On the Lake

湖上／中原中也

ポッカリ月が出ましたら、
舟を浮べて出掛けませう。
波はヒタヒタ打つでせう、
風も少しはあるでせう。

沖に出たらば暗いでせう、
櫂（かい）から滴垂（したた）る水の音は
昵懇しいものに聞こえませう、
――あなたの言葉の杜切（とぎ）れ間を。

月は聴き耳立てるでせう、
すこしは降りても来るでせう、
われら接唇（くちづけ）する時に
月は頭上にあるでせう。

あなたはなほも、語るでせう、
よしないことや拗言（すねごと）や、
洩らさず私は聴くでせう、
――けれど漕ぐ手はやめないで。

ポッカリ月が出ましたら、
舟を浮べて出掛けませう、
波はヒタヒタ打つでせう、
風も少しはあるでせう。

Narrated Japanese Poetry with Soundscape – Read by Tsukiyonokarasu

On the Lake / Chūya Nakahara

Literal Translation

If the moon floats into view,
Let’s set afloat a little boat.
The water will gently lap at the sides,
And there will be a little wind.

When we go deeper into the lake, it will grow dark.
The soft drip of water from the oar
Will sound like a dear companion—
The hush between your words.

The moon will listen in the stillness,
It may descend a little, too.
And as our lips softly meet,
It will hover just above.

Still, you’ll murmur—
Little sulks and whims.
I’ll listen to every word,
But don’t stop rowing.

If the moon floats into view,
Let’s set afloat a little boat.
The waves will gently lap again,
And there will be a little wind.

This translation of Chūya Nakahara’s On the Lake is an attempt to capture the poem’s subtle emotional tones and atmospheric depth, going beyond a literal rendering of words. The aim is to convey its quiet intimacy and poetic rhythm in a way that resonates with English-speaking readers.

Several intentional choices were made to preserve the original’s nuance and texture:

“Po-kkari” (ぽっかり):
Rather than translating this onomatopoeia as “plump,” which refers more to shape than movement, the phrase “floats into view” was chosen. It evokes the image of the moon appearing softly and gracefully—emphasizing the poem’s peaceful, unhurried beginning.

“Hita-hita” (ヒタヒタ):
This expression suggests a soft, repetitive sound—gentle rather than loud. It was rendered as “the water will gently lap at the sides,” which avoids the sense of crashing waves and instead paints a picture of calm, rhythmic movement that fits the tranquil lakeside setting.

“Chika-shii” (昵懇しい):
To express the intimacy in this word, the phrase “a dear companion” was used. Here, the sound of dripping water from the oar is not merely background noise—it becomes a familiar, comforting presence, almost like a friend sharing the quiet with the speaker.

“Kikimimi tateru” (聞き耳たてる):
Though often used to describe someone eavesdropping or listening intently, this was translated as “listen in the stillness.” The intent is to portray the moon not just as hearing, but as silently bearing witness to a private, delicate moment—imbuing it with quiet reverence.

“Sune-goto” (拗言):
Rather than harsher translations like “complaints” or “grumbling,” the phrase “little sulks and whims” was chosen to reflect the affectionate, almost childlike tone. These are the kinds of endearing grievances shared only in the intimacy of a close relationship.

By making these choices, the translation seeks to preserve the poem’s emotional delicacy and subtle atmosphere. More than simply offering a word-for-word equivalent, it invites readers to experience the hush of the lake, the stillness of the night, and the tender, unspoken feelings between two people under the quiet gaze of the moon.

This interpretation reflects Tsukiyonokarasu’s personal reading of the poem at the time of writing, and is not intended as a definitive or scholarly analysis.

Poetic Translation

Now that the moon has quietly slipped into view,
Shall we set a little boat adrift, just the two of us?
The waves will whisper against the sides,
And perhaps, we’ll feel a touch of breeze.

As we drift farther into the dark of the lake,
a drop of water falls from the oar—
a sound close and familiar,
softly filling the hush your voice leaves behind.

Surely the moon is listening, quiet and unseen,
Perhaps it even drifts a little closer—
And when our lips gently meet,
It will be there, watching from above.

You’ll still murmur—
quiet protests, little whims.
I’ll take them all in.
—Just keep rowing, even through the dark.

Now that the moon has quietly slipped into view,
Shall we set a little boat adrift, just the two of us?
The waves will whisper against the sides,
And perhaps, we’ll feel a touch of breeze.

This translation of Chūya Nakahara’s “On the Lake” aims to faithfully convey not only the literal meaning of the poem but also its emotional depth and haunting atmosphere.

The phrase “—Just keep rowing, even through the dark.” captures a crucial moment in the poem. Here, the “dark” symbolizes the unknown depths of the lake—metaphorically, the uncertain, possibly tragic path the couple takes together.

The act of continuing to row despite the darkness represents a quiet determination and acceptance of the inevitable. It reflects a willingness to face the depths—both literal and emotional—without turning back. This image evokes a sense of profound intimacy, vulnerability, and the bittersweet beauty of shared fate.

While the poem subtly suggests a journey that might lead to an end as inevitable as sinking into the dark waters, it is not merely a narrative of despair. Rather, it is a delicate and tender portrayal of connection, courage, and poignant love amid uncertainty.

This translation strives to preserve this subtle balance of melancholy and hope, inviting readers to feel the silent strength of the poem’s quiet yet resolute progression.

This interpretation reflects Tsukiyonokarasu’s personal reading of the poem at the time of writing, and is not intended as a definitive or scholarly analysis.

Some translations have been changed to make the lyrics.

I’ve approached each poem with care and time—reading, translating, listening, and creating—always as a quiet collaboration with the poet.
These works reflect not just the poem itself, but also the moments of silence, discovery, and emotion that arose between us.

You’re invited into that space—not to copy, but to feel.

Listen on Soundcloud

TsukiyonoKarasu · On the Lake – A Japanese Poem in Sound（湖上／中原中也）

Echoes from Chūya’s Ink

Sensation

This page weaves together Chuya Nakahara’s Japanese translation of Rimbaud’s Sensation, my own English interpretation based on Nakahara’s text, and fragments of the original French poem. By blending these voices, the song becomes a layered conversation across time and language—an homage to the resonance between two poetic souls. Unfold the Rest
Deathbed

Nakahara Chuya’s poem Rinju (“At Deathbed”) is translated into English and reimagined through music. It depicts the quiet passage of a soul fading into the sky, a gentle elegy for what has been lost. The original poem, its translation, the translator’s notes, and the accompanying music and video together form a single, unified world. Unfold the Rest
Moonlit Beach

Experience Nakahara Chuya’s Moonlit Shore in multiple forms—literal translation, interpretive rendering, musical adaptation, and a translator’s note reflecting on grief, memory, and poetic silence. Unfold the Rest

About Chūya Nakahara

Chūya Nakahara was a Japanese poet known for his lyrical and emotionally resonant verse. Born in Yamaguchi Prefecture, he began writing poetry at a young age, influenced early on by French Symbolists such as Verlaine and Rimbaud. His work is marked by a deep musicality, reflecting both the rhythms of language and the undercurrents of personal grief.

Many of Nakahara’s poems explore themes of sorrow, loneliness, and impermanence—often drawn from his own experiences of loss, including the early death of his brother and his struggles with illness. Despite a short life—he died of tuberculosis at the age of 30—he left behind a body of work that continues to move readers with its delicate yet powerful expression.

Nakahara’s poetic voice stands apart in modern Japanese literature. With its blend of romantic sensitivity and avant-garde experimentation, his writing remains widely studied and admired in Japan. While less known internationally, his poetry is increasingly being appreciated through translation and cross-media interpretations.

This site presents selected works of Nakahara alongside musical and spoken-word adaptations, offering a new way to experience the poignant cadence of his poetry.

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