Monks' feet clomping
through icy dark,
drawing sweet water.
***
Sparrows in eaves,
mice in ceiling—
celestial music.
***
Dark night—
plover crying
for its nest.
***
How terrible
the pheasant's call—
snake-eater.
***
Violets—
how precious on
a mountain path.
***
Dusk—though last
bell's faded,
air's cherry-rich.
***
Snow-whisk sweeping
this path,
forgets the snow.
_______________________
Today's poetry was written by Basho and translated by Lucien Stryk.
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)