By the Ancient Castle at Komoro

By the ancient castle at Komoro

Clouds are white; the traveller sorrowful.

The chickweed is not yet green,

And there is still no early grass to sit on.

Down the silver-covered hillside

Melted snow flows in the sun.

The light is warm, but as yet

No scent pervades the field;

Spring is still veiled;

The wheat is barely green-tinted . . .

Group after group of travellers

Hurry along the road across the fields.

At nightfall Mount Asama fades out;

The song is sad, on the reed of Saku.

Lodging at an inn near the bank

Lapped by the waves of the River Chikuma,

The traveller drinks crude saké, which is cloudy,

And consoles himself for a while.