did you arrive here,
snail?
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Climb holy Mt. Fuji, snail,
but in your humble way:
no need to rush!
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
While praying to Buddha
I keep killing mosquitoes.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I'm trying to sleep!
Please swat the flies
gently.
—Masaoka Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Some men
would tell even the cuckoo
not to sing.
—Masaoka Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
(The pen name Shiki means “cuckoo.”)
Plum flower temple:
voices ascend
from the valleys.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The lamp extinguished,
once-distant stars
have a reunion at my window.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Original Haiku
Brittle autumn leaf,
no one informed me
you were my life!
—Michael R. Burch
Fading memories
of summer holidays:
the closet’s last floral skirt
—Michael R. Burch
Scandalous tides,
removing bikinis!
—Michael R. Burch
This is a poem of mine composed of haiku-like stanzas:
Dandelion, Roar!
by Michael R. Burch
Lift up your head
dandelion,
hear spring roar!
How will you tidy your hair
so near
summer?
Leave to each still night
your lightest affliction,
dandruff.
Soon you will free yourself:
one shake
of your white mane.
Now there are worlds
into which you appear
and disappear
seemingly at will
but invariably blown—
wildly, then still.
Gasp at the bright chill
glower
of winter.
Icicles splinter;
sleep still an hour,
till, resurrected in power,
you lift up your head,
dandelion.
Hear spring roar!
Untitled
You rise with the sun,
mysteriously warm,
also scattering sunbeams.
—Michael R. Burch
As springs’ budding blossoms emerge
the raptors glide mercilessly.
—Michael R. Burch
I wrote this haiku-like poem above on 3-27-2023 after the Nashville Covenant school
massacre.—Michael R. Burch
Incomprehensible
by Michael R. Burch
“Slain” — an impossible word to comprehend.
The male lion murders cubs,
licks his lips, devours them.
Untitled
Her sky-high promises:
midday moon
—Michael R. Burch
The north wind’s refrain,
a southbound train ...
Invitation?
—Michael R. Burch
The north wind’s refrain,
the receding strain
of a southbound train ...
Invitation?
—Michael R. Burch
The moon blushed
then fled behind a cloud:
her stolen kiss.
—Michael R. Burch
Elderly sunflowers:
bees trimming their beards.
—Michael R. Burch
Dry leaf flung awry:
bright butterfly,
goodbye!
― Michael R. Burch
A snake in the grass
lies, hissing
Trespass!
― Michael R. Burch
Honeysuckle
blesses the knuckle
with affectionate dew
― Michael R. Burch
The day’s eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.
― Michael R. Burch
She bathes in silver,
afloat
on her reflections ...
—Michael R. Burch
My mother’s eyes
acknowledging my imperfection:
dejection
― Michael R. Burch
The whore with the pallid lips
lipsticks
into something more comfortable
― Michael R. Burch
I am a traveler
going nowhere—
but my how the gawking bystanders stare!
― Michael R. Burch
Even the moon in decline
like my lover’s heart
lies far beyond mine
― Michael R. Burch
Night,
the ice and the darkness
conspire against human warmth
― Michael R. Burch
Night
and the stars
conspire against me
― Michael R. Burch
Late autumn; now all
the golden leaves turn black underfoot:
soot
― Michael R. Burch
Celebrate the New Year?
The cat is not impressed,
the dogs shiver.
―Michael R. Burch
#POEM #POEMS #POETRY #HAIKU #MRB-HAIKU #MRBPOEM #MRBPOEMS #MRBPOETRY #MRBHAIKU
#MRBTRANSLATION #MRBTRANSLATIONS #MRBPOET #MRBBASHO #MRBBUSON #MRBISSA #MRBSHIKI
The following are links to other translations by Michael R. Burch:
Matsuo Basho
Yosa Buson
Kobayashi Issa
Ono no Komachi
Yamaguchi Seishi
Takaha Shugyo
Oriental Masters of Haiku
Japanese Death Poems
Fukuda Chiyo-ni
The Love Song of Shu-Sin: The Earth's Oldest Love Poem?
Ancient Greek Epigrams and Epitaphs
Meleager
Sappho
The Seafarer
Wulf and Eadwacer
Sweet Rose of Virtue
How Long the Night
Caedmon's Hymn
Anglo-Saxon Riddles and Kennings
Bede's Death Song
The Wife's Lament
Deor's Lament
Lament for the Makaris
Tegner's Drapa
Whoso List to Hunt
Miklós Radnóti
Bertolt Brecht
Ber Horvitz
Paul Celan
Primo Levi
Wladyslaw Szlengel
Saul Tchernichovsky
Robert Burns: Original Poems and Translations
The Seventh Romantic: Robert Burns
Ahmad Faraz
Allama Iqbal
Sandor Marai
Alexander Pushkin's tender, touching poem "I
Love You" has been translated into English by Michael R. Burch.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Marina Tsvetaeva
Renée Vivien
Original Haiku and Tanka
by Michael R. Burch
Free Love Poems by Michael R. Burch
The HyperTexts