Within the past two weeks, I have learned of deaths of two different people I once knew.
Here are some phrases from the beginning of the Hōjōki of Kamo no Chomei:
The river flows ceaselessly, but its waters are never the same. In pools the bubbles appear and are gone, pausing not a moment. So it is with humans and their dwellings in this world.
Though people are many, of those I knew, few remain. Where once were twenty or thirty, now only one or two. At morning some die, at evening others are born — bubbles on the water.
A verse from the Diamond Sutra — a Mahayana Buddhist scripture — tells us that all component things are impermanent. Someone put the verse loosely into rhyming English:
Thus shall you think of this fleeting world:
A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream,
A flash of lightning in a summer cloud,
A flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream.
And paradoxically, spring is here. Crocuses and daffodils are blooming outside my dwelling. While some things die, others are born.
Impermance, as I have said from the beginning, is behind all hokku. It is inseparable from the world we see, as well as from the seer. That is why anyone who writes about Nature and humans as a part of Nature, also writes about impermanence.
Here is a very loose translation of a hokku by Bonchō:
On the brushwood
Cut to burn —