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Quote by Yosa Buson

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Haiku Master 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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“We have always had a curious connection to birds in my family. My grandfather was even called the Birdman of Havana because he kept pigeons. He named them after family members long since gone. I spent my childhood believing the birds were actually these people, simply transformed. I remember the musty, sweet scent of them. I remember the bloom of dust on their wings. My favorite was the one named after my mother. When my grandfather died, my brother set the birds free and I hated seeing them fly away. I did not want them to leave me, as nearly everyone I had ever loved had left me. But my brother said we were free like them now, and we left to cross the straits that very night.”

“In Amorous Creeping by Stewart Stafford I scaled a trellis in randy pursuit, A rose in teeth for my paramour, A thorn lurking by a naked stem, Palmy, engorged and prescient. A pigeon said to douse my ardour, A talkative fowl, plainly no pidgin, Snorts for this priggish counsel, Blind shoots, driving me upward. A wriggling worm to her chamber, Inside I crept as she lay sleeping, Sweeping a spectral sheet off her, To lay until the dawn chorus sings. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

“Most people with whom I have discussed pigeons hold them in low esteem. I have history with pigeons, or perhaps I would not even have noticed the small creature. The great gentleness I have found seems to have escaped most people’s notice. Of course, like most humans, I did not recognize their true worth at all until I got to know one very well.”

“By evening, the Curtain household numbered seven, but joy did not arrive with the child. Neither did noise, for the child had not uttered a sound. Pa, still on the porch, strained his ears for any resonances of new life, but none came. He lit a lantern, around which nocturnal insects bashed into each other sadistically, hopelessly attempting to get near the fire that would certainly kill them if they were successful.”