Basho's Zen Poem

Translated by John Stevens   Summer grasses: all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams Eaten alive by lice and fleas -- now the horse beside my pillow pees Along the roadside, blossoming wild roses in my horse’s mouth Even that old horse is something to see this snow-covered morning On the white poppy, a butterfly’s torn wing is a keepsake The bee emerging from deep within the peony departs reluctantly Crossing long fields, frozen in its saddle, my shadow creeps by A mountain pheasant cry fills me with fond longing for father and mother Slender, so slender its stalk bends under dew -- little yellow flower New Year’s first snow -- ah -- just barely enough to tilt the daffodil In this warm spring rain, tiny leaves are sprouting from the eggplant seed O bush warblers! Now you’ve shit all over my rice cake on the porch For those who proclaim they’ve grown weary of children, there are no flowers Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die