Classical Poetry of Yamanashi

Stepping out at Tago Bay, I gaze— upon Fuji's soaring peak, snow falls endlessly, pure as white silk

Gazing deeply, my heart stirs with longing— among all sacred peaks rising through clouds, is this not Fuji, peerless and divine?

On Kai's mountain peaks, snow still falls— yet see how mist drifts softly across the slopes: spring has truly come.

In mist and drizzle, a day without Mount Fuji— how fascinating!

Even mighty Fuji buried and still there remains endless summer fields

Through Kai's ancient peaks, the Fuefuki River sings— chara-chara, chara-chara

First snow falls— the mountains of Kai wear a dusting of powder

At spring's first light— Fuji's layered peaks wear a faint woven mist

On Fuji's slopes, the pastures sleep in mist— far off, the horses stir like shadows, barely moving, barely there.

O traveler crossing Kai's wide plains— pause and behold Mount Fuji blazoned crimson by autumn's breath