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- Sankashu
Somabito no maki no kariya no adabushi ni oto suru mono wa arare narikeri
To the makeshift bed of the woodcutter in his hut of cypress boughs, the only thing that comes calling with a sound is the hail.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Tada wa ochide eda o tsutaeru arare kana tsubomeru hana no chiru kokochi shite
The hail does not simply fall but runs along the branches, as though the cherry's tightly closed buds were scattering.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Kagiri aran kumo koso arame sumigama no keburi ni tsuki no susukenuru kana
If it were clouds, whose hiding of the moon must end, that would be one thing; but the moon has been blackened with soot by the smoke of the charcoal kilns.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Awajishima isowa no chidori koe shigemi seto no shiokaze saewataru yo wa
How thick the cries of the plovers along the rocky shores of Awaji Island, on nights when the salt wind through the strait blows freezing cold.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Awajishima seto no shiohi no yūgure ni Suma yori kayou chidori naku nari
At dusk, when the tide has ebbed in the strait off Awaji Island, I hear the plovers crying as they fly across from Suma.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Shimo saete migiwa fukeyuku urakaze o omoishirige ni naku chidori kana
With the frost frozen hard and the night growing late at the water's edge, the plovers cry as though they knew too well the bitterness of the wind off the inlet.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Sayuredomo kokoroyasuku zo kikiakasu kawase no chidori tomo gushitekeri
Though the night is bitterly cold, I listen with a peaceful heart until dawn; the plovers in the river shallows, I find, have their companions with them.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Yasewataru minato no kaze ni tsuki fukete shio hiru kata ni chidori naku nari
In the wind over the harbor where the waters thin to shallows, the moon has sunk late into the night, and toward the flats the ebbing tide has bared I hear the plovers crying.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Chidori naku Eshima no ura ni sumu tsuki o nami ni utsushite miru koyoi kana
Tonight I gaze at the moon shining clear over the bay of Eshima, where plovers cry, mirrored on the waves.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Iwama yuku konoha wakekoshi yamamizu o tsuyu morasanu wa kōri narikeri
The mountain water that ran between the rocks and threaded its way through the fallen leaves is held now without a single drop let through: it is the ice that stops it.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Minakami ni mizu ya kōri o musuburan kuru tomo mienu taki no shiraito
Has the water upstream knotted itself into ice? The white threads of the waterfall seem neither to come down nor to be spooled out.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Kōri waru ikada no sao no tayukereba mochi ya kosamashi Hotsu no yamagoe
Pushing the raft along with my pole, breaking the ice, my arms have grown so weary; shall I simply carry it over the mountain pass at Hotsu?
Sankashu - Saigyō
Hana mo kare momiji mo chiranu yamazato wa sabishisa o mata tou hito mogana
In this mountain village where the flowers have withered and no autumn leaves remain to fall, I wish someone would come again, this time to call on its loneliness.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Hitori sumu katayamakage no tomo nare ya arashi ni haruru fuyu no yamazato
Could it be a friend to me, living alone in the shade of the hillside: the winter mountain village, swept clear and bright by the storm?
Sankashu - Saigyō
Tsu no kuni no ashi no maroya no sabishisa wa fuyu koso wakete toubekarikere
The loneliness of a reed-thatched hut in the land of Tsu is something one should visit in winter, above all other seasons.
Sankashu - Saigyō
Sayuru yo wa yoso no sora ni zo oshi mo naku kōrinikeri na Koya no ikemizu
On this freezing night even the mandarin ducks are crying in some other sky; the water of Koya Pond must have frozen over.
Sankashu - Saigyō