On the roads of Yamashiro

On the roads of Yamashiro
where the chloranthus grows,
other women's husbands
ride on horseback,
but my husband
plods along on foot,
and each time I see it
all I do is cry,
whenever I think of it
my heart pains me.
This precious mirror of mine,
a keepsake
from my mother
of the sagging breasts,
this scarf thin as dragonfly wing —
take them, husband,
and buy yourself a horse!


At the Izumi River crossing
the shoals are so deep,
my husband's traveling clothes
get soaked right through!

This precious mirror I own
means nothing to me
when I see you
to make your way on foot
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