Af Matsuo Basho

A black crow
has settled himself.
On a leafless tree,
fall of an autumn day.

At midnight
under the bright moon.
A secret worm
digs into a chestnut.

Oars hit waves
and my intestines freeze,
as I sit weeping
in the dark night.

On a snowy morning,
I sat by myself.
Chewing tough strips
of dried salmon.

Tonight, the wind blowing
through the Basho-tree.
I hear the leaking rain
drop against a basin.

Oars hit waves
and my intestines freeze,
as I sit weeping
in the dark night.