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In the thicket's shadea woman by herselfsinging the rice-planting song

Even on the smallest islands,they are tilling the fields,skylarks singing

That pretty girl—munching and rustlingthe wrapped-up rice cake

Summer night—even the starsare whispering to each other
Translated by Robert Hass
Translated by Robert Hass

The world of dew is, yes,a world of dew,but even so

Not knowingit's a tub they're inthe fish cooling at the gate
Translated by Robert Hass
Translated by Robert Hass

These sea slugs -they just don't
Japanese
Japanese

The crowwalks along thereas if it were tilling the field
Translated by Robert Hass
Translated by Robert Hass

No doubt about it,the mountain cuckoois a crybaby
Translated by Robert Hass
Translated by Robert Hass

The man pulling radishespointed my waywith a radish

It once happenedthat a child was spared punishmentthrough earnest solicitation

My dear old village, every memory of home pierces like a thorn

Last time,
I think,
I'll brush the fliesfrom my father's face
Translated by Robert Hass
I think,
I'll brush the fliesfrom my father's face
Translated by Robert Hass

Not very anxiousto bloom,my plum tree
Translated by Robert Hass
Translated by Robert Hass

New Year's Day—everything is in blossom
I feel about average
I feel about average

Face of the spring moon—about twelve years old,
I'd say
I'd say