Thursday, November 21, 2013


(February 1942 ~ March 1944)

Forsythia blooming

sun shining

the mind of the ancient

Things are refreshingly cool

a chicken

and his face

A cicada hole

around there

the fragrant color of earth

So full of

white clouds

I catch a grasshopper

I have potatoes to eat

I see a bamboo grove

from where I sit

I long for my home

my home

ice on a harvested field

It's May

the sun and a grove of young pines

are leaning

It's midwinter

there are many mountains

there is one lake

A summer-like mind

this placid water

reminds me of my home country

Living in a field

I bury the fire

deep in a brazier

I talk with a child

who hasn't caught

a single cicada yet

Pee-cho pee-cho

sings a bird

blue mountain comes near

        . . . . remembering Basho

A vast grassland

Basho comes all alone

after a wintry blast 

I look upon the surface

of one stone

spring light in a bamboo grove

By the fireside tonight

I think of ocean tide ebbing

on a moonlit night

Burning the fallen leaves

I feel infinitude

behind me

A rooster and I


over the frozen earth

I shall respond

to the mountain form shone

by the winter sun

My ears being frost-bitten

the sky is vast

these days

Being with the bare trees

I sleep at night

facing this direction

Ippekiro Nakatsuka (1887 ~ 1946)

from Cape Jasmine and Pomegranates
(the free-meter haiku of Ippekiro)
translated by Soichi Furuta
Mushinsha / Grossman 1974