Let me tell you the story about the 6 people I’ve met. Let me just say first that they are famous. They are always talked about. But don’t envy me or feel anything bad, because don’t worry, you will meet them all too. Or perhaps, you have probably met them. You probably met some of them already. We all did. Now I will tell you the story of when I met them, of where I met them, and how I met them.



I first met Happiness when my mom bought me my dream barbie doll. I was so eager to have it and seeing my mom holding it made me feel.. incredible. I couldn’t explain it at first because I was so young, I didn’t know emotions yet but when someone named Happiness came, I immediately knew what I felt. Happiness stayed with me for a long time, happiness was with me during my 7th birthday when I had a party. Happiness was with me when I became the first honor of my class. Happiness was with me when I watched the Hannah Montana movie. Happiness was with me when I traveled with my whole family, when we were all together. To sum it up, Happiness was with me when I was young. And when I grew older, Happiness needed to leave. I begged Happiness, “Please don’t go.”, like Happiness was my father leaving us, like Happiness was my childhood friend moving to another country. But Happiness told me, “I need to.”


And then nostalgia came. Nostalgia came when I missed my barbie dolls. Nostalgia was with me when I was listening to Best of Both Worlds and all the memories of being a Hannah Montana fan came back. Nostalgia was with me when I was looking at the old pictures of me and my family. Nostalgia was with me when I was looking for my shirt and I suddenly saw my dress when I was a baby that reminded me of my childhood. Nostalgia was with me when I was missing what it felt like to have a complete family. Nostalgia was with me when I wished to be just a little kid playing barbie dolls with no worries in life. Nostalgia made me miss Happiness more, and made me wonder when will Happiness come back. And then Nostalgia left, and another person came. I was hoping the person would be Happiness, the person wasn’t.


A person named Loneliness came unwanted. Loneliness came the first time I had a failing grade. Loneliness was with my side when my friend needed to move to another school. Loneliness was with me when I was no longer an honor student. Loneliness was with me when my mom scolded me about my low grades and I locked myself inside the bathroom, alone, crying, and I didn’t have someone, only Loneliness. Loneliness was with me when I was growing up. Loneliness was with me when I was compared to other people, and they were better than me. Loneliness was with me when I lost everything. Loneliness was with me when I became a nobody. Loneliness was with me for a long period of time. Loneliness was like a friend who I never wanted to be with, a friend who I hated so much, but that friend won’t just go away no matter how hard you try, and no matter how hard I try Loneliness will never be a friend to me. But Loneliness told me, “Don’t worry. I will leave soon. I won’t be here forever.” And so Loneliness left.


And this strange, mysterious, indescribable person came. The person was named Love. And I thought, “Oh, so this is the famous Love.” I wanted to tell Love I wasn’t ready to meet you yet, but I didn’t know Love would come, Love came unexpectedly. Love came when I met you. Love was with me when you held my hands. Love was with me when I felt safe in your arms. Love was with me when I was reading Murakami. Love was with me the first time I wrote poetry. Love was with me when my best friend told me she would never leave me. I didn’t know why Love came, but I didn’t want Love to leave. But just like everyone and everything else, Love wasn’t meant to last.


And so heartbreak came. I met Heartbreak two summers ago when you told me you would leave me. Heartbreak was with me when I saw you with someone else that wasn’t me. Heartbreak was with me when I wasn’t accepted at my dream school. Heartbreak was with me when I didn’t win the poetry contest I worked hard for. Heartbreak was with me when my best friend suddenly became a stranger. Heartbreak was with me when I saw sadness and disappoint in my mother’s eyes. Heartbreak was a ****** person. I couldn’t wait Heartbreak to leave. But Heartbreak was with me a little longer than I wanted Heartbreak to be. And when Heartbreak will finally leave, I asked a question emotionally, “Are you related to Loneliness or what?” and Heartbreak responded, “No. As much as I’m the opposite, I’m the twin of Love.”


And a beautiful person named Hope came. Hope came when the storm was finally over. Hope was with me when I decided to write again. Hope was with me when I see people believing in my strength. Hope was with me when I looked in the mirror and told myself, “I can survive all of this.” Hope was with me when I watched the film Dead Poets Society. Hope was with me when I saw the most genuine smiles of my family. Hope was with me when I helped myself and became better. Hope was with me when I found myself. And I was hoping Hope would never leave.


But then I learned the truth about these 6 people. These 6 people, they leave, and they come back, in no particular order. Happiness came back when I made my family proud. Happiness came back when I met you. And suddenly Loneliness arrived again in the middle night, but good thing I was stronger now and I made Loneliness leave sooner. Nostalgia came again when I heard this one song that reminded me of my friends. And then Love, Love was here again. And Love confessed, “I am the only one who can be with you always, but sometimes another person makes you feel something more. I was with you since the beginning. I am with you every time you’re with your family and friends. No matter what you’re feeling, I am with you every time you’re with the people that mean so much to you.” And the horrible person named Heartbreak came back again, and as usual, it was ****. But I’m starting to accept Heartbreak’s presence. And I’m currently with Hope. I was with Hope when I attended my first rally last year, when I saw the people who can help change the world and make it a better place. Hope is with me every time I see people who help each other, even if they don’t know each other personally, even if they knew each other on the internet. Hope is with me when I see people never giving up. Hope is with me while I’m writing this piece. And when I knew the truth about these 6 people, I accepted it. I accepted the people I don’t want to leave will do, and the people I don’t want to come back will do. I accepted they’re always here. I accepted they will be here unexpectedly, I accepted that any of them will come sooner or later. And when that time comes, I will greet the person, whoever the person is, “Welcome back.”


*(k.b)

Loneliness.
What is it?
It is a concept we so rarely describe in detail.
We've made up a specific word for it-
Three little syllables-
Just so that we can say it and be done with it,
And escape the contemplation.
But I know my own loneliness cannot be captured,
Cannot be encompassed,
By merely the word.
What is loneliness?
It comes in all shapes and sizes,
A space,
A lack,
That can be big or small,
Sudden or excruciatingly slow,
Sharp or fuzzy at the edges.
Hell,
It can even be comforting.
What is it about loneliness that is so insidious?
Harder to rid yourself of than fear
Or anger
Or even such tricky, barbed things as doubt
Or hope,
That stick.
Loneliness doesn't stick.
It seeps.
Steeps.
You stew in it.
It is beginning to occur to me that I don't believe,
Once one realizes loneliness for the first time,
That one is ever truly rid of it again,
Even for a second.
I think it is a permanence that we as a race refuse to acknowledge most of the time.
Some forms of lonely are fairly benign-
The little tingle on the edges of you, when you are home alone and the house is silent,
And for no apparent reason at all-
No sadness, no fear, no thought that is particularly unpleasant that you must drown out-
You nonetheless feel the compulsion to switch on the television
Even if you won't watch,
Just to break the stillness with a human voice besides your own.
Then there are the darker types, the truly ensnaring ones,
The lonelinesses born of the memory of times when,
Perhaps, you were less lonely,
Or even thought that you had flushed the feeling from your soul entirely.
Loneliness is an otherness,
An alien thing that lives in your heart,
That makes you question whether there is anyone out there who would have you
If they knew
What was on the inside.
There is the type of loneliness that creeps up on you and follows nipping at your heels like a shadow on the pavement as you move through your day,
Reminding you, whispering in your ear that here you felt less alone, and there, and that those places are full now,
Of emptiness,
Because those times have passed and not had the courtesy to clean up their cobwebs-
Memories linger in certain little spots, and collect like dust little pockets of loneliness that grab you all of a sudden,
The way forgotten spiderwebs stick in your hair as you move through an old house.
This type is jarring, disturbing, and
Afterwards I always feel the desperate need to wash away the feeling,
Scrub myself down.
There is the breed of loneliness that is a bit more genteel,
And curls cold at your feet like a well trained dog,
Formal and subtle, but constant,
Watching.
This is the sort that makes you feel just somewhat hunted,
When you try to sit in silence by a fire at night in your living room
And find that you must read a book to drive the stillness from your head.
There is the truly hollow kind,
The kind that has no courtesy whatsoever,
And actually slithers into you, inhabiting your heart and stomach and bones
As you try to fall asleep
With ice.
It is this kind that, if it is strong enough
(and you are weak enough)
For it to remain until morning
Forbids even the smallest human touch-
Every gesture of tenderness from another person
Makes this loneliness increase,
Every embrace, every handshake, every accidental contact of skin
Becomes unbearable,
And the afflicted shies away,
Perpetuating a cycle of vicious disconnection.
They all leave a little something cold, even when they recede,
In the core of you, that won't be dislodged no matter what you try.
Loneliness,
Like a cancer,
Can only be considered in remission,
And never truly cured.
For when given room to prosper even for the space of a second it expands and swallows up your thoughts
Until they whither with frostbite.
I suppose I shouldn't be shocked-
As humans we live side by side, arms linked with
Most of the things that will eventually **** us,
What's one more, cozying up inside our skulls,
Inside our hearts?
We have a partnership-
An entirely human concept-
With all that destroys us.
And so we live with out loneliness, like a second shadow.
What is loneliness?
I am still unsure.
I can only describe what loneliness does,
Not what it is.
*I think that maybe to understand it
Would be to die of it.

Loneliness is trapped between two worlds,
Loneliness becomes bitter,
When left alone too long,
Loneliness hangs around, even when thought to be gone,
Loneliness is still there in a crowded room,
Loneliness never sleeps,
Loneliness has no boundaries,  
Loneliness can never be appeased,
Loneliness wants to feel alive again,
Loneliness can wear many faces,
However,
An exorcism will not get rid of loneliness,
A psychic cannot tell what loneliness wants,
Loneliness cannot be seen through,
And Loneliness does not last forever.

Loneliness Is Wishing To Cry

Can we really control our loneliness when it attacks? Of course not. However, we can employ the means by which to channel it into a positive force. A force whereby we recruit others and together battle this power of the dark side attempting to cajole us into this state of melancholy. We have to collectively rise to the occassion, and with the force of Good, vanquish it forever more.

Here is a short poem about what loneliness means to me. It was written at a time in my life when I was trying to deal with the recent death of a close family member. Needless to say, I was most devasted at the time of this writing. This poem at that time, in reflection, acted as a therapeutic means for me to "get it all out".

Loneliness is despair
Loneliness is something to beware
Loneliness is the thought today
of no tomorrow

Loneliness is wishing to cry
without knowing why
Loneliness is a simple feeling
without a simple answer

Loneliness comes
Loneliness goes
Loneliness is that uninvited guest
who visits, always without a request

Loneliness is a sickness
you my friend are the cure
Together we will strengthen
and together we will endure.....

Loneliness is a dark room
Waiting for light to be shed
Loneliness is the last of us
Reaching for companionship
Loneliness is the worst torture
With no contact what so ever
Loneliness is a prison cell
With no daylight to shine on your face
Loneliness...
Can never be forgotten
Though, loneliness...
Can be ridden of the mind
Loneliness is weak
Loneliness is pathetic
Loneliness is but a dark room that can be bright with but a simple light
Loneliness is but a man that can be brought from the depths of despair with just a companion
Loneliness is but a prison cell that can be made hopeful with a simple
Crack in the wall
A crack
To the outside world
A crack to experience sunlight
A crack to the fresh outside air of the vast open world
Loneliness...
Is nothing but a dark room

"Contentment is a synonym for loneliness, cool loneliness, settling down with cool loneliness. We give up believing that being able to escape our loneliness is going to bring any lasting happiness or joy or sense of well-being or courage or strength. Usually we have to give up this belief about a billion times, again and again making friends with our jumpiness and dread, doing the same old thing a billion times with awareness. Then without our even noticing, something begins to shift. We can just be lonely with no alternatives, content to be right here with the mood and texture of what’s happening."

"it allows us to finally discover a completely unfabricated state of being. Our habitual assumptions — all our ideas about how things are — keep us from seeing anything in a fresh, open way… We don’t ultimately know anything. There’s no certainty about anything. This basic truth hurts, and we want to run away from it. But coming back and relaxing with something as familiar as loneliness is good discipline for realizing the profundity of the unresolved moments of our lives. We are cheating ourselves when we run away from the ambiguity of loneliness."

"Cool loneliness allows us to look honestly and without aggression at our own minds. We can gradually drop our ideals of who we think we ought to be, or who we think we want to be, or who we think other people think we want to be or ought to be. We give it up and just look directly with compassion and humor at who we are. Then loneliness is no threat and heartache, no punishment. Cool loneliness doesn’t provide any resolution or give us ground under our feet. It challenges us to step into a world of no reference point without polarizing or solidifying. This is called the middle way, or the sacred path of the warrior."

by Pema Chodron from "When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advise for Difficult Times"

Loneliness is a pain,
Not the pain of a knife cutting through skin, sinews, muscles,and drawing blood.
Not the pain of a tooth in your mouth throbbing and sending shocks of horrors through highways of swollen nerves..
Not a fatal pain of a dying cell being devoured by a cancerous growth that thrives on the death and the pain of the very cells that produces its been.
Not the pain of the prisoner s body been tortured by men who see no wrong or feel no shame as they insert sharp hot instruments into natural and man made orifices in their captives helpless, hopeless bodies.
Not the pain of age as the body's functions start their natural march towards unreliability , Hips, knees knuckles, elbows and all the other joints as they  begin to slowly dry up and rub  against each other like stones rolling down a hillside.
Not the pain of hearts slowing, livers hardening,lungs wheezing like ripped accordians bellows .
Not the pain of childbirth.
Not the pain of accidents that show no fairness to the person in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Not the pain of self inflicted wounds that can fool you into thinking that that pain is the answer to your  problems.
Not the pain of the young healthy times when the body, and mind  could accept it and overcome it
  Not the pain of hunger or thirst.

Loneliness is the pain of the soul .
Loneliness is the pain of dreams that are dreamt when your asleep and when you'r awake.
Loneliness is the pain of memories . Some half  forgotten some that are so clear you could almost touch them.
Some you'd rather forget.
Some you would spend the rest of your life reliving over and over again.
Loneliness is the pain that  at times can be part relieved momentarily  through the bottom of a whiskey bottle or a point of a syringe filled with a concoction of juices from plants poisonous to both the body and the soul.
Loneliness can never be cured by earthly things. Loneliness is a pain that can only find peace through a kinderd spirit.
   Pat Rooney 2013

What is loneliness?
Loneliness is a feeling,
a human emotion.

What is loneliness?
Loneliness is coming home,
and no one is there.

What is loneliness?
Loneliness is laying awake,
with no one beside you.

What is loneliness?
Loneliness is having no one,
no one to love.

What is loneliness?
Loneliness is a feeling,
a broken heart and soul.

I'm lonely...

It's easy to hear the loneliness in her voice
As she speaks she has no one to talk about, there's just no choice

She talks about the good old days
Filled with love and compassion all was just a faze

Loneliness is when you cry
There's no one there to make her smile or dry her eyes

No one to help with the demons inside her head
No one to subside the discomfort of pain from deep inside

The demons are here to prey on the misguided brain
She continues to hide her pain

Only to give into the loneliness of despair
Her loneliness has only become a reality because nobody cares

Trying to fade away loneliness has taken its toll
On her soul

Sound of loneliness is silent
She doesn't hear the birds singing with great talent

She doesn't feel the sun shining
People pass her by as if she doesn't exist so she starts declining

She wishes her heart could love again highly unlikely loneliness has become her only way of life
She remains unable to feel due to the coldness in her heart stuck by a knife

Me - why sometimes I like to be with you?
My loneliness - because sometimes people be tired of crowd and want to be with me.
Me - And why so?
I have always heard that you are bad because you always bring sadness.
My loneliness - that's not true. I never bring sadness. When the people are rejected or dejected by someone then they want to be with me. It's not me who have gave them sadness but because of sadness they come to be with me.
Me - Yes,  you are right. But am not rejected or dejected then why I am liking to be with you?
My loneliness - because you are tired of this fake and crowded world. And when the people get tired of crowd and fake smile on their lips they want to be with me. But they can't live with me always. Not even you, because in this big world all need someone.
Me - but that will be selfishness to be with you only in sadness and then blame you for their sadness.
My loneliness - it's not someone's faults. I am guest here. And guests are never mean to be stay forever.
Me - but a friend can stay together
My loneliness - means?
Me - means by living separately also a friend are there for you always
And whenever I will need you be with me and whenever you will need me I will be with you always.
My loneliness - you can promise it?  Because it's easy to say but hard to do
Me - it's hard but not impossible and promises are never meant to be broken
My loneliness - OK so we are friends?
Me - yes we are friends forever
My loneliness - yes forever and ever
And thank you for being my friend and for understanding me
Me - you are always be welcome

The levels of loneliness of a poet of longevity
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The levels of loneliness of a poet of longevity.
Have I been there today ? But it’s easy to be.
Ever heard the expression “ idle hands n devil”

Loneliness fills the empty void if you are idle
Expanding loneliness to fill that barren space
Virtual reality I know that’s not the answer
Ever watched the kids these days at play ?
Levels of loneliness expand within availability
See when spare time gathers you start to feel

Occasionally being reminded of those bygones
Friends and family you’ll not see again is real.

Let that not bring you down, try meditation.
Only then can you believe you are in control
Not giving yourself time to be at all maudlin
Each day loneliness can be kept at bay.
Loneliness is a dull sloth that can be tamed
In not letting things get to you in any way.
Not giving up to the inevitability of old age.
Even if bits keep falling off your body ev’y day
Stoop n build ‘em up again with worn fingers
So many times in life you seem to hit the rocks

Oh yes I know ,you say , “ tell me how you feel”
Feelings ? Well I’m pretty sure you’ll fill y’socks

Anyway , they all can see that you’re still real

Poets are a very special breed of person.
On a scale of one to ten I guess a nine.
Experience fills their minds to overflowing
To the point where they’ll burst or put it right

On that occasion best sit an’ write a poem
Friends can then receive it straight overnight

Love each friend you have “Without condition”
Only then can see that friendship is alright
Nothing ventured,nothing gained , a fine ideal.
God granted us the sacred power to choose
Ethereal guides stand there in our background
Vicissitudinous opportunity presents itself.
I as a poet and friend  I know this to be true.
True as the nose upon a happy poets face.
Yours is the life , yours the opportunity anew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip
November 18th 2018.

Worst part of loneliness is being without you
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Worst part of loneliness is being without you.
On most days I can fill my life with something
Rather than nothing or feeling sorry for myself
Sorry that now my Darling has gone pain free
Trouble is that we thought we’d live forever

Pausing seldom to think of a reality of ageing
Ageing is deadly. Parts wear out and die off
Reality dawns on us too late. Missed the bus
Typically missed spent youth comes to haunt

On those occasions when tobacco was king
From that day on. The fuse had been lit.

Loneliness now is your legacy to me as I lay
On those days in Queensland when it pours
Never in small droplets. No it really rains. !!  
Engulfing the storm drains and rivers n lakes
Like the whole heavens are crying “She’s gone
I ache from the loneliness. I am so missing you
Now I appear to the outside world I cope well
Every holistic solution know to man do I try
So many all the days of the week do I count
Some say they are a great remedy for grief

I argue not ,I think this does work well for me
So in my opinion the loneliness is the worst

Because you were always there to praise me
Exciting my day by your loving exclamation
I love you my darling , I love you , do you know
No doubt in our minds. We loved each other.
God knows how long he plans for me to suffer

Worst part of loneliness is being without you.
I start my day with a sort of positive stance.
Thinking I know exactly what’s in store today.
Having logged all appointments methodically
Only I do it alone. So very alone , very alone.
Unless I come to grips with this I’ll be very sad
Though I hate the loneliness this without you.

You my darling meant so very much to me.
Only through the tribute do I place thoughts
Unnecessary for anyone but you to hear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip. 12 th October 2018.
It’s getting easier at November 26th 2018
With the aid of Gods guidance and Poetry

"Akelaapan" v/s"Aikaant" - from the Holy Gita :-

Here goes a humble translation......

Loneliness v/s Solitude

●"अकेलापन'"इस संसार में सबसे बड़ी सज़ा है.!
                 और "'एकांत"
   इस संसार में सबसे बड़ा वरदान.!!

Loneliness is the biggest punishment in this world!
And
Solitude is the biggest gift/blessing!!

      ● ये दो समानार्थी दिखने वाले
               शब्दों के अर्थ में
    आकाश पाताल का अंतर है।

These two words appear so similar, yet cannot be more apart, like heaven and hell !

      ● "अकेलेपन"में छटपटाहट है
         तो "एकांत"में आराम है।

Loneliness is suffering, and Solitude is relaxing!

        ● "अकेलेपन" में घबराहट है
             तो "एकांत" में शांति।

Loneliness is fear and solitude is Shanti/peace!

         ●  जब तक हमारी नज़र
     बाहरकी ओर है तब तक हम.
    "अकेलापन" महसूस करते हैं

Till we look for solace in the outer world we will experience Loneliness!

                       और
  ● जैसे ही नज़र भीतर की ओर मुड़ी
   तो "एकांत"अनुभव होने लगता है।

But when you look for it within you, you start experiencing solitude!

        ●  ये जीवन और कुछ नहीं
                     वस्तुतः
      "अकेलेपन" से "एकांत" की ओर
              एक यात्रा ही है.!!

This life is nothing but a journey from loneliness to solitude!

           ●   ऐसी "यात्रा" जिसमें
    रास्ता भी हम हैं, "राही" भी हम हैं
    और "मंज़िल"भी हम ही हैं.!!

**A journey, in which the path is us, the traveller is also us and so is the destination!

Poem written by Philip October 12th 2018     Ref 026. An Acrostic:
Worst part of loneliness is being without you
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Worst part of loneliness is being without you.
On most days I can fill my life with something
Rather than nothing or feeling sorry for myself
Sorry that now my Darling has gone pain free
Trouble is that we thought we’d live forever

Pausing seldom to think of a reality of ageing
Ageing is deadly. Parts wear out and die off
Reality dawns on us too late. Missed the bus
Typically missed spent youth comes to haunt

On those occasions when tobacco was king
From that day on. The fuse had been lit.

Loneliness now is your legacy to me as I lay
On those days in Queensland when it pours
Never in small droplets. No it really rains. !!  
Engulfing the storm drains and rivers n lakes
Like the whole heavens are crying “She’s gone
I ache from the loneliness. I am so missing you
Now I appear to the outside world I cope well
Every holistic solution know to man do I try
So many all the days of the week do I count
Some say they are a great remedy for grief

I argue not ,I think this does work well for me
So in my opinion the loneliness is the worst

Because you were always there to praise me
Exciting my day by your loving exclamation
I love you my darling , I love you , do you know
No doubt in our minds. We loved each other.
God knows how long he plans for me to suffer

Worst part of loneliness is being without you.
I start my day with a sort of positive stance.
Thinking I know exactly what’s in store today.
Having logged all appointments methodically
Only I do it alone. So very alone , very alone.
Unless I come to grips with this I’ll be very sad
Though I hate the loneliness this without you.

You my darling meant so very much to me.
Only through the tribute do I place thoughts
Unnecessary for anyone but you to hear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip. 12 th October 2018.

There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the blinking of frail eye.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the chitter-chatter of every tongue.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it behind the face grinning like a Cheshire cat.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the amble of every feet.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the shadow of a carcass.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the agony of every single soul.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the anecdote of every man jack's life .

between the breaths, the boredom, the blues, the *****
the smokes, the sacrifices, the smiles, the sadness, the snooze
the poems, the problems, the pros and the cons
the needles, the nobodies, the neurotics, the loose
the careless, the fearless, the dreamless, who knows
the tulip, the lilac, the jasmine, the rose
the suns, the moons, the earth, the birth
the nights, the fights, the lies arise
the loneliness
among the hate, the fate, the date delayed
the loneliness
along the tongue, a song, wrong, wrong
the loneliness
inside the heart, a part apart, from the start
the loneliness, the loneliness, the loneliness...

"and the crowd, so many people,
and the cries, the laughs, the whispers...
Too many mouths talking in my ear, my left ear
Is it the chaos of unphysical presences ?
But I touch them, I see them, I hear them...
And nobody is here" -- Myra


-- Watercolour

my loneliness is larger than me
heavier, too
my loneliness the thick blanket
good for hiding under
my loneliness shields me from demons in the dark
but provides no warmth
my loneliness a cold fire I still sit beside
palms upturned, craving peace
my loneliness the war that rages unending
bodies left in a ****** wake
my loneliness the vultures swirling
I have never been very strong
my loneliness knows this, as she knows
all my other bitter secrets
my loneliness licks her smiling lips
opens her screaming maw
my loneliness is larger than me
deadlier, too

Zen Death Haiku & Related Translations of Oriental Poems

In what may be called "Zen death haiku" and other forms of jisei (death poems), life on earth is often compared to dew, to a wind-blown petal, to a tree shedding its leaves, to an empty shell, to melting snow or ice, etc.

Brittle cicada shell,
little did I know
that you were my life!
—Shuho (?-1767), loose translation 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

Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops:
flashes of light
briefly illuminating the void.
—Ouchi Yoshitaka, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch

Like dew glistening
on a lotus leaf,
so too I soon must vanish.
—Shinsui (1720-1769), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Let this body
be dew
in a field of wildflowers.
—Tembo (1740-1823), loose translation 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

Like a lotus leaf’s evaporating dew,
I vanish.
—Senryu (-1827), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch

This world?
Moonlit dew
flicked from a crane's bill.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen (1200-1253) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Seventy-one?
How long
can a dewdrop last?
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch

Dewdrops beading grass-blades
die before dawn;
may an untimely wind not hasten their departure!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dewdrops beading blades of grass
have so little time to shine before dawn;
let the autumn wind not rush too quickly through the field!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Outside my window the plums, blossoming,
within their curled buds, contain the spring;
the moon is reflected in the cup-like whorls
of the lovely flowers I gather and twirl.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To what shall we compare this world?
To moonlit dew
flicked from a crane’s bill.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, 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

Unaware it protects
the hilltop paddies,
the scarecrow seems useless to itself.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, 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 by Michael R. Burch

Like blocks in the icehouse,
unlikely to last
the year out...
—Sentoku (1661-1726), loose translation 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 by Michael R. Burch

Having been summoned,
I say farewell
to my house beneath the moon.
—Takuchi (1767-1846), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Learn to accept the inevitable:
the fall willow
knows when to abandon its leaves.
—Tanehiko (1782-1842), loose translation 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

White plum blossoms―
though the hour grows late,
a glimpse of dawn
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The poem above is believed to be Buson's jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn.

Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is a second interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem).

In the deepening night
I saw by the light
of the white plum blossoms
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is a third interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem).

Returning
as it came,
this naked worm.
—Shidoken (?-1765), loose translation 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

I wish only to die
swiftly, with my eyes
fixed on Mount Fuji.
—Rangai (1770-1845), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

A strident cricket
accompanies me
through autumn mountains.
—Shiko (1788-1845), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The cherry orchard’s owner
becomes compost
for his trees.
—Utsu (1813-1863), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Autumn ends,
the frogs find their place
in the earth.
—Shogetsu (1829-1899), loose translation 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 by Michael R. Burch

I entered the world empty-handed
and now leave it barefoot.
My coming & going?
Two uncomplicated events
that became entangled.
—Kozan Ichikyo (1283-1360), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Brittle autumn leaves
crumble to dust
in the freezing wind.
—Takao (?-1660), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This frigid season
nothing but the shadow
of my corpse survives.
—Tadatomo (1624-1676), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

My life was mere lunacy
until
the moon shone tonight.
Tokugen (1558-1647), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

“Isn’t it time,”
the young bride asks,
“to light the lantern?”
Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

With the departing year
I have hidden my graying hair
from my parents.
Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I wish to die
under the spring cherry blossoms
and April’s full moon.
Ochi Etsujin (1656-1739), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Once again
the melon-cool moon
rises above the rice fields.
—Tanko (1665-1735), loose translation 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 by Michael R. Burch

Cuckoo, lift
me up
to where clouds drift...
Uko (1686-1743), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Sixty-six,
setting sail through tranquil waters,
a breeze-blown lotus.
Usei (1698-1764), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Is it me the raven screeches for
from the spirit world
this frigid morning?
—Shukabo (1717-1775), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

To prepare for my voyage beyond,
let me don
a gown of flowers.
—Setsudo (1715-1776), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

From depths
unfathomably cold:
the oceans roar!
—Kasenjo (d. 1776), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Today Mount Hiei’s sky
with a quick change of clouds
also removes its robes.
Shogo (1731-1798), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I cup curious ears
among the hydrangeas
hoping to hear the spring cuckoo.
—Senchojo (?-1802), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Life,
is it not like
a charcoal sketch, an obscure shadow?
—Toyokuni (?-1825), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Bitter winter winds...
but later, river willow,
remember to open your buds!
—Senryu (1717-1790), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

A fall willow tree:
unlikely to be missed
as much as the cherry blossoms.
—Senryu II (?-1818), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

My path
to Paradise
is bright with flowers.
—Sokin (?-1818), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

A willow branch
unable to reach the water
at the bottom of the vase.
—Shigenobu (?-1832), loose translation 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?
****** delusions―
Death is death!
―Toko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Other haiku translations …



Masaoka Shiki

The night flies!
My life,
how much more of it remains?
―Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), 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

After killing a spider,
how lonely I felt
in the frigid night.
―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

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 me as I lay in bed!
― Masaoka Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As thunder recedes
a lone tree stands illuminated in sunlight:
applauded by cicadas
― Masaoka Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Yosa Buson haiku translations

On the temple’s great bronze gong
a butterfly
snoozes.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hard to describe:
this light sensation of being pinched
by a butterfly!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Not to worry spiders,
I clean house ... sparingly.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Among the fallen leaves,
an elderly frog.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In an ancient well
fish leap for mosquitoes,
a dark sound.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Flowers with thorns
remind me of my hometown ...
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Reaching the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate ...
―Yosa Buson, 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

Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A silk robe, casually discarded,
exudes fragrance
into the darkening evening
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Whose delicate clothes
still decorate the clothesline?
Late autumn wind.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is an example of a translation in which I interpreted the poem before translating it. In the original poem the clothes were thin (suggesting suggestive garments). In Japanese poetry an autumn wind can represent loneliness. So I interpreted the poem to be about an aging woman who still wears enticing clothes but is increasingly lonely. Since in the West we don't normally drape clothes on screens, I moved the clothes to a clothesline, which works well with the wind. For me it's a sad poem about something that happens all too often to people as they age.

An evening breeze:
water lapping the heron’s legs.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

gills puffing,
a hooked fish:
the patient
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The stirred morning air
ruffles the hair
of a caterpillar.
―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

Tender grass
forgetful of its roots
the willow
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I believe the poem above can be taken as commentary on ungrateful children. It reminds me of Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays."―MRB

Since I'm left here alone,
I'll make friends with the moon.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The hood-wearer
in his self-created darkness
misses the harvest moon
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

White blossoms of the pear tree―
a young woman reading his moonlit letter
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The pear tree flowers whitely:
a young woman reading his letter
by moonlight
―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

A misty spring moon ...
I entice a woman
to pay it our respects
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Courtesans
purchasing kimonos:
plum trees blossoming
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The spring sea
rocks all day long:
rising and falling, ebbing and flowing ...
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As the whale
    dives
its tail gets taller!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

While tilling the field
the motionless cloud
vanished.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Even lonelier than last year:
this autumn evening.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My thoughts return to my Mother and Father:
late autumn
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Late autumn:
my thoughts return to my Mother and Father
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This roaring winter wind:
the cataract grates on its rocks.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

While snow lingers
in creases and recesses:
flowers of the plum
―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

In the lingering heat
of an abandoned cowbarn
only the sound of the mosquitoes is dark.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The red plum's fallen petals
seem to ignite horse ****.
―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

The abandoned willow shines
between bright rains
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dew-damp grass:
the setting sun’s tears
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The dew-damp grass
weeps silently
in the setting sun
―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

The poem above is believed to be Buson's jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn.

Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is a second interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem).

In the deepening night
I saw by the light
of the white plum blossoms

―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is a third interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem).

Our life here on earth:
to what shall we compare it?
Perhaps to a rowboat
departing at daybreak,
leaving no trace of us in its wake?
—Takaha Shugyo or Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch



Matsuo Basho

The legs of the cranes
have been shortened
by the summer rains.
―Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), 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

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

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



Kobayashi Issa

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

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
and the village is flooded with children!
―Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

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

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
***** 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

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.”



Other Poets

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


New Haiku Translations, 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’***** 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.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

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

Stricken 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  

This world—
to what may we compare it?
To autumn fields
lying 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
 
Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops
in which flashes of light
briefly illuminate the void.
—Ôuchi Yoshitaka (1507-1551), 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

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
away as all things do:
dew drying on grass.
—Banzan (-1730), 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  

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 *****.
— Getsurei (-1919), loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch  



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, 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, 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, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water ...
Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
Masaoki Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
Masaoki Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As girls gather rice sprouts
reflections of the rain ripple
on the backs of their hats.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch


* Haiku translations added 6-3-2023 *


Spring
stirs the clouds
in the sky's teabowl
—Kikusha-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Tonight I saw
how the peony crumples
in the fire's embers
—Katoh Shuhson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

It fills me with anger,
this moon; it fills me
and makes me whole
—Takeshita Shizunojo, loose translation 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 by Michael R. Burch

Pale mountain sky:
cherry petals play
as they tumble earthward
—Kusama Tokihiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The frozen moon,
the frozen lake:
two oval mirrors reflecting each other.
—Hashimoto Takako, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The bitter winter wind
ends here
with the frozen sea
—Ikenishi Gonsui, 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

The lamp extinguished,
once-distant stars
enter my window.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Winter waves
roil
their own shadows
—Tominaga Fûsei, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

No sky,
no land:
just snow eternally falling...
—Kajiwara Hashin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Along with spring leaves
my child's teeth
take root, blossom
—Nakamura Kusatao, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Stillness:
a single chestnut leaf glides
on brilliant water
—Ryuin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The snake slipped away
but his eyes, holding mine,
still stare in the grass
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Girls gather rice sprouts:
reflections of the water flicker
on the backs of their hats
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Murmurs follow the hay cart
this blossoming summer day
—Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The wet nurse
paused to consider a bucket of sea urchins
then walked away
—Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

May I be with my mother
wearing her summer kimono
by the morning window
—Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The hands of a woman exist
to remove the entrails of the spring cuttlefish
—Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The moon
hovering above the snow-capped mountains
rained down hailstones
—Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, dreamlike winter butterfly:
a puff of white snow
cresting mountains
—Kakio Tomizawa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Spring snow
cascades over fences
in white waves
—Suju Takano, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

First one hidden face is revealed,
then the other; thus spinning it falls,
the autumn leaf.
—Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation 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) , translation by Michael R. Burch

The thief missed it:
the moon
bejeweling my window.
—Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation by Michael R. Burch

This world:
a distant mountain echo
dying unheard...
—Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation by Michael R. Burch

The peonies I planted around my hut
I must now surrender
to the wind's will
—Ryokan (1758-1831) , translation 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) , translation 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) , translation by Michael R. Burch

Observe:
see how the wild violets bloom
within the forbidden fences!
—Shida Yaba (1663-1740) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A white swan
parts the cherry-petalled pond
with her motionless breast.
—Roka (1671-1703) , translation by Michael R. Burch

When no wind ruffles the Kiri tree
            leaves fall
of their own free will.
—Nozawa Boncho (1640-1714) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Loneliness:
striking the gong again and again,
the lookout.
—Hara Sekitei (1886-1951) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sleeping alone;
a mosquito interrupts my dreams
with its querulous voice...
—Chigetsu (1632-1706) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The rain is helpless
to reach the ground—
a winter gale
—Mukai Kyorai (c.1651-1704) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch

A cat in heat
can't catch a mouse? —
pathetic!
—Kinpu (? -1726?) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch

It's getting to the point
of ******* on fish bones—
old age.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I ****** an ant
then realize my three children
were watching.
—Shuson Kato (1905-1933) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My three children
watched me ****** an ant.
—Shuson Kato (1905-1933) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As the moon rises
the rooftop tomcat
philosophizes.
Ikuyo Yoshimura (1944-) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Changing my lipstick's pastels—
spring rain.
Ikuyo Yoshimura (1944-) , loose translation by Michael R. Burch

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'***** the road again,
Companion Butterfly!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Higher than a skylark,
resting on the breast of heaven:
this 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.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

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 here 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

Stricken 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 (911-983) , 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



Ôuchi Yoshitaka, his death poem, written in 1551:

1.
Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops:
flashes of light
briefly illuminating the void.

2.
Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops,
lit by flashes of light,
as we apprehend this life.

3.
Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops
in which lightning flashes
briefly illuminate the void.

—Ôuchi Yoshitaka (1507-1551) , 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

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

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

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 too...
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 *****.
— Getsurei (-1919) , loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem)  by Michael R. Burch

Year after year,
the face a monkey faces
is a monkey face.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Haiku scholar Kon Eizo explains: "At a New Year's performance, a monkey's mask worn by a monkey changes nothing, so we repeat the same foolishness each year."

Because it will not melt
we dedicate this ice
to the New Year's dawning sun
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Students with your copybooks:
from whose satchel
shall the New Year spring?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Basking beneath the New Year's sun:
my grubby hut.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Letting in torrents
of New Year's rain:
my leaky hut.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

O, God of the New Year,
this year also,
please have pity!
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

These useless dreams, alas!
Over fields of wilted grass
winds whisper as they pass.
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When a nightingale stops singing,
it's just another bird.
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A nightingale, when it ceases singing,
is just another ordinary / unexceptional bird.
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The sincerity of snow, the moon and cherry blossoms
is the truthfulness of art.
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Above the garden
the camellia tree blossoms
whitely...
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , explaining the essence of haiku, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Moonlit hailstones:
the night hawks return.
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Nowhere to dump the dishwater:
cricket cacophony.
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A good father
drives away crows
from his sparrow-like children.
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A cool breeze:
the empty sky fills
with the songs of the pines.
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Return my dream, raven!
You woke me to a misted-over
unreadable moon
—Uejima Onitsura (1660-1738) , said to be his death poem, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Tears are useless:
insects, lovers, the stars themselves
must part.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sparrow-like children,
make way, make way!
The stallion's coming through!
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

No one travels
this path but me,
this moonless autumn evening.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lieutenant-General Tomoyuki Yamashita wrote this poem on December 4,1941, while sailing for Hainan to invade Malaya.

Now, as the sun and moon shine as one,
the arrow, hurtling from the bow,
speeds my spirit toward the enemy,
bearing also a hundred million souls
—my people of the East—
as the sun and moon shine as one.
—Tomoyuki Yamashita, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Bonfires for the dead?
Soon they'll light pyres
for us, instead.
—Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Children delight
in bonfires
for the dead;
soon they'll light
pyres
for us, instead.
—Issa, 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

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

Full moon—
my ramshackle hut
is an open book.
Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827) , 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

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

Peonies blossom;
the world is full of fibbers.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Peonies blossom;
the world is full of blooming liars.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Overdressed for my thatched hut:
a peony blossoms.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, magnificent peony,
please don't disdain
these poor surroundings!
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Insolent peony!
Demanding I measure your span
with my fan?
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

'This big! '
The child's arms
measured the peony.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Issa seemed to have a love-hate relationship with the peony, writing at least 84 haiku about the flower, sometimes praising it and sometimes accusing it of haughtiness and insolence!

The rutting cat
has grown so scrawny
he's nothing but eyes.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Clinging to each other
beneath an umbrella:
spring rain.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Twos become one:
butterflies.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

No rain
and yet the flowers glisten?
Dew.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Buzzings encircle
a meditating monk:
mosquitoes.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

He's lost so much weight
in the summer heat
even the mosquitoes won't bite.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Autumn's here, crickets,
whether you chirp
or not.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A windy temple:
coins clatter
in the collection box.
—Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

After death
six feet under the frost
will be sufficient cover.
—Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Midwinter thunder
rattles the windowpanes.
—Shuson Kato, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



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

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,
remain
—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/ ****-taiju

“Cawa-cawa!”
The winter crow
elocutes coarsely.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Kawa kawa to/ Ookiku yuruku/ Samu-garasu


Keywords/Tags: Haiku, Zen, Japan, Japanese, translation, life, death, aging, time, pain, sorrow, lament



ORIGINAL HAIKU BY MICHAEL R. BURCH

Incomprehensible
by Michael R. Burch

for the NRA

“Slain” — an impossible word to comprehend.
The male lion murders cubs,
licks his lips, devours them.


As springs’ budding blossoms emerge
the raptors glide mercilessly.
—Michael R. Burch

I wrote the haiku-like poem above on 3-27-2023 after the Nashville Covenant school massacre.—Michael R. Burch



You rise with the sun,
mysteriously warm,
also scattering sunbeams.
—Michael R. Burch

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

Celebrate the New Year?
The cat is not impressed,
the dogs shiver.
―Michael R. Burch

Brittle autumn leaf,
no one informed me
you were my life!
—Michael R. Burch

Valentine Haiku #1
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

A leaf brushes my cheek:
a subtle lover’s
gentlest caress.

Valentine Haiku #2
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

Teach me to love:
to fly beyond sterile Mars
to percolating Venus.

The Ultimate Haiku Against God
by Michael R. Burch

Because you made a world
where nothing matters,
our hearts lie in tatters.

Early robins
get the worms,
cats waiting to pounce.
—Michael R. Burch

Sleepyheads!
I recite my haiku
to the inattentive lilies.
—Michael R. Burch

Am I really this old,
so many ghosts
beckoning?
—Michael R. Burch

The sky tries to assume
your eyes’ azure
but can’t quite pull it off.
—Michael R. Burch

The sky tries to assume
your eyes’ arresting blue
but can’t quite pull it off.
—Michael R. Burch

Two bullheaded frogs
croaking belligerently:
election season.
—Michael R. Burch

An enterprising cricket
serenades the sunrise:
soloist.
—Michael R. Burch

A single cricket
serenades the sunrise:
solo violinist.
—Michael R. Burch



New haiku translations added 8-25-2023

Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Ceaseless chaos—
ice floes clash
in the Soya straits.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Once they’ve crossed the sea,
winter winds can never return.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Banish the snow
for the human torpedo
now lies exploded.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

(My interpretation is that the haiku above is about WWII kamikaze pilots. Winter is metaphorically the season of death and snow may be seen as a shroud for the dead. So here the poet may be saying, metaphorically, something like “We don’t need shrouds because our pilots are blowing themselves up.” )

The sky hangs low
over Karafuto,
as white as the spawning herring.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Green bottle flies
buzzing carrion:
did they just materialize?
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Finally
the cicadas stopped shrilling:
calm before gale.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As grief becomes unbearable
someone snaps a nearby branch.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As grief reaches its breaking point
someone snaps a nearby branch.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Trapped in the spider’s web
the firefly’s bulb
blinks out forever.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Trapped in the spider’s web
The firefly’s light
Is swiftly consumed.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Seishi Yamaguchi has been said to represent “a pinnacle of haiku in twentieth-century Japan.”

Graven images of long-departed gods,
dry spiritless leaves:
companions of the temple porch
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

See: whose surviving sons
visit the ancestral graves
white-bearded, with trembling canes?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch



I remove my beautiful kimono:
its varied braids
surround and entwine my body
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This day of chrysanthemums
I shake and comb my wet hair,
as their petals shed rain
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This sheer kimono—
how the moon peers through
to my naked skin!
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

These festive flowery robes—
though quickly undressed,
how their colored cords still continue to cling!
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Chrysanthemum petals
reveal their pale curves
shyly to the moon.
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Loneliness —
reading the Bible
as the rain deflowers cherry blossoms.
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

How deep this valley,
how elevated the butterfly's flight!
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

How lowly this valley,
how lofty the butterfly's flight!
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Echoes from the hills—
the mountain cuckoo sings as it will,
trill upon trill
—Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Winter in the air:
my neighbor,
how does he fare?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let’s arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there's no rice
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Please arrange
these delicate flowers in the bowl
since we lack rice
—Matsuo Basho, translation by Kim Cherub

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 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 first chill rain, so raw!
Poor monkey, you too could use
a woven cape of straw.
—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

This snowy morning:
cries of the crow I despise
(ah, but so beautiful!)
—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

The sea darkening,
the voices of the wild ducks:
my mysterious companions!
—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

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

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, 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, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water ...
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
—Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
—Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

As girls gather rice sprouts
reflections of the rain ripple
on the backs of their hats.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation 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

These wilting August weeds?
The only remains
of warriors' ambitions ...
—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

A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
autumn twilight
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
nightfall
—Matsuo Basho, 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

While a cicada
sings softly
a single leaf falls ...
—Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, brilliant moon
is it true that even you
must rush off, tardy?
—Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, brilliant moon
can it be true
that even you
must rush off, late
for some date?
—Issa, 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

Standing beneath cherry blossoms
who can be strangers?
—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

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

Petals I amass
with such tenderness
***** me to the quick.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Standing unsteadily,
I am the scarecrow’s
skinny surrogate
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Brief autumn breeze ...
she always wanted to pluck
the reddest roses
—Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is a haiku Issa wrote after the death of his daughter Sato with the note: “Sato, girl, 35th day, at the grave.”

In our world
we walk suspended over hell
admiring flowers.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The childless woman,
how tenderly she caresses
homeless dolls ...
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

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

Disdaining grass,
the firefly nibbles nettles—
this is who I am.
—Takarai Kikaku, 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

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

My dear Basho,
I too have been accused
of morning glory gazing!
—original haiku by Michael R. Burch

Taming the rage
of an unrelenting sun—
autumn breeze.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The sun sets,
relentlessly red,
yet autumn’s in the wind.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As autumn deepens,
a butterfly sips
chrysanthemum dew.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As autumn draws near,
so too our hearts
in this small tea room.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Nothing happened!
Yesterday simply vanished
like the blowfish soup.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The surging sea crests around Sado ...
and above her?
An ocean of stars.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Revered figure!
I bow low
to the rabbit-eared Iris.
—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

Nothing in the cry
of the cicadas
suggests they soon 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

The 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

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

A kite floats
at the same place in the sky
where yesterday it floated ...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Not to worry spiders,
I clean house ... sparingly.
—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

Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Thorny roses
remind me of my hometown ...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Nearing the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate ...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

White blossoms of the pear tree:
a young woman
reading her lover’s moonlit letter
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The pear tree flowers whitely:
a young woman reading her lover’s letter
by moonlight
—Yosa Buson, 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

The pigeon's behavior
is beyond reproach,
but the mountain cuckoo's?
—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

On the temple’s great bronze gong
a butterfly
snoozes.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Hard to describe:
this light sensation of being pinched
by a butterfly!
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

gills puffing,
a hooked fish:
the patient
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In an ancient well
fish leap for mosquitoes,
a dark sound.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In the lingering heat
of an abandoned cowbarn
mosquitoes hum darkly.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Among fallen leaves,
an elderly frog.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The stirred morning air
ruffles the caterpillar’s
hair
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Whose delicate clothes
still decorate the clothesline?
Late autumn wind.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Tender grass
forgetful of its roots
the willow
—Yosa Buson, loose translation 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

Intruder!—
This white plum tree
was once outside our fence!
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Since I'm left here alone,
I'll make friends with the moon.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The hood-wearer
in his self-created darkness
misses the harvest moon
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

An evening breeze:
water lapping the heron’s legs.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A misty spring moon ...
I entice a woman
to pay it our respects
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Courtesans
purchasing kimonos:
plum trees blossoming
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

On adjacent branches
the plum tree blossoms
bloom petal by petal: love!
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The red plum's fallen petals
seem to ignite horse ****.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The spring sea
rocks all day long:
rising and falling, ebbing and flowing ...
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

As the whale dives
its tail gets taller!
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

A silk robe, casually discarded,
exudes fragrance
into the darkening evening
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

While tilling the field
the motionless cloud
vanished.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Dew-damp grass:
the setting sun’s tears
—Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
PN-

The dew-damp grass
weeps silently
in the setting sun
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) 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 jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn

In the deepening night
I saw by the light
of the white plum blossoms
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Silently observing
the bottomless mountain lake:
water lilies
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Cranes
flapping ceaselessly
test the sky's upper limits
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Falling snowflakes'
glitter
tinsels the sea
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Blizzards here on earth,
blizzards of stars
in the sky
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Completely encircled
in emerald:
the glittering swamp!
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The new calendar:
as if tomorrow
is assured ...
—Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The new calendar:
as if tomorrow
can be predicted
—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
held my well-bucket hostage
I went begging for water!
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My well-bucket being held hostage
by morning glories,
I went begging for water.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since my well-bucket’s
being held hostage by morning glories,
I go begging for water.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To listen, fine ...
fine also not to echo,
nightingale.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch, she wrote this poem in calligraphy on a portrait of Matsuo Basho

Upon her engagement to the servant of a samurai:

Will it be bitter,
the first time I bite
an unripe persimmon?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Written for her only son, who died:

My little dragonfly hunter:
how far away has he wandered
I wonder?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Her husband died when she was 27 years old:

Rising, I see,
and reclining I see
the web of the mosquito netting ...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

After she had shaved her head, become a nun and retired from public life:

No more
fixing my hair,
merely warming my hands by the fire ...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Leaves
like crows’ shadows
flirt with a lonely moon.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon settled
in a flower-strewn stream
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My elderly parents
become my children:
strident cicadas
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Illuminating
my fishing line:
the midsummer moon.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Auspicious straw!
Even the compost
looks glorious!
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How alarming:
her scarlet fingernails
tending the white chrysanthemums!
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Whatever ...
Leave it to the weather:
withered pampas grass.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Heat waves shimmering
above the wettened rock ...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon:
a morning blur
amid cherry blossoms
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Loneliness
abides within the listener:
the cuckoo’s call
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Skylark,
what do you make
of the trackless sky?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Returning
from moon-viewing:
we humans, voiceless.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The harvest moon
illuminates these snowdrifts
I trample.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How contentedly they snore
in the boondocks:
full moon
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The butterfly tip-toes at ebb-tide
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Along her path
butterflies flit,
front and back
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Voiceless
as a butterfly:
the Buddhist service
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Whirling its wings
the butterfly
creates its own wind ...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The waterweed
washes away
unaware of the butterfly’s weight
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Now and then
a dandelion intrudes
on a butterfly’s dreams
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sometimes a butterfly
emerges from the mist ...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A butterfly settles on
cherry blossoms:
nap time!
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Moonflowers blossom:
a woman’s nakedness
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My painted lips
purified:
crystalline springwater
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A woman’s desire:
the wild violets’
entangled roots
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Her day off:
the ******* wakes
to a frigid morning.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

With the waning moon
silence enters the heart.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We stoop to pick up ebb-tide pebbles.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Ebb-tide:
everything we stoop to collect
slips through our fingers ...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To entangle
or unentangle the willow
is the wind’s will.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Inflating the frog’s belly: looming downpour
Inflating the frog’s belly: pregnant thunderheads
The frog inflates: monsoon soon
The frog inflates: prophet of the deluge
Thunderclouds inflating: the frog’s belly
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Her death poem:

Having seen the moon
I can bid Earth
farewell ...
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Isn’t it good
to wake up alone,
unencumbered?
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

She wakes up
alone,
unencumbered.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Her body-debt paid
she wakes alone—
a frigid night.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Coolness—
strangers meet on a bridge
late at night.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

A woman’s passion
flowers from the roots—
wild violets.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Also a poet arranging words
with its airy wings—
the butterfly.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

It’s child’s play for the cranes
circling the clouds
to celebrate the year’s first sunrise

Cicadas chirp
oblivious to death.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Spring
stirs the clouds
in the sky's teabowl
—Kikusha-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Tonight I saw
how the peony crumples
in the fire's embers
—Katoh Shuhson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

It fills me with anger,
this moon; it fills me
and makes me whole
—Takeshita Shizunojo, loose translation 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 by Michael R. Burch

Pale mountain sky:
cherry petals play
as they tumble earthward
—Kusama Tokihiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The frozen moon,
the frozen lake:
two oval mirrors reflecting each other.
—Hashimoto Takako, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The bitter winter wind
ends here
with the frozen sea
—Ikenishi Gonsui, 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

The lamp extinguished,
once-distant stars
enter my window.
—Natsume Soseki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Winter waves
roil
their own shadows
—Tominaga Fûsei, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

No sky,
no land:
just snow eternally falling ...
—Kajiwara Hashin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Along with spring leaves
my child's teeth
take root, blossom
—Nakamura Kusatao, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Stillness:
a single chestnut leaf glides
on brilliant water
—Ryuin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The snake slipped away
but his eyes, holding mine,
still stare in the grass
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Girls gather rice sprouts:
reflections of the water flicker
on the backs of their hats
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Murmurs follow the hay cart
this blossoming summer day
—Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The wet nurse
paused to consider a bucket of sea urchins
then walked away
—Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

May I be with my mother
wearing her summer kimono
by the morning window
—Ippekiro Nakatsuka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The hands of a woman exist
to remove the entrails of the spring cuttlefish
—Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The moon
hovering above the snow-capped mountains
rained down hailstones
—Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, dreamlike winter butterfly:
a puff of white snow
cresting mountains
—Kakio Tomizawa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Spring snow
cascades over fences
in white waves
—Suju Takano, loose translation by Michael R. Burch



Keywords/Tags: haiku, Japanese, translation, Oriental, imagery, metaphor, nature, coronavirus, plague, life, death, nature

Keywords/Tags: Burch, original haiku, haiku, nature, spring, summer, fall, autumn, winter, Zen, death, Japan, Japanese, translation, life, aging, time, pain, sorrow, lament, mrbhaiku

Loneliness
an edge piece
of a giant puzzle
stuck under the couch

Loneliness
the sixteen year old cat,
too old for happiness,
that has to be put down

Loneliness
that one friend
always canceling
like a tornado drill
becoming a false alarm

Loneliness
a filled room
everyone busy
checking phones
like they're waiting
waitng for orders

Loneliness
craving attention
like it's lemon juice
too sweet in large doses

Loneliness
a flask filled
unknown substance inside
risking life with a sip
like a game of blackjack

The hands of the clock point to one
                                                             (It's one o'clock)
Ah, tonight is just another sleepless night
                                                       (You haven't slept yet)
As always, I only heave a sigh
                                                      (You'r­e sighing, as always)
Holding a fragment of loneliness
                                               (Holding a fragment of loneliness)
Tightly to my heart
                                                     (Tightly to your heart)


I am forlorn, I am alone
                                                           ­    (You're not alone)
Yet I can't bring myself to trust anyone
                              (You just can't bring yourself to trust anyone yet)
If I let my tears flow
                                          (If you let your tears flow)
If I can forgive myself
                                                (If you can forgive yourself)
Will I let go of this fragment of loneliness?
                           (Will you let go of your fragment of loneliness?)


Till we meet,
                                                         (Till we meet,)
I realize for the first time
                                                    (You realize for the first time)
That I can be happy too
                                                     (That you can be happy too)
I can smile, I can love you
                                                 (You can smile, you can love me)
And we can be happy together
                                                  (And we can be happy together)


I'll just tell you now
                                                (I'm telling you now)
Don't leave me
                                                (I will never leave you)
I beg you to stay
                                                (I will stay)
I can't bear to lose you
                                                 (I can't bear to lose you)
Let us be together for eternity
                                               (Let us be together for eternity)


You take my fragment of loneliness away
                                     (I take your fragment of loneliness away)
Creating a new story
                                      (Creating a new story for you)
A new memory to remember
                                       (A new memory of both of us)
Now I finally understand
                                            (I will make you understand)
What is romance.
                                             (What is romance.)

Loneliness quite of house
Death of a mother.
Loneliness lost in time
Death of a lover,
Loneliness mixed emotion
Death of a friend
Loneliness broken of heart
Death of a wife
Loneliness,life so bleak
Is it suicide,which I seek.
Loneliness without a hand
Only the lonely will understand.

people bore me                               loneliness bores me
people drain me                             loneliness drains me
people tire me                                 loneliness tires me
people misunderstand me            loneliness means I misunderstand myself
people ignore me                           loneliness is the epitome of being ignored

I've recently fallen into an elite group of individuals: youth diagnosed with depression by their mothers.

I can't argue with her; she is licensed.

But I can't help but feel that my case is different, minor in comparison. I'd like to call it loneliness but it's more developed than that.

It's like a cancer that started in my fingertips when they realized there was nothing to hold on to, and has since spread to my heart or my brain, whichever is responsible for the distribution of numbness to my bones and vital organs.. I'll call it 3rd stage loneliness. I'm saving calling it the 4th stage for when it starts to feel terminal.

"Lonely" is kind of a **** of a word, like "love," or "beautiful." I think people like to use "lonely" like teens use cigarettes. It taste good when it falls off the tongue. And by my observation, they both cause cancer.

Everyone wants to be "lonely" but no one wants to be alone.
So I've put it upon myself to separate loneliness into subcategories, based on mortality rate.

If you're wondering why I'm lonely, don't bother. I'm wondering the same. I have friends a family that loves me, and the rest of the chemo-esque **** that's suppose to nurture you back to health. But
I've still got that tumor buried under my skin where no one cares to look.

I ain't got many friends I can talk to.

I've concocted a list of side effects of 3rd stage loneliness, if you're interested:
1.) Insomnia - the inability to completely shut the third eye on your skull because it persists on looking to the future.
2.) Selective Hearing - the inability to listen to supposedly happy music and instead sulk with the sounds of Bon Iver or Bright Eyes ricocheting through the canals of your brain. Music your friends "probably haven't heard of"
3.) Loss of Appetite - Don't worry, you still crave food and other survival necessities. You simply lose the appetite to expand through the universe. Loss of Ambition, as the form would say.
4.) Improved Acting Skills - You'll eventually learn to manipulate the stringy muscles in your face to pull up the corners of your lips when you feel you are expected to. Not all side effects are bad.


I am not one of those darkly dressing teenagers that complains with visible angst about being misunderstood. But I do have the hair for it.

I am not suicidal. Maybe I would be, but I seem to have been struck particularly hard by Side Effect #3.

But at first mention of depression you can see their faces squirm and contort to resemble a clumsy soldier tap-dancing through a minefield, while simultaneously conducting open-heart surgery on himself.

5.) Exaggeration.

This poem is not meant to sadden, to depress. It is simply for the public awareness of 3rd stage loneliness. If you know someone suffering from this disease, please call this hotline:

1-800-462-5663
(1-800-IMA-LONE)


The more you know...

Loneliness is a shadowy hand
That reaches deep into the night,
Clutching our hearts, awakening our pain,
Reminding us of our wretched plight
(Without feeling the least bit contrite)

What a cruel master is Loneliness,
Each night it connives with the moon,
Urging her to mock and deride our pain,
While we cry, and our hearts lie in ruin
(To our pain and woe they're both immune)

Born of an evil, uncaring source
Loneliness has but one intent:
To deliver its pain and agony
To our hearts, causing endless torment
(Turning a deaf ear to our lament)

Loneliness can change a smiling face
To one filled with panic and fear;
Tearful eyes that once reflected Love
Tell Loneliness what it longs to hear:
(We have lost the one we held most dear)

But Loneliness has one fearless foe
That always ensures its defeat:
Love appears, rendering its deadly blow,
Knocking Loneliness right off its feet
(What other battle could be as sweet?)

Alas! Loneliness will not be deterred,
It knows the ways of Love are fleeting,
How patiently it waits in the shadows  
To pounce when it sees Love retreating!
(And the dead heart goes right on beating)

Don't waste perfectly good loneliness.

Don't waste it on the wrong person.
Don't even waste it on the right person.

Don't waste loneliness during the day,
When there are things to be done.
Don't waste it in dreams at twilight,
When there are dones to be thinged.

Don't waste loneliness at night
When your time should be your own
And could be filled with anything
Other than everything you're not.

Take your loneliness
And denigrate it.
Crumple it. Crush it.
Throw it in a blender.
An industrial oven.

Take it out
For a few drinks too many,
And a few more after that;
Lull it into a false sense of security
That congeals with its drunken state
To create a blinding dichotomy
Of vulnerability and arrogant invincibility,
So it suspects nothing
As you lead it
Down a dark alley
And beat it to death with a brick.

Have a too-close-to-call
Fight to the death
With your loneliness
In a public toilet,
With it almost getting
The better of you
Until you smash it
Teeth-first
Off of a porcelain
Sink basin,
Before dragging it
By the hair
To a cubicle,
Where you hold its head
Under the toilet water,
Long after its body stops convulsing.

Do what you can
To transmute
Your loneliness
Into solitude,
And wear it.

Inside-out.
Back to front.
Upside-down.
Right side up.

Wear solitude so well that
It ends up wearing you,
As its skin.

Use solitude to learn thyself.
To feel thyself.
To know thy changing self.

Let solitude remind you that
The existence of loneliness
Begets the existence of
The antithesis of loneliness.

So definitely don't waste
Perfectly good loneliness,
Especially if you're forgoing
Perfectly good hope.

Loneliness!

Loneliness!

Creeps into full room unseen.

The fatherless child of loneliness.

Stood up in solitude.

Unnoticed in noisy melee.

Rips a soul to shreds.



A vicious circle.

A cycle of lies.

This near friendless soul.

A choice ingested.

Used to flying solo.

Habitual situation.

Being Alone.



Loneliness eats.

Delicious at times.

Most of the time.

Writing autobiography.

Just moments on a tapestry.

Love is still.

Still and silent.

Need love.

Just doesn’t fit.

Can’t do it.

A self-fulfilling prophecy.

Opulent at times.

Destitute at others.

Upward moving.

Stranded in whole self.

In a world full of nations.

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

My Loneliness

My Loneliness is killing me
No one should have to go through
Something like this;
I could no longer fool myself
or my heart;
Because my heart and mind
reviles what I’m feeling all the time;
Oh, times sea look at me
I am in way too deep;
my pains are cutting me
I’m bleeding out like ink;
this loneliness left me feeling cold
and very alone;
I can no longer bear
it but I know I must,
loneliness make me feel
I have no existence
No self-worth;
a life of a living Hell of true darkness,
out in the cold all alone
trying to make it on my own;
Oh, how my body craves to be loved
But love was never a part of me,
my empty heart needs to free
to love and to be love back,
I had read every book after book
to pass the time;
to easy my nights
to easy my mind
my pains of loneliness remains,
but one day it will go away.

Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery

Loneliness is owner of his house
He hates these walls so much
Can’t rest well, he is scared
Loneliness is sister to fear
It haunts his mind
It ushers in darkness
Loneliness has him thirsty for a drink
Liquor making him sink in quicksand
Give another to the man with the empty eyes
Loneliness devours his soul, isolation
He wanders at night
Staring at stars wondering
Feeling nothingness embrace him
He is wishing for something
Ponders his life, deals with his issues  
He closes his eyes and breathes deep
He needed this…loneliness

loneliness: in my dreams
we go on adventures
you, without a face or a name
travel with me as we raid corporate
offices and write children’s books
and turn tables searching for truth
and liberation
you strike deep roots, deeper roots than I could
ever fathom

sometimes I try to deny you the earth’s blessings
sometimes, loneliness, I try to pull you out from the soil
but I can only claw so deep into the earth before I am tired
sweaty, in the hot sun, the sandy soil sliding back down around
your rootspace

loneliness, you are not the same as despair
loneliness, you are not a perennial
I should let you grow deep and wide, I should let you
take over the entire garden
Do I even have the heart or soul left to grow anything
else this year?

One of these days I might regret stymieing your growth
I would wonder what your blossoms would look and smell like
What your fruit would taste like if I gave
you time to bear it
What nutrients you might leave to nourish a rootspace in my soul
That could be filled with love, laughter and
a future so distant and so near I could know not its name

loneliness: let’s be friends
I’ll leave fear and longing behind and we can bear on
together,
Our cups overfull, our hands acheing with energy
The sand, the soil, into the forest together
We discover a world I would have never known without you
And I will learn to carry you not as a burden but
as a blessing
Since it’s been so long since I’ve known your name
Why would I deny the opportunity
To savor your bittersweet flesh in a hot afternoon?
It will take time,
But I have all the patience in the world

My Loneliness is killing me
keeping my poor heart weeping,
this coldness
of true loneliness
is eating away at me
No one should have to go through life like this.

I could no longer fool myself living in a place of happiness
when all I see is the gray hovering over me,
my heart is truly broken
like someone had left me for the dead
I have no where to rest my head.

Because my mind is traveling over time
that reviles what I am feeling,
I know this may sound silly
but really
this has became apart of me.

In my mind I would see a place that haunts me
I am upon a mighty sea
where his eyes are looking at me...
but I never understood what it all means,
I just no I am in something deep
that scars the hell out of me.

In this darkness of my loneness
I have found myself in something deep
that leaving me cold and weeping,
I don't really know if I'm sleeping
my pains are cutting me so bad
leaving me feeling mad.

I’m bleeding out into the sea
because this old loneliness has taken over me
left me feeling cold and very alone;
but I keep hanging on
like an old sad song
that keep playing on.

I can no longer bear it
but somehow I am getting stronger
I know I must-
standing around in this dust,
this loneliness make me feel like I have no existence,
No self-worth
Oh, how this hurts the worst.

A life of a living Hell
Did that wring someone's Bell?
out in the cold
so very alone...
trying to make it on my own
I have nowhere to call home
all I do is roam.

Oh, how my body craves to be loved
but love was never a part of me,
my empty heart just bleeds like ink
as I wrote my famous lines
for the whole world to read
about a life that kept so many hooked.

So I could set my soul at easy
and my spirit run free
so I could feel a touch of love
and just maybe be love back
instead of always being attacked
behind my back.

It is crazy how so many has read my book
they all wanted take a better look
like they are hooked
but then it was them that wanted to bring on more rain
just to give me more pain.

But when I wrote down my story
of my lonely life
that made me cry
in my own bloodstained ink
where it is my sprit sink's
to pass the time-
to easy my nights
to easy my mind
my pains of loneliness remains,
but one day it will go away.

- Judy Emery © 2017 The Queen Of Darken Dreams Judy Lilly Emery

Loneliness
My constant companion
A friend I befriended from my childhood
That sticks with me through thick and thin
No matter where I go
Who I am with
It never let goes off me

Loneliness
A core memory
I’ve relived a countless times
That was responsible for the tears I’ve shed
No matter how many tears
How many hours of therapy
It still hurts

Loneliness
An inevitable emotion
I have stopped running away from
And instead embraced
Because no matter how painful it can be
I always find myself in the end

Crawling through my brain till it has made channels connecting to tunnels like little circuits replacing my nerves, the little worm I call Loneliness wriggles onward.

A constant motion of forward goes that worm, bringing with it a never ending feeling of monachopsis.
Day after day it dwells in my mind as the worm carries on.

It adapts and evolves finding a solution to every mastermind plot I find from removing this creature, this beast, this worm from my mind.

“Friendship is betrayal, they all leave and deceive in the end,” it whispers through my head as if another conscience inside my being.

I fear the worms words and obey every command. Dare I disobey what dismay would come my way?

“Happiness is a lie along with perfection, never trace your hands along such deadly lines, the lines of which a mortal mind should never tread,” he says using my beliefs against me. “Happiness is for those who belong, not for you, never for you!”

The worm screams those words through my mind anytime I laugh or smile reminding me not to be so daft.

Oh beautiful, wonderful,brilliant demon of mine.
Keeping me from trying to find ways to end the suffering in my life

Morbid torment in the back of my mind,
Keeping me from trying to find ways to silence the loneliness screaming within, bringing me further into the dark.

What would I do without you, dear Loneliness?
You cloud my mind and free me from my foolish desires.

Why should I not be alone?
If I was meant to feel together,
Then together surely I would feel.

Why should I feel happiness when happiness isn’t mine?
How selfish I would be without you holy creature,
Beautiful blessed worm of wonder.

To her, silence was comforting, alcohol was numbing and loneliness was all consuming

She often times scared away her nightly slumber  
Her thoughts grew louder and more chaotic with every tick of the clock
She let her past mistakes consume her
Rummaged internally for answers to her actions that led her here
Lying on a mattress which sat on the carpet of a rundown apartment
Alone

To her, silence was comforting, alcohol was numbing and loneliness was all consuming

She kept eyes open all night looking and thinking and drinking
A lot of drinking to seize the thoughts that drowned her
She traveled back in her dormant state to find events she wished had happened differently Dreamt up memories where she never walked away
Or where she refrained from saying something in an outburst of anger
She was haunted by
Everything

To her, silence was comforting, alcohol was numbing and loneliness was all consuming

Her thoughts had begun to agitate her being Transforming her mind into a whirlwind of anger and helplessness
She sat up at the edge of her mattress with the palms pressed tightly against her eyes, shaking her head in a frenzy
Her hands migrated to her hair, gathering a hand full and pulling
Eyes stung with the tears that began to surface  She took hasty steps toward her counter in search of a bottle to console her for the night
The only thing that put an end to the chaos was
Alcohol

To her, silence was comforting, alcohol was numbing and loneliness was all consuming