Classic Poem

Our sovereign familiar with the eight corners,
the prince of the high-shining sun,
being a god, acting as a god acts,
leaves the capital built with thick pillars.
Through looming Mount Hatsuse,
the wild mountain path with tall trees,
he pushes down the deep-rooted rocks and blocking trees
as he crosses over with morning, a rising bird.
When evening comes, gleaming like a gem,
in the spacious field of Aki where the snow falls,
he pushes down the bannerlike pampas grass and short bamboo,
takes up his lodging on the grass-pillow journey,
and thinks of the past.

ENVOYS

Travelers lodging in the field of Aki lie down to sleep, but cannot sleep because they think of
the past

To this grass-mown wild field, because you, who passed like a yellow leaf, are remembered
here, we have come

In the east, over the field, I see the dawn glow rise; I look back — the moon has declined

The prince, the child equal to the sun, set out hunting, horses bridle to bridle — that time
has come!