# PawPrints Signature File # For the most user friendly random e-mail signature generator # ever please visit # http://www.celerity.co.uk/pawprints/ # # Supporting : # - e-mail profiles (Friends, Business, Website etc) # - random headers and footers for each profile # - completely configurable options # - random desktop wallpaper changer # - even display random quotes on your wallpaper # ######### # Haiku # ######### Green frog, Is your body also freshly painted? ~Akutagawa, Ryunosuke. (1892-1927) % Sick and feverish Glimpse of cherry blossoms Still shivering. ~Akutagawa, Ryunosuke. (1892-1927) % Without flowing wine How to enjoy lovely Cherry blossoms? ~Anonymous. % Fallen sick on a journey, In dreams I run wildly Over a withered moor. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % An old pond! A frog jumps in- The sound of water. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % The first soft snow! Enough to bend the leaves Of the jonquil low. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % In the cicada's cry No sign can foretell How soon it must die. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % No one travels Along this way but I, This autumn evening. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % In all the rains of May there is one thing not hidden - the bridge at Seta Bay. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % The years first day thoughts and loneliness; the autumn dusk is here. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Clouds appear and bring to men a chance to rest from looking at the moon. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % No blossoms and no moon, and he is drinking sake all alone! ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Won't you come and see loneliness? Just one leaf from the kiri tree. ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Temple bells die out. The fragrant blossoms remain. A perfect evening! ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % How very noble! One who finds no satori in the lightning-flash ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Breakfast enjoyed in the fine company of morning glories ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Traveling this high mountain trail, delighted by violets ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % A solitary crow on a bare branch- autumn evening ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Whore and monk, we sleep under one roof together, moon in a field of clover ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Now I see her face, the old woman, abandoned, the moon her only companion ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % How reluctantly the bee emerges from the deep within the peony ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % The farmer's roadside hedge provided lunch for my tired horse ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % How wild the sea is, and over Sado Island, the River of Heaven ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Delight, then sorrow, aboard the cormorant fishing boat ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Exhausted, I sought a country inn, but found wisteria in bloom ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Among moon gazers at the ancient temple grounds not one beautiful face ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % A cuckoo cries, and through a thicket of bamboo the late moon shines ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % This hot day swept away into the sea by the Mogami River ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Heard, not seen, the camellia poured rainwater when it leaned ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % The banana tree blown by winds pours raindrops into the bucket ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % With plum blossom scent, this sudden sun emerges along a mountain trail ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Lead my pony across this wide moor to where the cuckoo sings ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Wrapping dumplings in bamboo leaves, with one finger she tidies her hair ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % With a warbler for a soul, it sleeps peacefully, this mountain willow ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % This dark autumn old age settles down on me like heavy clouds or birds ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % On Buddha's birthday a spotted fawn is born just like that ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % On Buddha's deathday, wrinkled tough old hands pray the prayer beads' sound ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Behind Ise Shrine, unseen, hidden by the fence, Buddha enters nirvana ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % This ruined temple should have its sad tale told only by a clam digger ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Gray hairs being plucked, and from below my pillow a cricket singing ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Through frozen rice fields, moving slowly on horseback, my shadow creeps by ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % The warbler sings among new shoots of bamboo of coming old age ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Winter showers, even the monkey searches for a raincoat ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Chilling autumn rains curtain Mount Fuji, then make it more beautiful to see ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % With dewdrops dripping, I wish somehow I could wash this perishing world ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % That great blue oak indifferent to all blossoms appears more noble ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % The clouds come and go, providing a rest for all the moon viewers ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Even these long days are not nearly long enough for the skylarks to sing ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Summer grasses: all that remains of great soldiers' imperial dreams ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Culture's beginnings: rice-planting songs from the heart of the country ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Singing, planting rice, village songs more lovely than famous city poems ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % All the fields hands enjoy a noontime nap after the harvest moon ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Winter seclusion sitting propped against the same worn post ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % I would like to use that scarecrow's tattered clothes in this midnight frost ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Lonely silence, a single cicada's cry sinking into stone ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % But for a woodpecker tapping at a post, no sound at all in the house ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Ungraciously, under a great soldier's empty helmet, a cricket sings ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Wet with morning dew and splotched with mud, the melon looks especially cool ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Even in Kyoto, how I long for Kyoto when the cuckoo sings ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Your song caresses the depth of loneliness, O high mountain bird ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Tremble, oh my gravemound, in time my cries will be only this autumn wind ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % On New Year's Day each thought a loneliness as winter dusk descends ~Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % Sick on my journey, only my dreams will wander these desolate moors ~BASHO'S DEATH POEM, Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694) % At the over-matured sushi, The Master Is full of regret. ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84). % Pressing Sushi; After a while, A lonely feeling ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84). % A whale! Down it goes, and more and more up goes its tail! ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % New Year's first poem written, now self-satisfied, O haiku poet! ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % A lightning flash- the sound of water drops falling through bamboo ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % With a woman friend, bowing at the Great Palace a pale, hazy moon ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Rain falls on the grass, filling the ruts left by the festival cart ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Priestly poverty he carves a wooden buddha through a long cold night ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % At the ancient well, leaping high for mosquitoes, that fish-dark sound ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Moon in midsky, high over the village hovels and wandering on ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % With no underrobes, bare butt suddenly exposed a gust of spring wind ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Sweet springtime showers and no words can express how sad it all is ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % With a runny nose sitting alone at the Go board, a long cold night ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % On these southern roads, on shrine or thatched roof, all the same, swallows everywhere ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % An evening cloudburst sparrows cling desperately to trembling bushes ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % At a roadside shrine, before the stony buddha a firefly burns ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % These lazy spring days continue but how far away those times called Long Ago! ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % A long hard journey, rain beating down the clover like a wanderer's feet ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % The late evening crow of deep autumn longing suddenly cries out ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % In a bitter wind a solitary monk bends to words cut in stone ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Nobly, the great priest deposits his daily stool in bleak winter fields ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Walking on dishes the rat's feet make the music of shivering cold ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Utter aloneness another great pleasure in autumn twilight ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % The thwack of an ax in the heart of a thicket and woodpecker's tat-tats! ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % With the noon conch blown those old rice-planting songs are suddenly gone ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % This cold winter night, that old wooden-head buddha would make a nice fire ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % The ferry departs as the tardy man stands in the first winter rain ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % By flowering pear and by the lamp of the moon she reads her letter ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Autumn breezes spin small fish hung to dry from beach house eaves ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Head pillowed on arm, such affection for myself! and this smoky moon ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Clinging to the bell he dozes so peacefully, this new butterfly ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Fallen red blossoms from plum trees burst into flame among the horse turds ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Light winter rain like scampering rat's-feet over my koto ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Bamboo hat, straw coat the very essence of Basho falling winter rain ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % A flying squirrel munches a small bird's bones in a bare winter field ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Along the roadside discarded duckweed blossoms in the evening rain ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % In seasonal rain along a nameless river fear too has no name ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Pure white plum blossoms slowly begin to turn the color of dawn ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Plum blossoms in bloom, in Kitano teahouse, the master of sumo ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Only the shoots of new green leaves, white water, and yellow barley ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % In pale moonlight the wisteria's scent comes from far away ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Slung over a screen, a dress of silk and gauze. The autumn wind. ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % The camellia tips, the remains of last night's rain splashing out ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % When a heavy cart comes rumbling along peonies tremble ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % That handsaw marks time with the sound of poverty late on a winter night ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Darting here and there, the bat is exploring the moonlit plum ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) % Winter rain on moss soundlessly recalls those happy bygone days ~Buson, Yosa. (1716-84) (on the anniversary of the death of Basho) % Covered with the flowers, Instantly I'd like to die In this dream of ours! ~Etsujin. % No sky no earth - but still snowflakes fall ~Hashin % In my old home which I forsook, the cherries are in bloom. ~Issa. (1762-1826). % A giant firefly: that way, this way, that way, this - and it passes by. ~Issa. (1762-1826). % Right at my feet - and when did you get here, snail? ~Issa. (1762-1826). % My grumbling wife - if only she were here! This moon tonight... ~Issa. (1762-1826). % A lovely thing to see: through the paper window's hole, the Galaxy. ~Issa. (1762-1826). % A man, just one - also a fly, just one - in the huge drawing room. ~Issa. (1762-1826). % A sudden shower falls - and naked I am riding on a naked horse! ~Issa. (1762-1826). % Thus spring begins: old stupidities repeated, new errs invented ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Just beyond the gate, a neat yellow hole someone pissed in the snow ~Issa. (1762-1826) % With this rising bath-mist deep in a moonlit night, spring finally begins. ~Issa. (1762-1826) % People working fields, from my deepest heart, I bow. Now a little nap. ~Issa. (1762-1826) % In the beggar's tin a few thin copper coins and this evening rain ~Issa. (1762-1826) % For you too, my fleas, the night passes so slowly. But you won't be lonely. ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Brilliant moon, is it true that you too must pass in a hurry ~Issa. (1762-1826) % The winter fly I caught and finally freed the cat quickly ate ~Issa. (1762-1826) % A faint yellow rose almost hidden in deep grass and then it moves. ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Mother, I weep for you as I watch the sea each time I watch the sea ~Issa. (1762-1826) % As the great old trees are marked for felling, the birds build their new spring nests ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Like misty moonlight, watery, bewildering our temporal way ~Issa. (1762-1826) % My dear old village, every memory of home pierces like a thorn ~Issa. (1762-1826) % A sheet of rain. Only one man remains among cherry blossom shadows ~Issa. (1762-1826) % A flowering plum and a nightingale's love song he remains alone ~Issa. (1762-1826) % My old village lies far beyond what we can see, but there the lark is singing ~Issa. (1762-1826) % This world of dew is only a world of dew - and yet ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Here is Shinano are famous moons, and buddhas, and our good noodles ~Issa. (1762-1826) % When the wild turnip burst into full blossom a skylark sang ~Issa. (1762-1826) % The distant mountains are reflected in the eye of the dragonfly ~Issa. (1762-1826) % What's the lord's vast wealth to me, his millions and more? Dew on trembling grass ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Before this autumn wind even the shadows of mountains shudder and tremble ~Issa. (1762-1826) % This year on, forever, it's all gravy for me now - now spring arrives ~Issa. (1762-1826) % I wish she were here to listen to my bitching and enjoy this moon ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Gratitude for gifts, even snow on my bedspread a gift from the Pure Land ~Issa. (1762-1826) % The old dog listens intently, as if to the worksongs of the worms ~Issa. (1762-1826) % My spring is just this: a single bamboo shoot, a willow branch ~Issa. (1762-1826) % From that woman on the beach, dusk pours out across the evening waves ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Don't kill that poor fly! He cowers, wringing his hands foe mercy ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Before I arrived, who were the people living here? Only violets remain. ~Issa. (1762-1826) % O autumn winds, tell me where I'm bound, to which particular hell ~Issa. (1762-1826) % From the Great Buddha's great nose, a swallow comes gliding out ~Issa. (1762-1826) % A world of dew, and within every dewdrop a world of struggle ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Under this bright moon I sit like an old buddha knees spread wide ~Issa. (1762-1826) % My noontime nap disrupted by voices singing rice-planting songs ~Issa. (1762-1826) % In the midst of this world we stroll along the roof of hell gawking at flowers ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Give me a homeland, and a passionate woman, and a winter alone ~Issa. (1762-1826) % A world of trials, and if the cherry blossoms, it simply blossoms ~Issa. (1762-1826) % In my hidden house, no teeth left in the mouth, but good luck abounds ~Issa. (1762-1826) % So many flea bites, but on her lovely young skin they are beautiful ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Now we are leaving, the butterflies can make love to their hearts' desire ~Issa. (1762-1826) % The new year arrived in utter simplicity - and a deep blue sky ~Issa. (1762-1826) % The blossoming plum! Today all the fires of hell remain empty ~Issa. (1762-1826) % Just to say the word home, that one word alone, so pleasantly cool ~Issa. (1762-1826) % How comfortable my summer cotton robe when drenched with sweat ~Issa. (1762-1826) % In this mountain village, shining in my soup bowl, the bright moon arrives ~Issa. (1762-1826) % After a long nap, the cat yawns, rises, and goes out looking for love ~Issa. (1762-1826) % O summer snail, you climb but slowly, slowly to the top of Fuji ~Issa. (1762-1826) % The vanity of men they would like to retain this passing winter moon ~Issa. (1762-1826) % I kill an ant and realize my three children have been watching. ~Kato, Shuson % From a bathing tub I throw water into the lake - slight muddiness appears. ~Kawahigashi, Hekigodo. (1873-1937). % Night, and the moon! My neighbor, playing on his flute - out of tune! ~Kójó % First autumn morning: the mirror I stare into shows my father's face. ~Murakami, Kijo. (1865-1938) % The moment two bubbles are united, they both vanish. A lotus blooms. ~Murakami, Kijo. (1865-1938) % On New Year's Day I long to meet my parents as they were before my birth. ~Natsume, Soseki. (1867-1916) % The crow has flown away: swaying in the evening sun, a leafless tree. ~Natsume, Soseki. (1867-1916) % You rice-field maidens! The only things not muddy Are the songs you sing. ~Raizan. % In all this cool is the moon also sleeping? There, in the pool? ~Ryusui. (1691-1758). % I want to sleep Swat the flies Softly, please. ~Shiki, Masaoka. (1867-1902). % After killing a spider, how lonely I feel in the cold of night! ~Shiki, Masaoka. (1867-1902). % For love and for hate I swat a fly and offer it to an ant. ~Shiki, Masaoka. (1867-1902). % A mountain village under the pilled-up snow the sound of water. ~Shiki, Masaoka. (1867-1902). % Night; and once again, the while I wait for you, cold wind turns into rain. ~Shiki, Masaoka. (1867-1902). % The summer river: although there is a bridge, my horse goes through the water. ~Shiki, Masaoka. (1867-1902). % A lightning flash: between the forest trees I have seen water. ~Shiki, Masaoka. (1867-1902). % A dead chrysanthemum and yet - isn't there still something remaining in it? ~Takahama, Kyoshi % He says a word, and I say a word - autumn is deepening. ~Takahama, Kyoshi % The winds that blows - ask them, which leaf on the tree will be next to go. ~Takahama, Kyoshi % A gold bug - I hurl into the darkness and feel the depth of night. ~Takahama, Kyoshi % Those falling blossoms all return to the branch when I watch butterflies ~MORITAKE(1452-1540) % Settling, white dew does not discriminate, each drop its home ~SOIN (1604-1682) % Chanting Buddha's name is the deepest pleasure of one's old age ~ANONYMOUS % To learn how to die watch cherry blossoms, observe chrysanthemums ~ANONYMOUS % First cherry blossoms, a cuckoo, the moon and snow: another year closes ~SANPU (1647-1732) % O Great Buddha, your lap must be filling with these flowers of snow ~KIKAKU (1661-1707) % Her mate devoured by the cat, the cricket's wife must be mourning ~KIKAKU (1661-1707) % On Buddha's birthday the orphaned boy will become the temple's child ~KIKAKU (1661-1707) % In the Emperor's bed, the smell of burnt mosquitoes, and erotic whispers ~KIKAKU (1661-1707) % A single yam leaf contains the entire life of a water drop ~KIKAKU (1661-1707) % Over the long road the flower-bringer follows: plentiful moonlight ~KIKAKU (1661-1707) % I begin each day with breakfast greens and tea and morning glories ~KIKAKU (1661-1707) % Riding the wide leaf of the banana-tree, the tree-frog clings ~KIKAKU (1661-1707) % A single leaf falls, then suddenly another, stolen by the breeze ~RANSETSU (1654-1707) % A large slug slides slowly, glistening over abandoned armor ~RANSETSU (1654-1707) % On the old plum tree, one blossom by one blossom, the spring thaw is born ~RANSETSU (1654-1707) % All by itself, that beautiful melon, entirely self-sufficient ~RANSETSU (1654-1707) % Without a sound, munching young rice-plant stalks, a caterpillar dines ~RANSETSU (1654-1707) % Returning from a funeral I saw this very moon high above the moor ~KYORAI (1651-1704) % For rice-planting women there's nothing left unsoiled but their song ~RAIZAN (1653-1716) % At the break of dawn the well-bucket reels in a camellia bloom ~KAKEI (d. 1716) % To finally know the plum, use the whole heart too, and your own nose ~ONITSURA (1660-1738) % The leaping trout sees far below, a few white clouds as they flow ~ONITSURA (1660-1738) % True obedience: silently the flowers speak to the inner ear ~ONITSURA (1660-1738) % The cherry blossoms scatter and we watch and the more cherry blossoms blow ~ONITSURA (1660-1738) % Since morning glories hold my well-bucket hostage, I beg for water ~CHIYO (1701-1775) % After the Dance for the Dead only pine winds to bring these insect cries ~SOGETSUNI (d. ca. 1804) % Divine mystery in these autumn leaves that fall on stony buddhas ~SOGETSUNI (d. ca. 1804) % Life in this world is brief as time spent sheltered from winter showers ~SOGI (1421-1502) % So very still, even cherry blossoms are not stirred by the temple bell ~FUHAKU (1714-1807) % In the poor man's house, crossing the tatami mats, a cold autumn wind ~TEIGA (1744-1826) % Only the moon and I, on our meeting-bridge, alone, growing cold KIKUSHA-NI (1752-1826) % People, more people scurrying through spring breezes along the rice-field dikes ~TAYO-JO (1772-1865) % The moon this evening, and in the whole wide sky not a trace of cloud ~SOCHO (1448-1532) % When the bush warbler sings, the old frog belches his reply ~SHOHA (19th century) % Just when the sermon has finally dirtied my ears- the cuckoo ~SHOHA (19th century) % O autumn winds, for me there are no ancient gods, no Buddhas for me ~SHOHA (19th century) % The Skylark School argues with the Frog School, each with its song ~SHOHA (19th century) % The full moon ringed by these innumerable stars, and the sky deep green ~SHOHA (19th century) % In the winter river, discarded, an old dog's carcass ~SHOHA (19th century) % The thunderstorm breaks up, one tree lit by setting sun, a cicada cry ~SHOHA (19th century) % Spider murderer Hurls curses at flies As day sun rises ~Adam Sheik % The aged scribe weeps wishing the words were his but night falls swiftly ~Adam Sheik % A slow morning I am deprived of pure air fruitless waste of life ~Adam Sheik % A quiet afternoon licking the crumbs of a good cake I wish for sleep ~Adam Sheik % How can I escape A moment frozen in time? Oh to even blink! ~Adam Sheik