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- Sankashu
Wakana tsumu kyō ni hatsune no ainureba matsu ni ya hito no kokoro hikuran
Today, when we gather young herbs, the first Day of the Rat has fallen as well. Is your heart drawn, then, to the pines rather than the herbs, and to waiting for someone?
Sankashu - Saigyō
Kyō wa tada omoi mo yorade kaerinan yuki tsumu nobe no wakana narikeri
Today I will simply abandon any thought of picking and go home, for these are young herbs on fields where the snow lies heaped.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Kasugano wa toshi no uchi ni wa yuki tsumite haru wa wakana no ouru narikeri
On the plain of Kasuga, snow lay heaped while the old year lasted, and now, with spring, the young herbs are coming up.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Harusame no furu no no wakana oinurashi nurenure tsuman katami tanusare
In the spring rain falling on the fields of Furu, the young herbs must already have come up. Though I get soaked, I will go and pick them, basket on my arm.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Wakana tsumu nobe no kasumi ni aware naru mukashi o tōku hedatsu to omoeba
Picking young herbs, I am deeply moved by the haze over the fields, for it seems to me to set the dear past far away.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Uzue tsuki nanakusa ni koso oinikere toshi o kasanete tsumeru wakana ni
Leaning now on a staff, it is through the seven herbs that I have grown old, through the young herbs I have picked, year after year.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Wakana ouru haru no nomori ni ware narite ukiyo o hito ni tsumi shirasebaya
I wish I could become the keeper of the spring fields where young herbs grow, and, as people come to pick them, make them know the sorrow and the sin of this world.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Ukimi nite kiku mo oshiki wa uguisu no kasumi ni musebu akebono no yama
What seems too precious for one as wretched as I to hear is the warbler on the dawn mountain, its voice choking in the haze.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Uguisu no koe zo kasumi ni morete kuru hitome tomoshiki haru no yamazato
The warbler's voice seeps through the haze to me, here in the spring mountain village where hardly anyone comes.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Uguisu no harusame samezame to nakiitaru take no shizuku ya namida naruran
In the spring rain the warbler sits weeping, crying softly. Could the drops falling from the bamboo be its tears?
Sankashu - Saigyō
Furusu utoku tani no uguisu narihateba ware ya kawarite nakan to suran
If the valley warbler grows wholly estranged from its old nest, must I then take its place and cry, both singing and weeping?
Sankashu - Saigyō
Uguisu wa tani no furusu o idenu tomo waga yukue o ba wasurezaranan
Even if the warbler leaves its old nest in the valley, I hope it will not forget where I am.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Uguisu wa ware o sumori ni tanomite ya tani no okabe wa idete nakuramu
Has the warbler left me in charge of its nest, and gone off from the valley slopes to sing elsewhere?
Sankashu - Saigyō
Haru no hodo wa waga sumu io no tomo ni narite furusu na ide so tani no uguisu
At least while spring lasts, be a friend to the hut where I live, and do not leave your old nest, warbler of the valley.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Moeizuru wakana asaru to kikoyu nari kigisu naku no no haru no akebono
It seems to be pecking at the young herbs just sprouting, so its voice suggests: a pheasant calling in the fields at dawn in spring.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Oikawaru haru no wakakusa machiwabite hara no kareno ni kigisu naku nari
Weary of waiting for the young spring grass to grow in afresh, a pheasant seems to be calling on the withered plain.
Sankashu - Saigyō