English

At Takadachi in Oshu:
Summer grass: where the warriors used to dream

At night secretly a worm bores a chestnut under the moon

At my house small mosquitoes are the best I can offer

As if touching a boil a willow bends

An old pond: a frog jumps in — the sound of water

Eightfold camellia blossom that opens on my tongue full of love
Droplet of honeydew that collects at the tip of the petal
Drop of costly perfumed oil that trembles on the alembic
Thrust forward by thoughts of tender love, I press my lips
To the camellia, to the alembic, to the widemouthed jar —
Joyous glitter
That spouts and goes down into hell, my throat
Frothy honey liquor that brims over the widemouthed pot
And spills along the shapely furrow, leaving a gleaming trail —
It was stored through seasons of lasting fog and hail

Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee
Our love and toil in the years to be;
When we are grown and take our place
As men and women with our race.

Father in Heaven who lovest all,
Oh, help Thy children when they call;
That they may build from age to age
An undefiled heritage.

Teach us to bear the yoke in youth,
With steadfastness and careful truth;
That, in our time, Thy Grace may give
The Truth whereby the Nations live.

Teach us to rule ourselves alway,
Controlled and cleanly night and day;

When first by Eden Tree
The Four Great Rivers ran,
To each was appointed a Man
Her Prince and Ruler to be.

But after this was ordained
(The ancient legends tell),
There came dark Israel,
For whom no River remained.

Then He Whom the Rivers obey
Said to him: " Fling on the ground
A handful of yellow clay,
And a Fifth Great River shall run,
Mightier than these Four,
In secret the Earth around;
And Her secret evermore,
Shall be shown to thee and thy Race. "

So it was said and done.

If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet,
Don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street,
Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie.
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Five and twenty ponies
Trotting through the dark —
Brandy for the Parson,
'Baccy for the Clerk;
Laces for a lady, letters for a spy,
And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!

Running round the woodlump if you chance to find

Prophets have honour all over the Earth,
Except in the village where they were born,
Where such as knew them boys from birth
Nature-ally hold 'em in scorn.
When Prophets are naughty and young and vain,
They make a won'erful grievance of it;
(You can see by their writings how they complain),
But O, 'tis won'erful good for the Prophet!

There's nothing Nineveh Town can give
(Nor being swallowed by whales between),
Makes up for the place where a man's folk live,
Which don't care nothing what he has been.