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Chiyo-Jo's Haiku
Autumn
because it is bright cannot tell it's water--today's moon
the autumn wind resounds in the mountains--voice of the bell
autumn comes--yesterday's old days remain
autumn field--some grass flowers some grass doesn't
morning glories--the butterfly's movement, a dream or reality
the morning glory! the well-bucket entangled I ask for water
morning glory--shadow of a lantern still seen
morning glory--the number of flowers can be seen from twilight
morning glories--even sleeping with kimono tied couldn't awaken
morning glory! last night's needlework remains
in the morning the lingering heat is cleared away
between reeds the wind blows--abandoned boat
bush clover in the rain dew on each leaf becoming what?
16th moon night's darkness drops--dew from potatoes
lightening gets wet--water's surface
back street snoring and today's full moon (both) bright
even when sold the quail doesn't forget the autumn
bush clover in the wind hotness remains nothing to do
dying sweetfish--day by day the river harsher
sounds merge--the rain quiets the pounding of cloth
the mosquite net cool in my face--this morning, autumn
town's river sound--people go to see the post-harvest moon
blooming Chinese bell flower seems to say, “pop”
blooming chrysanthemums--I forgot my devotion until today
sound of things falling from the trees--autumn wind
the cricket cries from the mound, ‘alone’
ninety-nine are somewhere else--the one gourd
cocks-comb flowers--and laundry in a row
today I feel tired raising chrysanthemums
from this side we can only speak--spirit festival
the bird wonders rain drops--grapes
coolness warmed by the grass on the path
a white chrysanthemum--beyond splendor
how terrifying her rouged fingers against the white chrysanthemum
mushroom hunting--keep to the path within the mountain
spirit festival even the taste of water fragrant
traces of a dream--a butterfly through the flower-field
moonlit night--a cricket sings out on a stone
I also saw the moon and so I say goodbye to this world
horns for pressing--the reeds
the long night--turn by turn insects' voices
floating water moon yet the stream below silent
whatever you wear becomes beautiful--moon-viewing
at her sewing the needle drops--the quail's cry
post-harvest moon--for the first time the hearth seems smaller
unexpected to hear the koto--rainy moon-viewing
first wild geese--nights are becoming long, becoming long
first wild geese coming... still coming
first wild geese--hearing all lines at once, too good
first wild geese--if more in the mountain less in the field
its flowers and leaves are ashamed--the extra long gourd
a hundred gourds from the heart of one vine
the laundry pole has become shorter--dragon-flies
matsutake--but also a rain shelter
on her day off the prostitute wakes up alone--the night's chill
at the crescent moon the silence enters the heart
moon-viewing--after coming home nothing to say
moon-viewing boat--here and there is also good
the full moon--happened to see something bright
full moon--keeping it in my eyes on a distant walk
a little bit cold the sounds of gourds become ripe
evening fog--there are some days you mistake for spring
passing autumn--as if crying alone, the voice of the pine
over the flowing water chasing its shadow--the dragonfly
mountain hot springs--the autumn evening is somewhere else
twilight is elsewhere--the maple leaves
yellow valerian flowers--rather not bloom in tough spring
Chiyo-Jo's HaikuAutumn Chiyo-Jo's HaikuAutumn 
Chiyo-Jo's HaikuAutumn 
