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- Manyoshu
Kesa yukite asu ni wa kinamu to [unread] asazumayama ni kasumi tanabiku
"I leave this morning and will be back tomorrow," so it was said—(the third line's reading is uncertain)—and on Mount Asazuma, the "morning wife," a haze trails along.
Manyoshu - Kakinomoto no Hitomaro
Kora ga na ni kake no yoroshiki asazuma no katayamagishi ni kasumi tanabiku
At Asazuma, a name so fitting to call one's beloved by, a haze trails along the cliff where the hill falls away on one side.
Manyoshu - Kakinomoto no Hitomaro
Uchinabiku haru tachinurashi waga kado no yanagi no ure ni uguisu nakitsu
Spring, when all the grasses bend and sway, seems to have arrived: on the tips of the willow by my gate, a bush warbler has just sung.
Ume no hana sakeru okabe ni ie oreba toboshiku mo arazu uguisu no koe
Because I make my home on a hillside where the plum trees bloom, the voice of the bush warbler is never scarce for me.
Harugasumi nagaruru nae ni aoyagi no eda kuimochite uguisu naku mo
As the spring haze drifts along, a bush warbler, holding a green willow twig in its beak, is singing.
Waga seko o nakoshi no yama no yobukodori kimi yobikaese yo no fukenu to ni
O calling bird on the hill of Nakoshi, whose name says "let him not cross"—call my husband back to me before the night grows late.
Asaide ni kinaku kaodori nare da ni mo kimi ni kouru ya toki oezu naku
O kaodori that comes to sing at the weir in the morning—are even you in love with him, that you cry on without ceasing?
Fuyugomori haru sarikureba ashihiki no yama ni mo no ni mo uguisu naku mo
When spring comes round after the seclusion of winter, the bush warblers sing on the mountains and in the fields alike.
Murasaki no nebau yokono no haruno ni wa kimi o kaketsutsu uguisu naku mo
In the spring fields of Yokono, where gromwell spreads its roots, the bush warbler sings as though it keeps you in its heart.
Haru sareba tsuma o motomu to uguisu no konure o tsutai nakitsutsu motona
When spring comes, the bush warbler, seeking a mate, flits from treetop to treetop, singing on and on to no purpose, stirring my heart.
Kasuga naru hagai no yama yu saho no uchi e nakiyuku naru wa tare yobukodori
Singing as it flies from Mount Hagai in Kasuga toward the land of Saho—whom is it calling, that calling bird?
Kotaenu ni na yobitoyome so yobukodori saho no yamabe o nobori kudari ni
Though no one answers, do not call so loudly that it echoes, O calling bird, flying up and down the slopes of the Saho hills.
Azusayumi haruyama chikaku ie oreba tsugite kikuramu uguisu no koe
Since you live so near the spring hills, you must be hearing without end the voice of the bush warbler.
Uchinabiku haru sarikureba shino no ure ni oha uchifurete uguisu naku mo
When spring, with its softly bending grasses, comes round, the bush warbler sings, brushing its tail and wings against the tips of the slender bamboo.
Asagiri ni shinononi nurete yobukodori mifune no yama yu nakiwataru miyu
Drenched through in the morning mist, a calling bird can be seen crossing over from Mount Mifune, singing as it goes.
Uchinabiku haru sarikureba shikasuga ni amakumo kirai yuki wa furitsutsu
Spring, with its softly bending grasses, has come round, and yet the clouds of heaven hang heavy and the snow goes on falling.