Many in the Royal City like to gaze on the calm moon.
But is there one who thinks of the deep mountain
Or is reminded of us hidden here?
I replied:
In the dead of night, moon-gazing,
The thought of the deep mountain affrighted,
Yet longings for the mountain village
At all other moments filled my heart.
Once, towards dawn, I heard footsteps which seemed to be those of many persons coming down the mountain. I wondered and looked out. It was a herd of deer which came close to our dwelling. They cried out. It was not pleasant to hear them near by.
It is sweet to hear the love-call of a deer to its mate,
In Autumn nights, upon the distant hills.
I heard that an acquaintance had come near my residence and gone back without calling on me. So I wrote:
Even this wandering wind among the pines of the mountain—
I've heard that it departs with murmuring sound.
[That is, you are not like it. You do not speak when going away.]
In the Leaf-Falling month [September] I saw the moon more than twenty days old. It was towards dawn; the mountain-side was gloomy and the sound of the waterfall was all [I heard]. I wish that lovers [of nature] may see the after-dawn-waning moon in a mountain village at the close of an autumn night.
I went back to Kioto when the rice-fields, which had been filled with water when I came, were dried up, the rice being harvested. The young plants in their bed of water—the plants harvested—the fields dried up—so long I remained away from home.