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The Sound of Water: Haiku by Basho, Buson, Issa, and Other Poets
Here are more than two hundred of the best haiku of Japanese literature translated by one of America’s premier poet-translators. The haiku is one of the most popular and widely recognized poetic forms in the world. In just three lines a great haiku presents a crystalline moment of image, emotion, and awareness. This illustrated collection includes haiku by the great masters from the seventeenth to the early twentieth century.
152 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2000
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490 people want to read
About the author
Sam Hamill
96 books32 followersPoet, editor, translator, and essayist, Sam Hamill is author of more than thirty books including two from BOA Editions, Gratitude (1998), and Dumb Luck(2002). He has been the recipient of numerous awards and fellowships, including ones from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Guggenheim Foundation, the Woodrow Wilson Foundation, the U.S.-Japan Friendship Commission, two Washington Governor’s Arts Awards, the Stanley Lindberg Lifetime Achievement Award for Editing, and the Washington Poets Association Lifetime Achievement Award for poetry. He co-founded Copper Canyon Press, and has worked extensively in prisons and with battered women and children.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 41 reviews
November 26, 2019
BASHO
Seen in plain daylight
the firefly’s nothing but
an insect
-
This dark autumn
old age settles down on me
like heavy clouds or birds
-
A weathered skeleton
in windy fields of memory
piercing like a knife
-
Tremble, oh my gravemound
in time my cries will be only
this autumn wind
----
BUSON
A lightning flash
the sound of water drops
falling through bamboo
-
This cold winter night
that old wooden-head buddha
would make a nice fire
-
Fallen red blossoms from plum trees
burst into flame
among the horse turds
----
ISSA
Just beyond the gate
a neat yellow hole
someone pissed in the snow
-
For you too, my fleas
the night passes so slowly
but you won’t be lonely
-
My dear old village
every memory of home
pierces like a thorn
-
A world of dew
and within every dewdrop
a world of struggle
-
So many flea bites
but on her lovely young skin
they are beautiful
----
OTHER POETS
MORITAKE
Those falling blossoms
all return to the branch
when I watch butterflies
Seen in plain daylight
the firefly’s nothing but
an insect
-
This dark autumn
old age settles down on me
like heavy clouds or birds
-
A weathered skeleton
in windy fields of memory
piercing like a knife
-
Tremble, oh my gravemound
in time my cries will be only
this autumn wind
----
BUSON
A lightning flash
the sound of water drops
falling through bamboo
-
This cold winter night
that old wooden-head buddha
would make a nice fire
-
Fallen red blossoms from plum trees
burst into flame
among the horse turds
----
ISSA
Just beyond the gate
a neat yellow hole
someone pissed in the snow
-
For you too, my fleas
the night passes so slowly
but you won’t be lonely
-
My dear old village
every memory of home
pierces like a thorn
-
A world of dew
and within every dewdrop
a world of struggle
-
So many flea bites
but on her lovely young skin
they are beautiful
----
OTHER POETS
MORITAKE
Those falling blossoms
all return to the branch
when I watch butterflies
October 13, 2010
I was given this book for participating in a haiku "challenge" (I was chosen randomly); and not only is the tiny book cute and elegant (Can it be both those things? Yes, I think it can.) with a few soft illustrations scattered throughout, it is a nice sampling of haiku (from my admittedly small knowledge of the genre) from the 15th century through to the 19th century.
I read it straight through, but I think it would be fun to open randomly and mediate on the one you happen to land upon. My favorites were the ones that seemed irreverent, though the one that has stayed with me concerns what the fish sees of the sky in the water below him as he leaps in the air.
I read it straight through, but I think it would be fun to open randomly and mediate on the one you happen to land upon. My favorites were the ones that seemed irreverent, though the one that has stayed with me concerns what the fish sees of the sky in the water below him as he leaps in the air.
September 14, 2007
my boyfriend got me a copy of this book. Great cover. Great poems. it gave me the impression that the japanese have it all figured out..
February 7, 2019
Beautiful poems that I will want to re-read. The only commentary is in the intro, which is very brief. A physically small book, so you can carry it in your pocket and read it, say, when on the bus.
November 13, 2020
When I was in college Sam Hamill came and spoke to my poetry class. He was a barrel-chested, craggy man who paced the room like a caged bear—his voice was a loud rasp, and he was a little bit deaf, so he cut off everyone who asked a question by barking "Huh?" and then going on with whatever he wanted to say. I remember that his hands were massive and gave the impression of tremendous strength and potential violence.
If this sounds to you like an odd profile for an accomplished and sensitive translator of Zen nature poetry, you're right. He was a paradox. He told us how he'd been abused as a child, and went on to become an abuser himself. I don't remember the full story, but he spent time in jail and the military, eventually reforming himself, or at least chaining up the mad dog inside, through the disciplines of meditation and poetry.
He was an angry man, and radiated contempt for all of us who didn't rise at 4:30 to meditate, write ten pages of verse, and eat a breakfast of nails. At the time I found him both terrifying and ridiculous. I understand Sam Hamill much better today than I did then, as a soft and clueless 18-year-old. Now I too get up early to meditate and even try my hand at a little haiku. I understand that this is not a matter of preference, but survival. My struggles are different from his, and probably not as titanic, but still, we stop the world from breaking us by being meticulous in how we approach it. Taking care with our thoughts, attention, and time.
In other words, don't let anyone tell you that 300-year-old Japanese poetry isn't useful. It may have saved Sam Hamill's life, and it could save yours one day, too.
(This book loses one star for being almost perfectly square and the size of a folded handkerchief. Books shouldn't be square or this tiny.)
If this sounds to you like an odd profile for an accomplished and sensitive translator of Zen nature poetry, you're right. He was a paradox. He told us how he'd been abused as a child, and went on to become an abuser himself. I don't remember the full story, but he spent time in jail and the military, eventually reforming himself, or at least chaining up the mad dog inside, through the disciplines of meditation and poetry.
He was an angry man, and radiated contempt for all of us who didn't rise at 4:30 to meditate, write ten pages of verse, and eat a breakfast of nails. At the time I found him both terrifying and ridiculous. I understand Sam Hamill much better today than I did then, as a soft and clueless 18-year-old. Now I too get up early to meditate and even try my hand at a little haiku. I understand that this is not a matter of preference, but survival. My struggles are different from his, and probably not as titanic, but still, we stop the world from breaking us by being meticulous in how we approach it. Taking care with our thoughts, attention, and time.
In other words, don't let anyone tell you that 300-year-old Japanese poetry isn't useful. It may have saved Sam Hamill's life, and it could save yours one day, too.
(This book loses one star for being almost perfectly square and the size of a folded handkerchief. Books shouldn't be square or this tiny.)
November 12, 2011
An excellent, and appropriately succinct collection of the greats (Basho, Buson, and Issa) and some other noteworthy ones at the end. Basho's haiku are the most beautiful and delicate:
With a warbler for
a soul, it sleeps peacefully,
this mountain willow.
This dark autumn
old age settles down on me
like heavy clouds or birds
Come out to view
the truth of flowers blooming
in poverty
Chilling autumn rains
curtain Mount Fuji, then make it
more beautiful to see
With dewdrops dripping,
I wish somehow I could wash
this perishing world.
Even these long days
are not nearly long enough
for skylarks to sing
Summer grasses:
all that remains of great soldiers'
imperial dreams
Singing, planting rice,
village songs more lovely
than famous city poems
Your song caresses
the depth of loneliness,
O high mountain bird
Tremble, oh my gravemound,
in time my cries will be
only this autumn wind
Basho's death poem
Sick on my journey,
only my dreams will wander
these desolate moors
Buson's
A lightning flash--
the sound of water drops
falling through bamboo
In a bitter wind
a solitary monk bend
to words cut in stone
Utter aloneness--
another great pleasure
in autumn twilight
Pure white plum blossoms
slowly begin to turn
the color of dawn
Issa's poignant and somewhat remorseful:
Before I arrived,
who were the people living here?
Only violets remain.
And the others at the end are great:
Since morning glories
hold my well-bucket hostage,
I beg for water. - Chiyo (1701-75)
Divine mystery
in these autumn leaves that fall
on stony buddhas - Sogetsuni
So very still, even
cherry blossoms are not stirred
by the temple bell - Fuhaku (1714-1807)
With a warbler for
a soul, it sleeps peacefully,
this mountain willow.
This dark autumn
old age settles down on me
like heavy clouds or birds
Come out to view
the truth of flowers blooming
in poverty
Chilling autumn rains
curtain Mount Fuji, then make it
more beautiful to see
With dewdrops dripping,
I wish somehow I could wash
this perishing world.
Even these long days
are not nearly long enough
for skylarks to sing
Summer grasses:
all that remains of great soldiers'
imperial dreams
Singing, planting rice,
village songs more lovely
than famous city poems
Your song caresses
the depth of loneliness,
O high mountain bird
Tremble, oh my gravemound,
in time my cries will be
only this autumn wind
Basho's death poem
Sick on my journey,
only my dreams will wander
these desolate moors
Buson's
A lightning flash--
the sound of water drops
falling through bamboo
In a bitter wind
a solitary monk bend
to words cut in stone
Utter aloneness--
another great pleasure
in autumn twilight
Pure white plum blossoms
slowly begin to turn
the color of dawn
Issa's poignant and somewhat remorseful:
Before I arrived,
who were the people living here?
Only violets remain.
And the others at the end are great:
Since morning glories
hold my well-bucket hostage,
I beg for water. - Chiyo (1701-75)
Divine mystery
in these autumn leaves that fall
on stony buddhas - Sogetsuni
So very still, even
cherry blossoms are not stirred
by the temple bell - Fuhaku (1714-1807)
April 19, 2022
I've owned this for a long time, but never got around to reading it. I'm so glad I picked it up. I enjoyed the Basho and Buson haikus most, and if I hadn't read the ones by others at the end of the book, I would have been left with the erroneous opinion that writing great haiku is easy. Clearly it's not. This collection is interesting, thought-provoking, and, at times, pretty humorous.
August 2, 2011
I meant to get Basho's The Narrow Road to the Far North out from the library, but it was a very large square library-bound book that upon opening emitted that unpleasant smell of a book that is old enough to change scent while sitting unread on the library shelf but not quite old enough for that scent to be a good one. Also, the book included colour photographs from the 1970s which are the sort that seem to physically assault the sensitive aesthetic sensibilities of those of us who have grown up with the advantage of the hugely improved production values of the present age.
This book was close by, so I borrowed it instead. It is tiny and brief and allowed me to carry home a bunch of other books that I may or may not read (including a long study of the Japanese haiku for which I don't think I have the patience).
The haiku were lovely and the introduction was illuminating. Some of my favourites of Basho's:
"With a warbler for / a soul, it sleeps peacefully, / this mountain willow"
"A weathered skeleton / in windy fields of memory, / piercing like a knife"
"Through frozen rice fields, / moving slowly on horseback, / my shadow creeps by"
(That place between three and four stars is a place of torture.)
This book was close by, so I borrowed it instead. It is tiny and brief and allowed me to carry home a bunch of other books that I may or may not read (including a long study of the Japanese haiku for which I don't think I have the patience).
The haiku were lovely and the introduction was illuminating. Some of my favourites of Basho's:
"With a warbler for / a soul, it sleeps peacefully, / this mountain willow"
"A weathered skeleton / in windy fields of memory, / piercing like a knife"
"Through frozen rice fields, / moving slowly on horseback, / my shadow creeps by"
(That place between three and four stars is a place of torture.)
December 11, 2025
This is a tiny book, not just in page numbers, but size-wise, which is entirely appropriate for a book of haiku. It provides a good introduction to the haiku masters Basho, Buson, and Issa. (2016)
Second reading: December 10, 2025
This was a perfect little book to read on the season's first school cancellation due to snow.
Here is a little sample to whet your appetite:
From Basho:
Seen in plain daylight
the firefly's nothing but
an insect
With dewdrops dripping,
I wish somehow I could wash
this perishing world
From Buson:
New Year's first poem
written, now self-satisfied,
O haiku poet!
By flowering pear
and by the lamp of the moon
she reads her letter
From Issa:
The world of dew
is only a world of dew--
and yet
A world of trials,
and if the cherry blossoms,
it simply blossoms
In the midst of this world
we stroll along the roof of hell
gawking at flowers
Second reading: December 10, 2025
This was a perfect little book to read on the season's first school cancellation due to snow.
Here is a little sample to whet your appetite:
From Basho:
Seen in plain daylight
the firefly's nothing but
an insect
With dewdrops dripping,
I wish somehow I could wash
this perishing world
From Buson:
New Year's first poem
written, now self-satisfied,
O haiku poet!
By flowering pear
and by the lamp of the moon
she reads her letter
From Issa:
The world of dew
is only a world of dew--
and yet
A world of trials,
and if the cherry blossoms,
it simply blossoms
In the midst of this world
we stroll along the roof of hell
gawking at flowers
June 29, 2017
This book is so beautiful. I borrowed it from the library, but it’s one of those books that I think would be beautiful to have around at home all the time. Jorie Graham put me onto Basho, and I’m so glad I read this. Graham helped open up haiku for me, and helped me notice its radically economic use of words. Each new word opening up a new scale (in time or space or consciousness), each layer nested within another. These were some of the most beautiful gatherings of words I’ve ever encountered. Elegant, serene, gorgeous, sometimes even funny. Besides the excellent poems, I thought the Centaur typeface also looked gorgeous together with Kaji Aso’s paintings. The translator, Sam Hamill, is also I think an interesting poet and academic involved with anti-war activism. Great little book.
May 11, 2009
This is my favorite little haiku book. I like flipping it open randomly and seeing what it has to offer. It's far better than a horoscope.
June 11, 2023
So I was all set to write a two-star review and began flipping through my bookmarks of haiku I didn't like to use them as examples here — and I found I liked them and many times loved them.
I'm not sure why this didn't grab me initially, maybe because I'd read a Red Pine book of Chinese poetry right before and the beauty of the translations was palpable. Here, things are more stripped down, more Zen. They require participation on the part of the reader, a pausing between the bite-sized poems to absorb the emotion behind the sparse words. In other words, this is how haiku is supposed to be done.
Three selections picked at random:
As the great old trees
are marked for felling, the birds
build their new spring nests.
~ Issa
Nothing in the cry
of cicadas suggests they
are about to die
~ Basho
Ungraciously, under
a great soldier's empty helmet,
a cricket sings
~ Basho
I'm not sure why this didn't grab me initially, maybe because I'd read a Red Pine book of Chinese poetry right before and the beauty of the translations was palpable. Here, things are more stripped down, more Zen. They require participation on the part of the reader, a pausing between the bite-sized poems to absorb the emotion behind the sparse words. In other words, this is how haiku is supposed to be done.
Three selections picked at random:
As the great old trees
are marked for felling, the birds
build their new spring nests.
~ Issa
Nothing in the cry
of cicadas suggests they
are about to die
~ Basho
Ungraciously, under
a great soldier's empty helmet,
a cricket sings
~ Basho
August 13, 2025
I enjoyed this book. I've read a few haiku books, most of which include or center around Basho and Issa, sometimes Basho. The selection was hit or miss with Basho in particular for me. I've read other haiku books I've enjoyed more. This was a solid book but it wouldn't be my first or second recommendation.
The section I may have enjoyed the most was the final section where a variety of other poets are included. Some get a page or two of haiku, others get only one.
I'll list a few of those:
Those falling blossoms
all return to the branch when
I watch butterflies.
(Moritake, 1452-1540)
The Skylark School
argues with the Frog School
each with its song.
(Shiki, 1867-1902)
Since the morning glories
hold my well-bucket hostage,
I beg for water.
(Chiyo, 1701-1775)
The section I may have enjoyed the most was the final section where a variety of other poets are included. Some get a page or two of haiku, others get only one.
I'll list a few of those:
Those falling blossoms
all return to the branch when
I watch butterflies.
(Moritake, 1452-1540)
The Skylark School
argues with the Frog School
each with its song.
(Shiki, 1867-1902)
Since the morning glories
hold my well-bucket hostage,
I beg for water.
(Chiyo, 1701-1775)
March 19, 2019
A collection of Haiku from a selection of poets.
What I liked: I like the way this book is organized, it has a perfect flow for reading. The scattered illustrations by the artist Kaji add to the feel of the book, which encompasses more than the words on the page, as it is a tiny book that fits perfectly in your hands. I love it when the actual physical book complements the content so completely.
What I didn't like: Personally, I just want to read and enjoy the haiku, whether or not I'm getting all the deeper layers. In the introduction the author explains the multiple meanings of some famous haiku and it left me feeling that if I didn't understand it that way that I'm not "getting" it and that left me a bit cold.
I give this book a 4 out of 5 star rating.
What I liked: I like the way this book is organized, it has a perfect flow for reading. The scattered illustrations by the artist Kaji add to the feel of the book, which encompasses more than the words on the page, as it is a tiny book that fits perfectly in your hands. I love it when the actual physical book complements the content so completely.
What I didn't like: Personally, I just want to read and enjoy the haiku, whether or not I'm getting all the deeper layers. In the introduction the author explains the multiple meanings of some famous haiku and it left me feeling that if I didn't understand it that way that I'm not "getting" it and that left me a bit cold.
I give this book a 4 out of 5 star rating.
October 30, 2023
I know nothing of poetry in general, and even less about haiku. Even still, a solid 20% of the haiku in here give me an immediate, visceral "woah." reaction.
From memory, so apologies if I butcher this:
Along my journey
through this transitory world,
New Year's housecleaning
From memory, so apologies if I butcher this:
Along my journey
through this transitory world,
New Year's housecleaning
May 24, 2025
This was a pretty cute and short book of poetry! The version I read also had super pretty illustrations in it, will definitely be posting some of those on instagram because more people need to appreciate them!
January 11, 2019
Beautiful timeless haikus!
August 17, 2021
SO many great haiku, and a wonderful lens into some of the greatest haiku writers and their lives.
November 8, 2021
A haiku collection of brief masterpieces. Quiets the addled mind!
January 17, 2022
A beautiful little volume. Sometimes I carry it in my purse just so I can dip in when there is a lull between errands. Highly recommended!
July 20, 2023
A treasure! How the translator could create such perfect, beautiful, and sublime poetry in English from the original Japanese ...amazing.
Listing error: this edition has 125 pages.
Listing error: this edition has 125 pages.
October 16, 2023
Great book of poetry for the poetry lovers
December 15, 2023
Absolutely beautiful collection of translated haiku.
April 1, 2024
An excellent anthology with Haiku by Basho, Buson, Issa and a handful of other poets. Really liked my introduction to the works of Issa. Was moved by his strong emotion and sense of humor.
December 30, 2025
Kinda sad my favorite haiku by Bashō didn't show up in here. Other than that it was okay, I fear haiku isn't really my thing
Read
April 15, 2010Sam Hamill (ed.), The Sound of Water: Haiku by Basho, Buson, Issa, and Other Poets (Shambhala, 1995)
Very small, very concentrated book. One hundred twenty-five pages, most with two haiku per page (some pages are simple illustrations from the period). I was unfortunately too much of an idiot to keep this with me until I wrote the review so I could quote some of the world's finest haiku at you, so all I can say is trust me on this one: there's a reason these guys are known as the masters of haiku and senryu. It's also a surprising look at the earthiness of the form; too many anthologies of classic haiku seem like revisionist histories, quoting the stuff the translator or editor thinks is noble and leaving out the poems about drunkenness or taking a leak or lechery or what have you. Hamill, thankfully, has no filters (in fact, in his intro, he singles out one of Issa's fecal pieces to point out this very thing). As with a lot of books along these lines, my only problem with it is that it's far too short; it's possible to polish this off in an hour, if you don't savor each piece. Even then, it'll probably take you an afternoon. I spent a couple of weeks on it, thinking and reflecting; given a book five time this size, I would have been more than happy to sit with it for a few months. ****
Very small, very concentrated book. One hundred twenty-five pages, most with two haiku per page (some pages are simple illustrations from the period). I was unfortunately too much of an idiot to keep this with me until I wrote the review so I could quote some of the world's finest haiku at you, so all I can say is trust me on this one: there's a reason these guys are known as the masters of haiku and senryu. It's also a surprising look at the earthiness of the form; too many anthologies of classic haiku seem like revisionist histories, quoting the stuff the translator or editor thinks is noble and leaving out the poems about drunkenness or taking a leak or lechery or what have you. Hamill, thankfully, has no filters (in fact, in his intro, he singles out one of Issa's fecal pieces to point out this very thing). As with a lot of books along these lines, my only problem with it is that it's far too short; it's possible to polish this off in an hour, if you don't savor each piece. Even then, it'll probably take you an afternoon. I spent a couple of weeks on it, thinking and reflecting; given a book five time this size, I would have been more than happy to sit with it for a few months. ****
January 6, 2015
-- Basho --
At the ancient pond
a frog plunges into
the sound of water
Behind Ise Shrine,
unseen, hidden by the fence,
Buddha enters nirvana
With dewdrops dripping,
I wish somehow I could wash
this perishing world
Seas slowly darken
and the wild duck's plaintive cry
grows faintly white
Tremble, oh my gravemound,
in time my cries will be
only this autumn wind
Sick on my journey,
only my dreams will wander
these desolate moors
-- Buson --
In seasonal rain
along a nameless river
fear too has no name
-- Issa --
In the midst of this world
we stroll along the roof of hell
gawking at flowers
A world of dew,
and within every dewdrop
a world of struggle
What's the lord's vast wealth
to me, his millions and more?
Dew on trembling grass
This world of dew
is only a world of dew-
and yet
-- Anonymous --
To learn how to die
watch cherry blossoms, observe
chrysanthemums
At the ancient pond
a frog plunges into
the sound of water
Behind Ise Shrine,
unseen, hidden by the fence,
Buddha enters nirvana
With dewdrops dripping,
I wish somehow I could wash
this perishing world
Seas slowly darken
and the wild duck's plaintive cry
grows faintly white
Tremble, oh my gravemound,
in time my cries will be
only this autumn wind
Sick on my journey,
only my dreams will wander
these desolate moors
-- Buson --
In seasonal rain
along a nameless river
fear too has no name
-- Issa --
In the midst of this world
we stroll along the roof of hell
gawking at flowers
A world of dew,
and within every dewdrop
a world of struggle
What's the lord's vast wealth
to me, his millions and more?
Dew on trembling grass
This world of dew
is only a world of dew-
and yet
-- Anonymous --
To learn how to die
watch cherry blossoms, observe
chrysanthemums
June 20, 2020
i checked this book out a few weeks ago but i hadn't started reading it. i was focused on finishing the three essays i had to complete and past-due horizontal graphs sheets. i woke up in bed and i didn't move, because i wasn't looking forward to doing any work. on the table next to my bed, i took my mom's tablet that i used for an alarm and opened libby for procastination purposes and finally started to read this.
i enjoy the way images of haiku form in my mind. for someone with a vivid imagination, it's enjoyable to have my mind's eye come up with the simple image a haiku conveys. this really is a book you should open each morning or night and flip to a random page. i wish it was longer!
i enjoy the way images of haiku form in my mind. for someone with a vivid imagination, it's enjoyable to have my mind's eye come up with the simple image a haiku conveys. this really is a book you should open each morning or night and flip to a random page. i wish it was longer!
June 29, 2009
It's a small size paperback book that one can carry everywhere..Yet, it includes the best Haiku poems in Japanese literature..You can pull it out anytime and read the greatest and shortest poetry pieces you've ever tasted .. Have this book and you won't regret it.
October 31, 2011
Absolutely stunning.
One of my favorites:
True obedience:
Silently the flowers speak
To the inner ear.
And
To learn how to die
Watch cherry blossoms, observe
Chrysanthemums
Lonely silence,
A single cicada's cry
Sinking into stone (Basho)
One of my favorites:
True obedience:
Silently the flowers speak
To the inner ear.
And
To learn how to die
Watch cherry blossoms, observe
Chrysanthemums
Lonely silence,
A single cicada's cry
Sinking into stone (Basho)
Displaying 1 - 30 of 41 reviews