Classic Poem

Fishermen's faces were seen first, then the poppy flowers

The sky in the middle of the fourth month was still hazy, and the moon of the fleeting short night quite alluring, the mountains dark with young leaves. It was time for cuckoos to appear, calling, when the eastern clouds began to turn white beyond the sea:
Fishermen's faces were seen first, then the poppy flowers

A cuckoo fades away, and in its direction, a single islandEnglishMatsuo BashoShort Poems