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- Shika Wakashu
Samidare no hi o furu mama ni Suzukagawa yaso se no nami zo koe masaru naru
As the early-summer rains fall on and the days pass, the waves in the many shallows of the Suzuka River can be heard growing louder and louder.
Wagimoko ga koya no shinoya no samidare ni ikade hosuramu natsubiki no ito
In the bamboo-thatched hut at Koya where my beloved lives, how can she possibly dry the summer-drawn thread in these endless early-summer rains?
Shika Wakashu - Oe no Masafusa
Samidare ni Naniwa Horie no miotsukushi mienu ya mizu no masaru naruramu
In the early-summer rains the channel markers in the Naniwa canal can no longer be seen; can it be that the water has risen over them?
Moshio yaku Suma no urabito uchitaete itoi ya suramu samidare no sora
Have the people of Suma Bay, who burn seaweed to make salt, given up their work entirely, and do they now loathe these skies of early-summer rain?
Shika Wakashu - Koben
Satsukiyami hanatachibana ni fuku kaze wa ta ga sato made ka nioiyukuramu
In the darkness of the Fifth Month, the wind blowing over the mandarin orange blossoms—to whose village, I wonder, will it carry their fragrance?
Shika Wakashu - Ryōzen
Yado chikaku hanatachibana wa horiueji mukashi o shinobu tsuma to narikeri
I will not dig up and plant orange blossoms near my home, for I have found that they only become a cause of yearning for the past.
Shika Wakashu - Retired Emperor Kazan
Usuku koku kakiho ni niou nadeshiko no hana no iro ni zo tsuyu mo okikeru
Pale and deep, the pinks glow along the hedge, and the dew too has settled on each in keeping with the color of its flower.
Tane makishi waga nadeshiko no hanazakari iku asatsuyu no okite mitsuramu
The pinks I sowed from seed myself are now in full bloom; on how many mornings when the dew lay have I risen to gaze at them?
Shika Wakashu - Fujiwara no Akisue
Naku koe mo kikoenu mono no kanashiki wa shinobi ni moyuru hotaru narikeri
What is so sad, though it makes no cry that anyone can hear, is the firefly, burning away in secret.
Shika Wakashu - Fujiwara no Takato
Satsukiyami ukawa ni tomosu kagaribi no kazu masu mono wa hotaru narikeri
In the darkness of the Fifth Month, what seems to multiply the fishing fires lit on the cormorant river turns out to be fireflies.
Shika Wakashu - Unknown Poet
Kaze fukeba kawabe suzushiku yoru nami no tachikaerubeki kokochi koso sene
When the wind blows the riverbank grows cool, and unlike the waves that wash in and turn back, I have no heart at all to turn and go home.
Somagawa no ikada no toko no ukimakura natsu wa suzushiki fushi to narikeri
On the timber river, the bed upon the raft with its floating pillow turns out, in summer, to be a cool place to lie.
Shika Wakashu - Sone no Yoshitada
Matsu hodo ni natsu no yo itaku fukenureba oshimi mo aenu yama no ha no tsuki
While I waited, the summer night grew so late that I hardly had time to lament it before it was gone—the moon on the mountain's rim.
Shika Wakashu - Minamoto no Michinari
Kawakami ni yūdachi surashi mikuzu seku yanase no sanami tachisawaku nari
An evening shower must be falling upstream, for at the fish weir that holds back the drifting debris the ripples are rising and churning.
Shika Wakashu - Sone no Yoshitada
Tsune yori mo nageki ya suramu Tanabata wa awamashi kure o yoso ni nagamete
Is the Weaver Maid grieving more than in other years, gazing from afar at the evening when they would have met?
Shitamomiji hitoha zutsu chiru ko no shita ni aki to oboyuru semi no koe kana
Beneath the tree whose lower leaves, already red, are falling one by one, the cicadas' song sounds just like autumn.
Shika Wakashu - Sagami