On Tsunu's coast close by the waters of Ihami

where men say there is no sheltering bay

or salty flats that furnish shell fish,

there by the shore of whale-embracing waters,

close by the sands of Watadzu's border,

the green, green seaweeds—

shore-weeds and mermaid's hair—

shaken up by morning surge,

fall, and seek a new repose.

Once wind and wave-tossed

they grow calm at last.

So, in my arms, you came to rest,

dear, whom I leave sadly.

Ten thousand times,

on every winding corner

of my lengthening way

I turn myself around and

let my wistful eye look homewards.

While ever farther recedes our home,

I journey on and climb

the steepening mountain way.

I climb away.

As a herb droops in summer

so love's burden bows me down.

O hills dissolve your massiveness

that I may see our home!

From inside the wildwood

on Takatsunu that over hangs Ihami

I wave my sleeve in farewell.

Ah, will she see my sign?

Disturbed by soft winds

the small bamboo leaves

rustle on unmoving hills

and the murmur reminds me of

the deep distress of leaving you.