After The Gentle Poet Kobayashi Issa

New Year's morning—

everything is in blossom!

I feel about average.

A huge frog and I

staring at each other,

neither of us moves.

This moth saw brightness

in a woman's chamber—

burned to a crisp.

Asked how old he was

the boy in the new kimono

stretched out all five fingers.

Blossoms at night,

like people

moved by music

Napped half the day;

no one

punished me!

Fiftieth birthday:

From now on,

It's all clear profit,

every sky.

Don't worry, spiders,

I keep house

casually.

These sea slugs,

they just don't seem

Japanese.

Hell:

Bright autumn moon;

pond snails crying

in the saucepan.