- Top
- -
- Manyoshu
Akita karu kariio o tsukuri waga oreba koromode samuku tsuyu zo okinikeru
As I stay in the makeshift hut I built for reaping the autumn fields, my sleeves grow cold, and the dew has settled on them.
Kono koro no akikaze samushi hagi no hana chirasu shiratsuyu okinikerashi mo
The autumn wind has grown cold these days. The white dew that scatters the bush clover blossoms must have settled.
Akita karu tomade ugoku nari shiratsuyu shi oku hoda nashi to tsuge ni kinurashi
The rush mats of the hut for reaping the autumn fields seem to stir—the white dew must have come to tell us there are no more ripe fields for it to settle on.
Haru wa moe natsu wa midori ni kurenai no madara ni miyuru aki no yama ka mo
Budding in spring, green in summer, and now dappled with crimson—how lovely is the mountain in autumn!
Tsumagomoru yano no kamuyama tsuyujimo ni nioisometari chiramaku oshi mo
The sacred mountain of Yano has begun to glow with color in the dew and frost—how I grieve to think it will scatter.
Manyoshu - Kakinomoto no Hitomaro
Asatsuyu ni nioisometaru akiyama ni shigure na furi so ariwataru gane
O showers, do not fall on the autumn mountain just beginning to glow with color in the morning dew—let it stay this way.
Manyoshu - Kakinomoto no Hitomaro
Nagatsuki no shigure no ame ni nuretōri kasuga no yama wa irozukinikeri
Drenched through by the showers of the Ninth Month, the mountain of Kasuga has taken on its autumn color.
Kari ga ne no samuki asake no tsuyu narashi kasuga no yama o momitasu mono wa
It must be the dew of the cold dawn, when the wild geese cry, that turns the mountain of Kasuga to autumn colors.
Kono koro no akatokitsuyu ni waga yado no hagi no shitaba wa irozukinikeri
With the dew before dawn these days, the lower leaves of the bush clover at my home have turned color.
Karigane wa ima wa kinakinu waga machishi momichi haya tsuge mataba kurushi mo
The wild geese have now come and cried. O autumn leaves I've waited for, follow quickly—waiting is so hard.
Akiyama o yume hito kaku na wasurenishi sono momichiba no omōyuraku ni
Never speak to me of the autumn mountains—for those autumn leaves I had forgotten come back to my mind.
Ōsaka o waga koekureba futakami ni momichiba nagaru shigure furitsutsu
As I came over the Ōsaka pass, on Mount Futakami the autumn leaves were streaming down as the showers kept falling.
Aki sareba oku shiratsuyu ni waga kado no asaji ga uraba irozukinikeri
When autumn comes, with the settling white dew, the tips of the short grass by my gate have turned color.
Imo ga sode makiki no yama no asatsuyu ni niou momichi no chiramaku oshi mo
How sad that the autumn leaves glowing in the morning dew on Mount Makiki—whose name recalls winding my beloved's sleeve—must scatter.
Momichiba no nioi wa shigeshi shikaredomo tsumanashi no ki o taori kazasamu
The glowing colors of autumn leaves are everywhere—and yet I will break a branch of the pear tree, whose name says "no wife," to wear in my hair.
Tsuyujimo no samuki yūbe no akikaze ni momichinikerashi tsumanashi no ki wa
In the autumn wind of a cold evening with dew and frost, it seems to have turned color—the pear tree whose name says "no wife."