Even in Kyoto
hearing a cuckoo
Basho missed Kyoto

Basho missed Kyoto
which is just a word to me
but I hear Basho

I hear Basho when
the rain beats the windshield
and I miss the rain

In driving rain, the
Starving orphan screamed
And Basho left, alone

And Basho left alone
Everything he caught
In wry, nostalgic lines

In wry, nostalgic lines
I read of Kyoto, which is just
a word to me

A word, to me, is
A row of letters that miss
Basho’s silky thought

Basho’s silky thought
comes to me as I watch the rain,
missing the rain