Kobayashi Issa

In the thicket's shadea woman by herselfsinging the rice-planting song

Even on the smallest islands,they are tilling the fields,skylarks singing

That pretty girl—munching and rustlingthe wrapped-up rice cake

It once happenedthat a child was spared punishmentthrough earnest solicitation

No doubt about it,the mountain cuckoois a crybaby
Translated by Robert Hass

Not knowingit's a tub they're inthe fish cooling at the gate
Translated by Robert Hass

These sea slugs -they just don't
Japanese

The crowwalks along thereas if it were tilling the field
Translated by Robert Hass

The man pulling radishespointed my waywith a radish

Last time,
I think,
I'll brush the fliesfrom my father's face
Translated by Robert Hass

Not very anxiousto bloom,my plum tree
Translated by Robert Hass

New Year's Day—everything is in blossom
I feel about average