Three Haiku

The serene hand dives
When supple temples flutter.
Does the green sea move?

Not white, not pliant,
Yoko comes to the sunrise.
Her thin valley fails.

The low breeze leaping;
It is the open hunter.
Enchanting, I speak.

The haiku form of Japanese poetry epitomizes pith and vigor. In just three lines, and only about 17 syllables, the masters of the form are famed for their subtlety. In one brief poetical glance they may capture a fleeting perception, or a moment of insight — a transfixed living thought, still quivering. So it is said. The three haiku above were written a moment ago by Haiku Writer, a simple computer program. In just three lines, and exactly 17 syllables, Haiku Writer does its level best. One day, these poems could conceivably be all that remains of human civilization. Fortunately, they are plentiful and then some. Reload the page for a new set.

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