Haiku masters were expected to write a final death poem; here are the big 3.
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falling ill on a journey
my dreams go wandering
over withered fields
– Basho, 1644-1694
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the night almost past
through the white plum blossoms
a glimpse of dawn
– Buson, 1716-1784
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a bath when you’re born
a bath when you die
how stupid
– Issa, 1763-1828
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then there’s
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Death poems
are mere delusion —
death is death
– Toko, 1710–1795
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and, while not haiku, still most excellent…
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Bury me when I die
beneath a wine barrel
in a tavern.
With luck
the cask will leak.
Moriya Sen’an (d. 1838)
