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Quote by Yosa Buson

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Yosa Buson
Yosa Buson

A renowned poet of the Edo period in Japan, Yosa Buson is hailed as the master of haiku. Born in 1716 and died on December 25, 1783, Buson's poetry is characterized by its simplicity, clarity, and profoundness, which had a profound impact on the development of haiku in later generations. more

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“And she wept as well for the others lost in the Dark War, and she wept for her mother and the loss she had endured, and she wept for Emma and the Blackthorns, remembering how they had fought back tears when she had told them that she had seen Mark in the tunnels of Faerie, and how he belonged to the Hunt now, and she wept for Simon and the hole in her heart where he had been, and the she would miss him every day until she died, and she wept for herself and the changes that had been wrought in her, because sometimes even change for the better felt like a little death.”

DeathChangeLossCassandra ClareClary FraySimon LewisThe Mortal InstrumentsCity Of Heavenly FireEmma CarstairsPart 2Chapter 24Mark BlackthronPage 650Page 651
Book:City of Heavenly Fire
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“Başka topraklara başka denizlere gideceğim. Daha güzel bir şehir arayacağım arzularımın asla gerçekleşmediği duygularımın şu soğuk mezarından. Daha ne kadar şaşıracak yolunu bu labirentte ruhum? harcayacak zamanım yok artık burada, nereye baksam viraneye dönmüş hayatımı görüyorum," diyorsun. Gidebileceğin başka toprak, başka deniz yok senin. Nereye gitsen bu şehir gelecek arkandan. Daima aynı sokakları katedecek, aynı banliyöde yaşlanacaksın. Aynı evde kır düşecek şaçlarına. Bu şehri asla terketmeyeceksin Artık başka bir yer yok senin için Başka mahalleler, başka sokaklar Seni bu şehirden kurtaramaz. Yalnızca burada değil, yeryüzünün her köşesinde tükettin çünkü hayatı.”

PoemşAnghay Büyüsü
Author:Juan Marsé
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“Dead in front of me catafalqued king my own ocean; once sappy as a sprung fir in the green turmoil, once seed to sea-quake, tidal wave, now simply dead remains; in the whole market yours was the only shape left with purpose or direction in this jumbled ruin of nature; you are a solitary man of war among these frail vegetables, your flanks and prow black and slippery as if you were still a well-oiled ship of the wind, the only true machine of the sea: unflawed, undefiled, navigating now the waters of death”

Poem
Author:Pablo Neruda
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