After the Gentle Poet Kobayashi Issa

New Year’ s morning —
everything is in blossom!
I feel about average.

A huge frog and I
staring at each other,
neither of us moves.

This moth saw brightness
in a woman’ s chamber —
burned to a crisp.

Asked how old he was
the boy in the new kimono
stretched out all five fingers.

Blossoms at night,
like people
moved by music

Napped half the day;
no one
punished me!

Fiftieth birthday:

From now on,
It’ s all clear profit,
every sky.

Don’ t worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.

These sea slugs,
they just don’ t seem
Japanese.

Hell:

Bright autumn moon;
pond snails crying
in the saucepan.