Climb Mount Fuji,
but slowly, slowly.
Even in Kyoto --
hearing the cuckoo's cry --
I long for Kyoto.
I want to be here, I said. And I thought to add, now.
I want to be here now. Now when the rains threaten not to come in the cool wind above the dank and also dry Earth. Now amid the distant turtles and snails which are also so near. Now when whole fractions of mountains slide off. Now when the rumbling cool of welcome and the collapse of syntax. Now when I refuse to pay a sin tax. Now and here in crazy puns and rhymes. Here and now where I've always already been.
The gifts! I played it on my saxophone, but couldn't hear the music -- deaf, dumb and silly, wanting to melt like spring.
Unhidden in this ordinary world, Matsuo Basho blows his own horn!
Last edited by River; 06-30-2011 at 08:40 PM.