Kobayashi Issa

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

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

It once happenedthat a child was spared punishmentthrough earnest solicitation

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

Pissing in the snowoutside my door—it makes a very straight hole

In these latter-day,
Degenerate times,  Cherry-blossoms everywhere

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

Face of the spring moon—about twelve years old,
I'd say

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

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

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

My dear old village,  every memory of home  pierces like a thorn