|Are these tender grasses to grow without the dew
Which holds itself back from the heavens that would receive it?
|It cannot be that the dew will vanish away
Ere summer comes to these early grasses of spring.
|Since first the wanderer glimpsed the fresh young grasses
His sleeves have known no respite from the dew.
|The dew of a night of travel―do not compare it
With the dew that soaks the sleeves of the mountain dweller.
|A wind strays down from the hills to end my dream,
And tears well forth at these voices upon the waters.
|These waters wet your sleeves. Our own are dry,
And tranquil our hearts, washed clean by mountain waters.
|I shall say to my city friends: 'Make haste to see
Those mountain blossoms. The winds may see them first.
|In thirty hundreds of years it blooms but once.
My eyes have seen it, and spurn these mountain cherries.
|My mountain door of pine has opened briefly
To see a radiant flower not seen before.
|Having come upon an evening blossom,
The mist is loath to go with the morning sun.
|Can we believe the mist to be so reluctant?
We shall watch the morning sky for signs of truth.
|The mountain blossoms are here beside me still.
All of myself I left behind with them.
|Brief as the time till the autumn tempests come
To scatter the flowers―so brief your thoughts of her.
|No Shallow Spring, this heart of mine believe me.
And why must the mountain spring then seem so distant?
|You drink at the mountain stream, your thoughts turn elsewhere.
Do you hope to see the image you thus disturb?
|So few and scattered the nights, so few the dreams.
Would that the dream tonight might take me with it.
|Were I to disappear in the last of dreams
Would yet my name live on in infamy?
|Seeking to follow the call of the nestling crane
The open boat is lost among the reeds.
|I long to have it, to bring it in from the moor,
The lavender that shares its roots with another.
|Rushes hide the sea grass at Wakanoura.
Must the waves that seek it out turn back to sea?
|The grass at Wakanoura were rash indeed
To follow waves that go it knows not whither.
|Lost though I seem to be in the mists of dawn,
I see your gate, and cannot pass it by.
|So difficult to pass? Then do come in.
No obstacle at all, this gate of grass.
|Thick are the dewy grasses of Musashi,
Near this grass to the grass I cannot have.
|I do not know what it is that makes you sigh.
And whatever grass can it be I am so near to?