Pathway to Japanese Literature

To Japanese children

Preface

Mother Goose of nursery rhymes lived high above in a beautiful blue sky, riding upon a large, splendid goose to soar through those heavens and glide airily near the moon-dwellers as lightly as snow—or so they say.
When Grandmother Mother Goose plucked white feathers from that goose, they would flutter earthward like snowfall, each transforming into paper upon landing—paper inscribed with children’s most beloved songs—so British mothers might always read these aloud to their little ones, or so they say.
I imagine it remains so even now.
Thus one cannot fathom how dearly those British children—who heard these tales from their mothers and received these dreamlike songs—cherish that golden-egg-laying goose and Grandmother Mother Goose.

But to tell the truth, Mother Goose was indeed a person who lived in this same world as we do.
She was not someone who dwelled in the sky next to the moon.
She loved children and, just as that goose laid golden eggs, steadily scattered beautiful nursery rhymes like those found in this book among them.
What a blessed Mother Goose she was!

That old woman called Goose had been born in North America—then a British colony—some two hundred years prior.
This grandmother possessed one small grandson.
Finding this grandson utterly endearing, she resolved to bring him joy through things he would love, seeking to make his innocent beautiful dreams ever more lovely, profound, and rich with charm.
Thus she naturally began crafting various delightful nursery rhymes.
Truly, that child remained precious beyond measure.

At first, these were likely just stories told or songs sung with simple melodies without much forethought, but since such things prove easily forgotten, they began committing them to writing as memoranda. And so, as they did this, the writings they had preserved increased one by one and two by two until before long they were compiled into a single volume—or so it must have been.

That old woman had an adopted son named Thomas Fleet.
He was a printer.
So he thought to print those precious songs Mother had graciously sung for her own son, wanting to bring joy not only to his son but also to many other children.
And so this Mother Goose nursery rhyme book was first printed and came to be widely read by the world.
It was the year 1719 in the Western calendar, when England’s king was His Majesty George I.

And so, these Mother Goose nursery rhymes were quite old.
They were old, yet remained forever new.
Truly good things stayed forever new, just as they had been long ago.
Even considering this, one could not fathom how much happier British children had become since the book’s publication.
Those children grew up, and time and again new adorable children were born—and time and again they grew up singing Mother Goose’s lullabies.
Moreover, those made happy since this book was published were not limited to British children alone.
Of course this included children in countries using the English language, but as the rhymes had been translated into tongues of various nations worldwide, all children in those lands must surely have been made happy too.
Moreover, they had been set to sundry melodies and seemed to be widely sung.

Thus, there were books featuring such illustrations as: an old woman with a goose—its red beak and red webbed feet—perched on a chair, cradling a tiny goose with similarly red little beak and little webbed feet on her lap as she opened a crimson book; an old woman wearing a tricorn hat with a ribbon, a goose quill pen tucked into it, sitting at a table writing something while a large goose beside her opened its beak and peered down with eyes narrowed small as pinheads; the goose and the old woman soaring through the sky; the white hen-like goose dropping golden eggs into green pastures; and many others.

In Japan, mine was the first.
For Japanese children, I had this Mother Goose come to the skies above Japan.
And thus I had her scatter those goose feathers—each inscribed with a song—fluttering down from the sky.
Because the script on those feathers was English, I held each one up to peach-colored moonlight, transposing them into Japanese words to sing for you—the dear children of Japan.
And because I rewrote them while singing so all could join, everyone can sing them.
“Try singing them,” I say.
“They’re quite amusing.”

Within these nursery rhymes were dances of cows leaping over the moon on nights bathed in blue and fresh green light; red-breasted small birds whose deaths prompted white-billed crows to chant sutras; twenty-four blackbirds bursting into song from pie dishes before Kings; London temple bells booming “Bread and rice crackers!”; ladybug daughters crawling under pudding pots as their homes burned; dark-skinned children swallowed whole by crimson herrings; old women ascending past the moon in baskets sweeping through soot-stained azure skies; old women flustered by shoes overstuffed with children; Kings pilfering three pounds of cracked wheat to craft sweets; gentlemen tinier than thumbs; clever lads sailing seas atop crimson bowls; mad parent-child pairs galloping wildly on deranged horses—all these wonders so mystifyingly beautiful yet absurdly hilarious, pitiful yet infuriatingly laughable and song-inducing! Read them slowly—truly slowly—and may you imprint upon your hearts moonlit skies and dawn-dusk hues far more wondrous than before, ever deepening the beauty gracing your dreams.

If that were to happen, I cannot tell you how happy I would be.

The nursery rhymes in this book are mainly translated from Mother Goose, but I have also added many other different ones from children’s songs sung in Britain and America. I have included various finger plays, face games, blind man’s bluff, ladder step games, and other play-rhymes with activities different from those in Japan toward the end of the book. I would be delighted if you would all try them together.

I still wish to write and send many more things for you all, but I myself shall now truly focus my efforts and, like the goose laying golden eggs, steadily release truly good nursery rhymes one by one as I go forward.

Now then, please begin by reading the golden egg song found at the start of this book. When you do, surely the goose will carry you all on its back and soar high up to near the moon.

September 1921

At the Owl’s House

Authored by Hakushū

Prelude

Mother Goose’s Song

Grandmother Mother Goose,

Whenever she went walking,

riding on the back of the beautiful goose,

soared freely through the sky.

The house where Mother Goose dwells,
One, snug, in the forest,

At the entrance, one owl

It stands keeping watch.

There was a son, an only child, whose name was Jack,

The child was fairly good-natured,

While he didn’t perform any substantial good deeds,

He couldn’t manage cunning mischief either.

When she sent Jack to the market,

He buys a female goose,

“Oh, come on, Mother—come take a look,

“In time, good things will come, I tell you.”

And then the female goose and the male goose

And then the female goose and the male goose are playing together, thick as thieves.

They were always eating feed together,

Quack quack, they were swimming in the pond.

One morning, when Jack went to check,

(as the story is often told)

There was a golden egg.

The one who had laid it was the female goose.

“It’s a golden egg—quick, tell her!”

Jack flew off to his mother.

Mother was beaming with delight.

“That’s splendid—oh, well done!”

Jack went out to sell the egg.

The Jewish villain tried to buy it,

thinking not even to offer half the price,

and slickly tricked Jack.

Jack went off to take a bride.
The young lady over there loved extravagance,
So cute, so beautiful,
Like a flowering hawthorn, as fair as a lily.

Just then, they began following from behind.

The Jew and the fashionable sycophants,

Aiming at his flank, they moved to strike,

They pounced on poor Jack.

At that moment, swiftly slipping in,

Mother Goose, the grandmother,

With her cane, Mother Goose gave Jack a light tap,

He transformed into the clown＊ Harlequin.

Next, the grandmother raised her cane,

The grandmother lightly tapped the pretty young lady,
Immediately, that child transformed as well,
That was indeed the adorable **Columbine.
The golden egg was in the sea,
was thrown away amidst the commotion.
But Jack jumped in,
and took it back once more.

So, the Jewish bastard who took the female goose
blustered, “Kill it!”
After splitting it open, he’d sell this thing off,
filling his pockets with a hefty profit.
When Jack’s mother saw that,
immediately snatching the goose,
and, mounting its back,
she flew off toward the moon.

＊ Harlequin.
He is the male role in a clown play.

** Columbine.
This is the female role.

Mother Goose

The Small Bird's Funeral

"Who killed the male small bird?"

"That was me."
The Sparrow declared.

"With my bow,
with my arrow feathers,
I killed the male small bird."

"Who found it? Who found the dead?"

"That was me."
The Fly stated.

"With my own eyes,
these tiny eyes,
I found it, I found that corpse."

"Who took it? Who took that blood?"

“That was me.”
The Fish said this.

“In my dish, in my little dish,

I took it, I took that blood.”

“Who will make it? Who will make the burial shroud?”

“That was me.”
The Beetle said this.
“With my thread, with my needle,
I will make it—I will make the burial shroud.”

“Who will inscribe it? Who will inscribe the posthumous Buddhist name?”

“That was me.”
The Lark said this.

“If it is bright, if it is crimson,

“I will inscribe it, I will inscribe the posthumous Buddhist name.”

“Who will stand? Who will stand at the funeral?”

“That was me.”
The Dove said this.

“I’ll bury it for you, poor thing,

I’ll stand, I’ll stand at the funeral.”

“Who will dig it? Who will dig the grave’s hole?”

“That was me.”
The Owl said this.

“With my trowel，my little trowel，”

“I’ll dig it—I’ll dig the grave’s hole．”

“Who’ll become it？Who’ll become the monk？”

“That was me.”
The Rook said this.
“With a sutra book in hand, with a small book in hand,
I will become it! I will become the monk!”

“Who will ring it? Who will ring the bell?”

“That was me.”
The Ox said this.

“I can ring it—I have the strength,”

“I will ring it—I will ring the bell!”

From the sky above, all the little birds
sighed and sobbed,
they all heard the tolling bell—
the funeral bell of the pitiful little bird.

Moonlit Night

Heave-ho, hup-hup, heave-ho!

The cat played the fiddle,

The cow jumped over the moon,

The little dog saw that and began to laugh,

The dishes chased the spoons.

Heave-ho, hup-hup, heave-ho!

Chibisuke the Indian Mouse

Chibisuke the Indian Mouse,

Because he was tiny, he never got fat.
He was always trotting about on his little feet,
When it was time to eat, he never held back.
Now, if he darted out from there,
He was certainly no longer there.
If you listened, when he was running,
In any case, he wasn't sitting still.
His squeaking was an everyday occurrence; his wild rampages were occasional.
When he made noise and yelled, he never stayed quiet.

Even without being taught by a cat,
it was well known that a harvest mouse was no ordinary mouse.
Now, there was a reliable rumor—
one day, he suddenly went mad and died in a strange way—this was that story.
The shrewd crowbar-pulling people
kept insisting: "That bastard's kicked the bucket—no way he's still alive."

The Tree-Climbing Monkey

The tree-climbing monkey,
When he fell—well—he fell.

On the stone sat a stiff-necked crow,
When it flew off—not a shadow remained.

The apple-biting old landlady,
When she ate two—she ate them paired.

The watermill’s trusty packhorse,
When it came—it never stood still.

The thumb-snipping cow slayer,
When injured—bled where they were wounded.

The attendant who goes racing along,

When they needed to hurry, they ran at full speed.

When they hastily mended old shoes,

When they mended them, they had just finished.

The candle maker made candles,

When they pulled one out of the mold, they held it in their hand.

The fleet that had set sail for Spain,

When they returned, they had come back all over again.

Walnut.

A small green house stood alone.

Inside the small green house,

A small golden-brown house stood alone.

Inside the small golden-brown house,

A small yellow house stood alone.
Inside that small yellow house,
There was a small white house.
Within that small white house,
Lay but a single tiny heart.

Bombay’s chubby one

There was a single chubby one in Bombay.

One day, in the sunny spot, the chubby one was smoking tobacco.

There came suddenly a small bird called Hashigi,

Snatched the pipe and swiftly flew off again.

At that, Bombay’s chubby one grew impatient.

Sixpence Song

Sing, sing the Sixpence Song.

In the bag lies reward wheat.

Twenty-four blackbirds,

Roasted and enclosed in the pie.

At the moment when the pie crust peeled off,

At once, the small birds began to sing.

Originally meant for the King’s offering.

What a beautiful plate—isn’t that splendid?

“The King is at the Exchequer,

Counting his money.

The Queen is in the parlor,

Please have some bread and honey.

The maid is in the garden,

She is diligently hanging out the laundry.

There, a small bird came flying,

“Flicked sharply—the maid’s nose.”

One O’Clock

Tick-tock, tick-tock, oh my, oh my!

A mouse climbs up the clock.

The grandfather clock chimes.

The mouse scampered down.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, oh my, oh my!

Egg

On the white marble wall, like milk,

coated with a thin, supple membrane of silk,

Inside the exquisitely hollowed-out well,

A golden apple could be seen.

Because the castle had not a single door,

Even thieves broke in and stole away the golden apple.

Morning glow, evening glow
Morning glow, small glow,

The shepherd’s worry.

Evening glow, small glow,

The shepherd’s afterlife bliss.

When the wind blows,

When the wind blows,

Spins round,

The mill wheel!

When the wind stops,

It stops,

The mill wheel!

The Penniless

Bunzaburou, penniless—as they came to kidnap Bunzaburou,

The thieves came.

He ran, he ran—scrambled right up to the bare peak of the chimney.

“Got ’em, got ’em!” the thieves shouted triumphantly as they gave chase.

Seeing this, Bunzaburou stealthily escaped down the other side.

Now that it had come to this, he wouldn’t be caught.

He ran, he ran—fourteen miles in fifteen days,

And so, he looked back—but by then, there was no one in sight.

Faust Kokushu

Faust Kokushu was a good person and,

Sometimes, he would slap his disciples.
Slapping them, making them dance, and driving them out,
leaving England for France,
leaving France for Spain,
and then again, slapping them and sending them back.

Trot Trot Mr. Barber

Trot, trot, Mr. Barber,

Pig’s hair, hand it over,

The wig’s cut is a bit off, but

How many strands of that hair would suffice?

Twenty-four strands are plenty.

They greet with a snort of the nose.

Inside the shoe,

Inside the shoe, there resides an old woman,

A whole slew of children—she couldn’t manage them,
Only gruel—she gave them neither bread nor anything,

Moreover, she gave them a sound thrashing,

Sleepy-bye, sleepy-bye, these little ones.

On one stone

On one stone, two little birds.

Fa ra ra ra rarudo.

One flew away, one remained.

Fa ra ra ra rarudo.

Another flew away, there was no one left.

Fa ra ra ra rarudo.

Only a single stone remained.
Only one remained.

Fa ra ra ra rarudo.

King Kōru the Old

The elderly King Kōru was a cheerful old man,

Cheerful old man,
He had them fetch his pipe at once and his sake cup right away,
And summoned about three kokyu players.

Every kokyu player had a fine kokyu,
The best among them was the king’s kokyu,
Tsui tsui zuru dei, tsui zuru dei……
There now! The kokyu players began to play—do listen.
Who could compare? Rarely would there be another!
King Kōru and his kokyu players, you know.

Rain, rain, go away
Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day,
Come out quickly now, let’s play!

In the flowerbed, a pig

In the garden flowerbed, a pig appeared.
Go catch it!

A cow came to the wheat field.

Run, run, boy!

In Crime’s pot, there was a cat.

Run, run, girl!

A mountain fire.

Run, run, boy!

Sunshower

Sunshower,

A sunshower cannot last even half an hour.

In the shadow of the brambles
In the shadow of the brambles,

Hunger, cold.

In the shade where flowers bloom,

Platinum, gold.

St. Clement’s bells

Climb up hurry-scurry, climb down now,

The bells are London’s; when rung, they are countless.

“Oranges and lemons”

St. Clement’s bells ring.

“Target and target’s star”
St. Margaret’s bells rang.

“Brick and roof tile”
St. Giles’s bells rang.

“Halfpenny and *farthing”
St. Martin’s bells rang.

“Sweet breads and rice crackers”
St. Peter’s bells rang.

“Two branches and one apple”
White Chapel’s bells rang.

“Ash shovel and fire tongs”
St. John’s bells rang.

“Kettle and pot”

St. Anne’s bells rang.

“Old Man Baldpeet,”

Oldergate’s cursed bell.

“You owe me ten shillings.”

St. Helen’s bells rang.

“When’re ya gonna pay me?”

Old Beeree’s bells rang.

“If I ever get rich...”

Shoreditch’s bells rang.

“Then I’ll ask you when that time comes.”

Stepney’s bells rang.

“Ain’tcha gonna pay me?”

The sound of Bow’s great bell.

Here it comes—the handheld lantern has come to light your bed.

Here it comes—the executioner to chop off your head.

* A farthing is one-fourth of a penny.

Horseback Ride

The lady’s horseback ride—

Clip-clip-clop,

Clip-clip-clop.

The lady’s horseback ride goes like this, there!

Clip-clip-clop.
Clip-clip-clop.

The gentleman’s horseback ride—

Gallop-a-trot.

Gallop-a-trot.

The gentleman’s horseback ride goes like this—there!

Gallop-a-trot, gallop-a-trot.

The farmer’s horseback ride—

Hobbledehoy,

Hobbledehoy.

The farmer’s horseback ride went like this—ha!

Hobbledehoy, Hobbledehoy.

On the path—a girl—

By the path’s edge stood a girl,

muttering something she couldn’t quite articulate clearly,

Clomp, clomp, clomp-clomp.

On a distant hillock, a man,

Though he stands, he can’t keep still,

Pop! Pop! Pop went he.

The person in the moon
The person in the moon
Rolled and fell
On the road heading north
Went south
With stiff pea soup
Burned his tongue.

Ten little Black children
There were ten—ten little Black children there were.
They were called to lunch and went.
One choked on their throat.
Thereby, they became nine.
There were nine—nine little Black children there were.
Every single one of them was a sleepyhead,
One finally overslept.
Thereby, they became eight.
There were eight—eight little Black children there were.
While traveling through Devon together,
One stopped midway.

Thereby, they became seven.

There were seven—seven little Black children there were.

Cutting logs without pause,

One split their belly in two.

Thereby, they became six.

There were six—six little Black children there were.

Messing with a beehive and getting stung,

One was stung by a hornet.

Thereby, they became five.

There were five—five little Black children there were.

They quarreled and filed ’em a lawsuit,

One went to court.

Thereby, they became four.

There were four—four Black children there were.

When everyone went out to the sea,

One was swallowed by a red herring.

Thereby, they became three.

There were three—three little Black children there were.

When they went to the zoo this time,

Kumame tightly hugged one.

Thereby, they became two.

There were two—two little Black children there were.

They plopped down in a blazing sunny spot,

One shriveled up and burned to death.

Thereby, they became one.

There was one—one little Black child there was.

At last, only one remained—

That child went out to get married.

Thereby, they all disappeared.

＊ Devon is a county in southwestern Britain, referring to Devonshire.

The dear person in the moon
The dear person in the moon gazed outward from its sphere,

And then, they say thus:

“Now, now, I am about to rise.
All babies must sleep now.
Christmas comes a-hoo-ray!
Right and left—Christmas!
The goose has grown fat.
Please now—Ippenii,
Old man—toss it in my hat!
If Ippenii won’t do,
Half-penny will serve you.
If half-penny you lack,
Good day then—master!”
“Baa-baa—Black Sheep!
Baa-baa—Black Sheep!”

“You’ve fine wool there, haven’t you?”

“Yes, yes—three bags full in the sack.”

“One bag for the master,”

“One bag for the mistress,”

But on those narrow paths there,

“The young master’s crying—no, no!”

Candle

“Little one,”

“The name’s Nancy Hecote,”

“In a white petticoat,”

With a red nose,
The longer you stand,
It grows shorter and shorter.
Little Tee Wee

Little Tee Wee went to sea,
boarded a shelf-less boat,
and as it rocked gently back and forth,
the little boat capsized,

And that’s the end of the story.

March, O wind

March, O wind.

April is rain.

May is the season of flowers in full bloom.

Mask-Wearer

Mr. Gregory Griggs,

Mr. Gregory Griggs,

With twenty-seven masks he had,

Swap, switch, switch, swap,

Mr. Gregory Griggs made the whole town roar with laughter.

He went east and donned a mask,

He went west and donned a mask,

Yet which mask did he like best?

In the end, he just couldn’t settle for being himself.

The Lion and the Unicorn

The Lion and the Unicorn

The two of them competed for the throne.

The lion was strong,

He rampaged throughout the town,

So they served white bread,

black bread,

and raisin cakes...

With a heave-ho, they drove him out.

Cobbler

"Cobbler, cobbler, at your home."

"Hello, hello!"

"I’d like to request shoe repairs."

“Alright!”
“Got it!”

A nail here, a nail there,

Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap.

A beautiful scarf

“Jiini, come tie this for me.”

“Jiini, come tie this for me.”

“Jiini, come tie this for me.”

“My beautiful scarf.”

“I’ll tie it from behind.”

“I’ll tie it in front.”

“I will tie it many times.”

“No more, no more—I won’t mind it.”

How many people, how many creatures, how many sacks?

When I made my pilgrimage to St. Ives,

I met a man with seven wives,
Each wife had seven sacks,
Each sack held seven cats,
Each cat bore seven kittens.
Those bound for St. Ives—
Now tell me: how many souls, beasts, and sacks?

What to Drink

If the world were but a pie,
If the sea turned wholly to ink,
If trees grew cheese and bread alike,

What would we drink then?
That old shell-backed geezer there –
Clutch your head and come right here!
Little cat, three cats

“Little cat, three cats, darling child,

“Where have you been?”

“I went to London,

“I had an audience with Her Majesty the Queen!”

“Little cat, three cats, darling child,

“So what did you do there?”

“Well，beneath the throne’s august seat，
I caught a sneaky mouse!”

Rainy Weather

The dog and the cat went to meet friends,

They just set off together from town.
The cat spoke up.

“How’s the weather looking?”

The dog spoke up.

“Indeed, ma’am, the rain is about to fall, but

“There’s no need to worry—I’ve got a bat-shaped umbrella here.”

“In that case—how about we share this umbrella together?”

Pauley, the kettle.

Pauley, put on the kettle.

Pauley, put on the kettle.

Pauley, put on the kettle.

It’s tea that everyone’s gonna drink!

Sukei, take that off.

Sukei, take that off.

Sukei, take that off.

Everyone’s gonna rush off any second now!

Pumpkin-Lover

Mr. Peeta, Mr. Peeta, Pumpkin-Lover,

Even with a wife, he couldn’t make a protective charm,
Into the pumpkin shell he crammed it,
And at last triumphantly crafted the charm.

Bow-wow, wow, wow

Bow-wow, wow, wow,

“Where are you from, dog?”

“I’m Mr. Tinker’s dog,”

Bow-wow, wow, wow.

The Greengrocer

Mr. Tommy Troot, the greengrocer,

Sold the bed,

Flop down onto the straw.

Sold that straw,

Flop down onto the grass.

And then he bought a full-length mirror for his wife.

If the nails are gone,

If the nails are gone,

The horseshoe disappears.

If the horseshoe is gone,

The horse disappears.

If the horse is gone,

The rider disappears.

If the rider is gone,

War disappears.

If there is no war,

The king’s country disappears.

It’s all because the horse’s horseshoe was lost.

Twenty-Four Tailors

Twenty-four tailors

Off to kill beetles, heave-ho!
They’ll hardly ever touch a tail!
That’s when the stag beetle grew its horns,
Kairo looks just like a tiny cow.
Run run, run or you’ll be killed right now.
Beetle, grow your horns!
Beetle, beetle, grow your horns!
Father and Mother died.
Your brothers and sisters are in the backyard
They’re begging, “Give us bread!”
If you find a needle
If you find a needle, pick it up and take it.

That day, all day long, nothing but good things.
If you find a needle and leave it be,

That day, all day long, nothing but bad things.

Wind, blow, blow

Wind, blow, blow,

Turn the millstone,

Miller grinding flour,

The baker kneading,

In the morning, steaming hot and freshly made.

The Carefree Miller

The carefree miller

The carefree miller dwells by the Dee River.
From morning till night,
he worked and sang.
He was always fooling around,
Only one thing,

With his set phrase,

Only one thing.

"Who cares? No no - it's me!"
"Who'd care about me?"
"Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"

Country bumpkin

It’s the country bumpkin’s inquiry.

“How many strawberries are there in the sea?”

Can you answer cleverly and gain permission?

“How many herring are in the forest?”

The old woman in the basket

An old woman rode alone in a basket,

Swaying, she ascended,

Higher than the moon, ninety times higher,

Where she was headed, none could inquire,

Broom in hand—look there! Up she'd go.

"Old woman, old woman, old woman,

Where are you bound? Where to?

Don't climb so high up there!"

"I'm sweeping the dome ceiling's soot!"

"Do hurry back now, I pray!"

"Aye, aye!
I'll return right away!"

The absurd Nankin-san—

Three absurd Nankin-san there were.

That is something you all know better than anyone.

They set out on a hunt, whooping and hollering.

Moreover, how improper—on the Sabbath, no less.

All the livelong day they hunted around,

They found nothing at all—not a root nor a leaf.

The one thing they found was a ship with sails!

It sped swiftly along with the tailwind.

“That’s a ship!” exclaimed the first Nankin-san.

“Nonsense, that’s a lie!” retorted the second one.

“That’s a house!” retorted the third one—

“It’s even got a broken chimney stuck to it, hasn’t it?”

All the livelong night, they hunted all around,
They found nothing at all—not a root nor a leaf.
The one thing they found was Mr. Sliding Moon,
It was blown along and slipped slickly away.
“That’s Mr. Sliding Moon!” exclaimed the first one.
“Nonsense, that’s a lie!” retorted the second one.
“That’s cheese!” retorted the third one.—
“Cut it in two and take half!” retorted the second one.—

Once again, they hunted all day long,

They found nothing at all—not a root nor a leaf.

The one thing they found was a hedgehog in the raspberry thicket.

They passed right by it from behind.

“That’s a hedgehog!” exclaimed the first one.

“Nonsense, that’s a lie!” retorted the second one.

“That’s a pincushion!” retorted the third one.—

“You’ve gone and stuck all those needles in such a haphazard mess!”

Once again, they hunted all night long,

They found nothing at all—not a root nor a leaf.

The one thing they found was a hare in the turnip field.

They abandoned it and went on their way.

“That’s a hare!” exclaimed the first one.

“Nonsense, that’s a lie!” retorted the second one.

“That’s a calf!” retorted the third one—

“That guy’s the one abandoned by a cow, ain’t he?”

Once again, they hunted all day long,

They found nothing at all—not a root nor a leaf.

What they saw was Horoki’s wise-looking owl.

They stepped right over it from behind.

“That’s an owl!” exclaimed the first one.

“Nonsense, that’s a lie!” retorted the second one.

“That’s an old man!” retorted the third one.—
——

“There, there! Look at the salt-and-pepper hair!”

Crooked Nose—

That fellow’s downright peculiar—he can’t walk straight.

Do you know why?
He headed off in the direction his nose was pointing.
No wonder, my good man—your nose is crooked!
At the foot of that hill

At the foot of that hill

There was an old woman.

If she had left,

she would still be living there.

My cow

My cow is tiny.
Wobbly, popping up, popping up now.
My cow is tiny,
The cow’s calf is tiny.
Wobbly, popping up, popping up now.
My song is only halfway done.
My cow is tiny.
Wobbly, popping up, popping up now.
My cow is tiny.
I finally drove it into the calf shed.
Wobbly, popping up, popping up now.

And there, the song was done and done!

Lullaby

Lullaby, lullaby, oh lullaby,
The little boy tends his father’s sheep.
Mother by the lullaby’s slumber tree,
Lullaby, lullaby, let’s rock you to sleep,
Rock, and dreams will shower down.
Lullaby, lullaby, oh lullaby.

The tiny child—

The teeny-tiny boy—what’s he made of? What’s he made of?

What’s he made of?

He was made from a frog, a snail, and a puppy’s tail.

There, there! The teeny-tiny boy was made.

What’s a pretty girl made of? What’s she made of?

What’s a pretty girl made of?

Sugar and spice and all things nice.

There, there! The pretty girl was made.

Lullaby

Lullaby, lullaby, oh lullaby.

Hush now child, don't make Mama cry,
If you weep away, I'll sigh and sigh.
Lullaby, lullaby, oh lullaby.

Nimble Jack,
Nimble Jack,
Swift Jack,
One candlestick,
Jack
Leapt right over.
Snail snail,
Snail snail.

Snail, snail.

A thief’s coming for your house’s wall!

They’ll come to smash it to bits!

Snail, snail.

Show your horns!

A thief’s coming to take the wheat!

A thief’s coming at four at dawn!

All in a row,

All in a row,

They drew their bows,

When they shot the pigeon,

They killed the crow.

Snail.

Snail, snail, show your horns!

Give bread and wheat—there!

Clever one.

So reckless, clever one,

When you suddenly jump into the thorny thicket,

Eyeballs popped out pop pop.

Oh dear! If the eyeballs popped out,

That very moment, with a hellish force,

It jumped into the side thicket.

Then the eyeballs sunk back in.

Chatter

The Japanese tit's chatter,

Your tongue will split!

All dogs in the town

They'll get punished with a bite!

Queen of Haat
The Queen of Haat has manju made.
Everyone makes them; it takes up a whole summer day.

The soldier of Haat stole the manju.

He took off with it all, thinking, “This is mine!”

The King of Haat declared, “Manju!”

That was quite a mess; the King had the soldier punished.

The soldier of Haat returned the manju.

Utterly defeated, he’ll never do it again.

Cock-a-Doodle-Doo Dance

Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo.

The wife lost the shoes.

The husband lost the violin bow,
They were utterly at a loss.
Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo.
Oh dear, what would the wife do?
The husband searched for the violin bow,

Until then, a barefoot grand dance?

Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo.

The wife lost the shoes.

The husband found the violin bow,

Here it comes—cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo.

Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo.

“Come now, wife, dance away!”

The husband rubbed the violin bow,

“There there, dance! Cock-a-doodle-doo.”

Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo.

The wife lost her shoes.
She was unable to sleep and in great distress,
Her hair was all disheveled.
Snail snail,

Snail, snail,
Retract your horns!
If you don’t retract your horns, they’ll sprinkle sansho pepper grains!

Grandmother and Son

One grandmother and three sons,

Jerry, James, and John.

Jerry hanged himself.
James drowned.

John disappeared somewhere.

No one could find him.

The three sons all died.
Jerry, James, and John.

Ladybird

Ladybird, ladybird,
Hurry home,
Your house is on fire.
All the children burned to death.

Anne, the daughter, all alone,
Under the pudding pot
She huddled in, squirming and burrowing.

Warm bread

Warm bread,
Warm, warm, warm bread.

One penny makes one, two pennies make two,

Warm bread.
If you have no daughter,
Give it to your son.
One penny makes one, two pennies make two,
Warm bread.

The Three Wise Men of Gotham

Now then, the Three Wise Men of Gotham,

They rode out to sea on a bowl.

If only the bowl were just a bit sturdier,

There, this song too will come to an end.

Madhouse Family

A mad husband,

A mad wife,

Living in Mad Alley,

She gave birth to triplets,

Every child, every child was mad.
The father was mad,
The mother was mad,
All the children were mad.
Riding a mad horse,
All together, everyone riding,
They dashed into the pitch-dark three-legged tray.
Little Master

"My Little Master,

Smaller than a duckling's thumb,

Into this tiny pot we tuck him,
Boom-boom! Play faster! Build it up!
Buy now his little pony too!

Then dash away in frantic flight,
Grab reins and fix his saddle tight,
'Come now! March out! Beyond town's light!'

To tie those darling socks just right,
A tiny clasp will serve delight."

To wipe a little nose,
A cute little handkerchief.

In one barrel,
In one barrel, three people entered,
Dondoko, dondoko, suddondon!
Who are they?
The butcher, the baker,
The candlestick maker.
Roll them away.
They’re a hopeless bunch.

Jack and Jill

Two little lullaby birds on the hill,

One is Jack, and the other is Jill.

Jack flew away,

Jill flew away,

Jack came back,

Jill came back.

Tom Tom Boy

Tom, Tom, Tom Bōzu,

The flute-playing son,

He stole a pig and ran away, but

The pig was eaten, and Tom was beaten,

He ran through the town, wailing and sobbing.

The dog is king,

The dog is king,

The cat mews,

The piglet spins round and round,
The mouse is mighty.
The bag flutters in the wind,
The crow caw caw,
The duck quack-quack,
The cow moo-moo.

Little Miss

In the middle of her forehead lay a glittering crimp—

A small curly lock,

Little Miss,

When she’s in a good mood,

Oh, what a good girl,

When she’s in a bad mood, she’s a terror of a child.
There—a terrifying child!

Quack Doctor

The quack doctor Mr. Foster,

He went to Gloucester,
Was caught in sudden rain,

Stranded in a puddle,
Soaked up to his navel,
And after that, he never went again.

The Neat-Freak Mistress

Through Mr. Moon’s matchmaking, she became a bride.
The neat-freak, householder, thrifty mistress she was.
Unless it was noon, she absolutely wouldn’t get up.
"If you could truly manage it," they’d say, "then by all means do!"
When she finally got up, she bustled about resolutely,
The neat-freak, householder, thrifty mistress she was.
She haphazardly kneaded wheat flour with an ash shovel.
"If you could truly manage it," they’d say, "then by all means do!"

She sloppily stuffed butter into long boots,
The neat-freak mistress—householder and thrifty keeper.
Instead of a scraper-stick came foot-squelching squelch-squelch.

If you can truly manage it, then by all means, do!

She put Cheese on the shelf in the kitchen storeroom—

The neat-freak, householder, thrifty mistress she was.

She didn’t care if she left it until it rolled away on its own.

If you can truly manage it, then by all means, do!

The Grand Wedding

Bzz, bzz, bzzz-bzzz-bzz.

The fly wed the bumblebee,

At last they went to the church and duly settled the wedding offering.

The Grand Wedding of the Fly and the Bumblebee.

Taffy

Taffy is a Welshman, Taffy is a thief.
He came to my house and stole a chunk of beef.

When I went to Taffy's house, Taffy wasn't there.
Taffy came and stole a marrow bone.
When I went to Taffy's house, Taffy wasn't there.

Taffy came and stole a rolling pin this time.

When I went to Taffy’s house, Taffy was sleeping.
There, I grabbed a fire poker and hurled it at his head.

Babaā Cow

The black-and-white mottled visage,
She’s the Chāree Wāree cow.

Won’t you open that gate? Let me pass through.

Chāree Wāree’s Babaā Cow.

Hippety-skip

Hippety-skip’s Tonkichi,

Hippety-skip’s Tonkichi,

Tonkichi ate a manju and,
he left nothin’ but the crust behind.
I’ll sell eggs,

To sell eggs, on the path I go,

Dance, dance away—with a twisted leg dance away!

Legs all twisted, claws all curved,

This guy’s amusing—he tripped someone’s heel just a bit,

There he thudded face-first, smacking his nose against the ground.

A magpie alighted.

A magpie alighted, perched on a pear tree.

A magpie alighted, perched on a pear tree.

A magpie alighted, perched on a pear tree.

Oh so weary, ah so weary, oh so weary, oh!

Once joyfully, they gave a sprightly hop.

Twice joyfully, they gave a sprightly hop.

Thrice joyfully, they gave a sprightly hop.

Oh so weary, oh so weary, oh so weary, oh!
Hey there, hey there, sprightly lass—

“Hey there, sprightly lass—
“Where might you be headin’?”
“I’m goin’ to milk the cows.”
“Hey there, sprightly lass—
“Shall I come along with ya?”
“Oh yes! Then I’d be right glad.”
“Hey there, sprightly lass—”

“What does your father do?”

“My father’s a farmer.”

“Hey there, sprightly lass—

“You’ve got some fortune tucked away now, haven’t you?”

“No, no—beauty’s my fortune.”

“Hey there, sprightly lass—”

“In that case, havin’ you as a bride might be a bit of trouble—”

“That’s none of your concern.”

To market, to market,

To market, to market, to buy raisin cakes,

Let’s go back, let’s go back—we’re late for the market.

To market, to market, to buy raisin bread,

Let’s go back, let’s go back—the market’s done.

Mathematics

Multiplication’s a sevenfold snag,
Division’s pure tyranny,
Proportion’s people’s plight,
Applied problems drive you mad.

Eyes
Blue eyes are pretty，
Gray eyes are gloomy，

Black eyes are scheming,
Hazel eyes are spooky.

May’s Honeybee

May’s honeybee,
A load of hay.

June’s honeybee,
Same value as a silver spoon.

July’s honeybee,
Doesn’t even bother one fly.

Morning haze

Morning haze and evening sunset sky
Foretell fair weather nigh.
Cloudy dusk and dawn's red glow
Drench sleeping sheep below.

Cuckoo bird
Lovely little cuckoo bird,
Singing in scattered bursts I heard -
Your crying voice that heralds clear
Truthful tidings we revere.

Because it sips small bird eggs,

Singing with a cool tone, the cuckoo bird

Cries early—“Cuckoo!”—and

Summer will soon arrive.

Bean Sprout Boy

At bean sprout’s house,

Bean sprout’s little boy

Barged into another’s fishpond

And hauled up fish with a snap.

Solomon Grundy

Solomon Grundy was,
Born on Monday,
Baptized on Tuesday,
On Wednesday he took a wife,
On Thursday he fell ill,
On Friday he gravely worsened,
On Saturday he up and died, they say,
On Sunday he was buried.
The lifetime of Solomon Grundy.
And there we have the end, my dear.

Mr. Frog
In the pond resides Mr. Frog,
In the pond resides Mr. Frog,
The twentieth-day mouse is at the flour mill.
Mr. Frog seeks a companion,

Mr. Frog seeks a companion,

He rides atop the snail’s back.

To the twentieth-day mouse’s dwelling,

To the twentieth-day mouse’s dwelling,

There he knocks on the door and announces his presence.

“Princess Twentieth-Day Mouse, I have come to see you,

“Princess Twentieth-Day Mouse, I have come to see you,
“Do I please you? Or do I not?”
“How am I to give my answer,”
“How am I to give my answer,
“especially with Uncle away from home.”

The mouse’s uncle returned,

The mouse’s uncle returned,

“Someone came during my absence!”

“A disagreeable gentleman came—”

“A disagreeable gentleman came—”

“during Uncle’s absence.”

There he wept and wept—Mr.Frog,

Wept and wept, along the stream went Mr. Frog,
Mr. Frog encountered a dazzling noble lady.
Found something good, tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
To the dazzling noble lady went Mr. Frog.

Gulped down with a snap—squeak squeak squeak.
What a pitiful tale.

And so we conclude our tale here, with humble regards.

All-Empty

There was an old woman called All-Empty somewhere.

All-Empty settled back into Mamecchoro’s little house.
Then someone slipped out there,
gaped their mouth open, sucked in, and snapped it shut.
Both the house and the old woman were All-Empty.

London Bridge

London Bridge fell.
London Bridge fell.
How will they build it now?
How will they build it now?
Try building it with silver and gold.
Try building it with silver and gold.
Silver and gold were stolen.
Silver and gold were stolen.
Try building it with iron and steel.
Try building it with iron and steel.
Even iron and steel will bend and warp.
Even iron and steel will bend and warp.
Try building it with wood and clay.
Try building it with wood and clay.
Wood and clay will be washed away.

Wood and clay were washed away.

Then build it with stone—that’d hold strong!

For thousands upon thousands of years, it’d hold strong.

The seas of the entire world—
If all the seas of the entire world were one sea,

How vast the sea would be!
If every last tree in the world were one tree,

How enormous the tree would be!

If all the world’s axes were one axe,
How enormous the axe would be!
If all people in the world were one person,
How enormous the person would be!
That enormous person took an enormous axe,
Cut down an enormous tree,
If they were to fell it into that enormous sea with a thunderous crash,
That would make how very, very loud a sound!

The sky was damp and muggy,
The sky was damp and muggy,
Rain impending—
If you meet a little old man,

Dressed entirely in leather,

With a tall cylindrical hat perched on his chin,

“Brr, it’s cold! Brr, it’s cold! Good day to you!”

The sky was damp and muggy,
With farewell,

A feeble comrade grasped hands,
dressed entirely in leather,
with a tall cylindrical hat perched on his chin,
“Farewell, farewell—till we meet again.”

King Aasaa

In the reign of King Aasaa,

King Aasaa was a noble soul,

Three kin of crushed wheat moistened,

He prepared a bag-shaped pudding.

Finally, the king’s own handmade—

In it lay a mountain of dried raisins,

Thicker than two thumbs.

He plopped in two chunks of fatty meat.

The king and queen tasted it first,

Next came the ministers’ turn,

And then the leftovers from that night—

The next morning saw the queen frying tofu.

Gulp gulp, munch munch.

"What on earth is this, you old woman?

Drinking and eating—that’s all,

She can do nothing else,

Is eating and drinking your only trade?

Munch munch, gulp gulp, whining granny,

Grumbling grumbling, she still won’t stop."

Indian rats

Indian rats love playing tag.

Tra-la-la-la-la.

If you want to catch them, first you must chase,

Then they let go of their hands,

Which of them is faster?

Tra-la-la-la-la.

Jack Spratt and

Jack Spratt and his wife.

The old man eats yet wastes away,

The old woman stays gluttonous though she's fat.

Look right between the two of them,

The plate lies licked smooth.

Contrary

The Contrary One,

The Contrary One went on a journey,
At the Contrary One’s stone steps,
The Contrary One picked up a sixpence,
The Contrary One bought a cat,
The Contrary One had a mouse caught,
At the Contrary One’s bean-sprout house,
The Contrary One settled down, contrary as ever.
(Note) Over there, they refer to a contrary person as "The Contrary One."
My father
My father up and died.
I don’t know what to say about this.
I sold six horses.

Well,

With a plow, I dig and I chase.

I sold six horses,

I bought one cow here,

My circumstances are in fine shape and good spirits.

Well,

What’s the best thing to do—but I still don’t know.

So there I sold the cow,

I bought one calf here,

My circumstances are in fine shape and good spirits.

Well,

I lost half a portion of premium meat again.

So there I sold the calf,

I bought one female cat here,

That sweet little cat was a dear one too.
Well,

In the chimney's corner, it perched neatly.

Once again, I sold off that sweet little cat,

I bought a twenty-day-old mouse here,

I grabbed the tail and threw it into the fire.
Well,

My house burst into flames.

The Cat and the King

Now then, this time, the cat had an audience with the King,
If it ended safely, that meant happiness.
Honk, honk, goose.
Honk, honk, goose,
Wandering about—where to go?

Upstairs and downstairs,
In the mistress’s room,
[The goose] encountered an old man,

What did that old man do,
Faithless, disagreeable fellow,
Then the goose tripped his left leg,
Tumbled head over heels and rolled down the stairs.
In the fire—
In the fire naphtha,
In the oak bone-dry.
In the mud an eel,
In the clay bone-dry.
A goat eats ivy.

The mare ate wheat.

A pair of fire tongs,

Long-legged and hunchbacked,

Small-headed and eyeless,

And what’s more?

The moon shone bright.

“Little miss, young sir—come out and play!

The moon shines clear as day.

Whistle your way here, call out and appear!

Come in highest cheer—
Or we’ll leave you right here!

Leave supper behind, leave your slate unwrit,

Come down to town where playmates wait lit.

Shout your bold cry—leap, jump, draw nigh,

Let’s spin round and round and dance in the moonlight.

Climb the stairway, leap down from the stone wall,

Tumble down, and coins will grant all you need.

You’ll buy milk, you’ll buy honey,

In half an hour’s time you’ll buy manju.

Toy horse

Clip-clop, clip-clop,

On the horse,

Shall we go to Charing Cross?
A pretty lady,
Riding a white horse,
Rings on hands,
Bells on shoes,
Jingle-jingle she goes,
Shall we go take a look?
Jingle-jingle, ring-a-ling.
Wah-wah
Wah-wah, Baby,

Stick your finger into the eyeball.
And then if you go to Mother,
That’s not what you call a boy.

If the north wind blows,
If the north wind blows,
Snow falls.
What will the poor small bird do?
Poor little thing, isn’t it?
In the storehouse’s harvested barley,
Wriggle and snuggle—how warm it is,
Tucking its head beneath its feathers.
Poor little thing, isn’t it?

Blind Man’s Bluff

Blind man’s bluff, blind man’s bluff,

Do you know how it feels to be blind?

Spin round three times,

Try catching me—go on and try,

Don’t tumble, don’t stumble,

Grab whoever you can find!

"I’m over here! Think you’ve caught me?"

How laughable, how laughable—Blind Man’s Bluff.

King of the Mountain

“Look here—one leap,”
“I’m right here!”
“No one’s coming after me!”
“Just me!”
Went up
Went up, up, up.
Went down, down, down.
Went forward, went back.
They spun round and round.
All went to the forest.

(Sing while poking the tips of five fingers.)

One. This pig says.
All go to the forest.

Two. This pig says.
Why go to the forest?

Three. This pig says.
To meet Mother.

Four. This pig says.
And and what do we do?

Five. This pig says.
Nibble and kiss, kiss, kiss.

This little pig.

(Same as above)

One. This pig, Tiny, went to the market.

Two. This pig, Tiny, stayed home to mind the house.

Three. This pig, Tiny, roasted beef.

Four. This pig, Tiny, had nothing at all.

Five. This pig, Tiny, wee wee wee.

Together back home we go, heave-ho!

Put on your shoes.

(Sing while poking five toes.)

One: Put on your shoes; shoe the colt.

Two: Shoe the mare.

Three: Load the sack onto your back.

Four: Load it up, take a look!

Five: Once loaded comes wheat!

If you don’t load it, smash your brains out!

To the long-tailed pig,

To the long-tailed pig,

To the short-tailed pig,

To the tailless pig,

To the female pig, to the honored pig,

To the curly-tailed pig.

Up we go, up we go

A: “Up we go, up we go—two ladder steps.”
B: “Exactly as I did.”
A: “Up we go, up we go—four ladder steps.”
B: “Exactly as I did.”

“We entered the room,” said A.
“Exactly as I did,” replied B.
“We looked out the window,” continued A.
“Exactly as I did,” echoed B.
“There we spotted a monkey,” announced A.
“Exactly as I did,” chimed B.
One, Two, Three,
Four, Five.
One, Two, Three, Four, Five—
Someone caught a fish flapping about.
Why ever did they let it get away?

Bit a finger, bit a hand.

Which finger was bitten?

This right little finger.

Face Game

My lord, take your seat.
(Forehead)

Two honorable retainers.
(Both eyes)

Rooster.
(Right cheek)

Hen.
(Left cheek)

Enter quickly.
(Mouth)

Chin-choppa, chin-choppa.

Chin-choppa, chin.
(Stroke the chin)

This bell
This bell was rung.
(Pinch a lock of hair and pull)
This door was knocked.
(Tap the forehead)
This lock was undone.

(Pinch the nose)

Come in, come in.

(Open the mouth and stick a finger inside)

Legs

Two legs sat down on top of three legs.
One leg was sucked on.
Four legs came along,
Snatched one leg and fled.
Two legs jumped up,
Grabbed three legs,
And threw them at four legs.
At that point, they exchanged one leg.

(Note) One leg: cow bone; two legs: human; three legs: stool; four legs: dog.

First Bed
To the child who went to bed first, a golden purse,
To the child who went to bed second, a golden pheasant,
To the child who went to bed third, a golden little bird.
The end.

A decrepit crow
It landed on the ground.

And so the song came to its tidy end.

At the end of the volume,

Mother Goose’s nursery rhymes are folk rhymes of the people.
They are unlikely to have been crafted by pure artists.
Yet we cannot dismiss them as wholly vulgar or crude for that reason.
Japan’s own nursery rhymes—those we children always clapped along to and sang—were likewise truly the people’s possession.
They were not creations of any renowned poet.
They were children’s voices that welled up naturally as a nation’s chorus.
Among them existed plain vulgarities and dubious adult indecencies too.
But within those verses lay children’s authentic voices.
They shone with singular brilliance.
This we must never forget.
True folk songs spring unbidden from mountain grasses sighing in wind-swept fields.
First sung by nameless voices, passed through generations and reshaped—only the truly refined endured through time.
We must honor this enduring tradition of ethnic spirit.
Thus Japan’s native nursery rhythms form both source and mainstream of our lyrical heritage.
Mother Goose too may rightly be called Britain’s wellspring of rhyme.
To disregard such ethnic traditions while deeming only polished poets’ works truly noble songs—this would be error.
I detest such pretentious poetical airs.

To tell the truth, folk songs and nursery rhymes—even if they were created by certain poets—once they become the property of the general populace, the names of their authors are forgotten, and only the songs themselves become the possession of all the people.
The more they endure, the more those songs can be said to have succeeded as folk songs.
In other words, the more the authors’ names are forgotten, the more these songs shine as true folk songs.

Among the nursery rhymes passed down today as “Mother Goose’s,” one cannot assume Mother Goose’s works constitute all of them.
There must be various anonymous works mixed in—the children’s own voices among them.
Even Mother Goose’s name has been forgotten in Britain and other Anglophone nations, where children now believe these are simply “Mother Goose rhymes.”
They are not so much read as sung far and wide.
In other words, they have become nursery rhymes belonging to the British people themselves.
We must never belittle these songs born from the people.

In particular, their vivacity, their wit, their piercing satire, guilelessness, humor, and fertile imagination—this rare array of facets brims with a remarkable and singular radiance.
Of course, viewed through a purely artistic lens, they inevitably contain an uneven mix of gems and dross.
Yet this remains unavoidable when presenting folk songs.
Thus while some pieces hold up admirably as artworks, others show markedly diminished refinement.
Even so, they harbor an edge too precious to discard.
So I gathered them.
This was no haphazard, uncritical translation.
Without this approach, Mother Goose’s essence would stay obscured.
Children need no such anxious coddling.
I trust in children’s innate wisdom.

As I translated these Nursery Rhymes, I was astonished to find that children’s emotional and sensory lives were nearly the same, whether in the East or the West. Among these, wasn’t something like “Ladybug” entirely identical to Japan’s “Karasu Karasu” nursery rhyme? As for some of the “snail” rhymes, weren’t they nearly identical as well?

However, while they excelled in urban lightness and unrestrained wit, one might think they lacked the heartfelt human warmth found in Japanese lullabies.
And so I deeply reflected on the preciousness of Japan's traditional folk songs and such lullabies.
However I leave the detailed comparison there to readers.

In this collection my translations primarily consisted of Mother Goose's nursery rhymes mixed with play songs lullabies and other pieces popular among British and American children.

When translating, I referred to four or five nursery rhyme collections, sheet music, and other materials. Even the same nursery rhyme has been altered when sung or had parts omitted. In extreme cases, even crucial parts have been completely changed to convey the opposite meaning. I selected those that I believed were the best. As for the preface poem in this collection, every book I consulted had passages missing here and there. So I synthesized and compiled it from all of them accordingly. However, not a single stanza or line was added according to my own whims. I compiled them as they were to form a complete whole.

Translation is inherently difficult.
The translation of verse is an arduous task.
Though I was neither a linguist nor academically accomplished—and thus quite hesitant to devote myself to this difficult task—I had fortunately been writing poetry and had somehow managed to impart the flavor of Japanese as folk songs.
And so, regarding poetry and folk songs alike, I believed I possessed a fairly considerable understanding of their true spirit and rhythmic movements.
And so, relying on that strength alone, I began my work regardless.

The first difficulty was that since these nursery rhymes were meant to be sung with hand-clapping and foot-stomping, the translations too had to adopt an intensely folk-like rhythmic flow and be entirely singable.
Thus, regarding how the original songs’ rhythms progressed, it was necessary to preserve their exact progression as they were.
To transpose these into another country’s language was rather unreasonable.
And making them singable was all the more so.

Excepting a small number of exceptions, I translated nearly line by line as much as possible in sequence.
It could generally be called a line-by-line translation.
Because of this, I endured hardships surpassing those of original creation.

However, when I first began this work around the year before last, I was still inexperienced and could not fully grasp it; thus, to make them singable, I had to make some adjustments and could not translate as I had hoped.
Gradually, I became able to manage it with a strictly line-by-line approach.
And within these, there were a few exceptions involving adjustments.

Furthermore, I did not translate those that relied on phonological puns like *Rain, rain go to Spain*, as it was fundamentally impossible to render them.
This is because rendering it as “Ame, ame, Supein e” (“Rain, rain go to Spain”) would strip away the original rhyme’s cleverness.
In Japan, one should employ that rhyme as “Rain, rain, go to Awa.”

Something like *Baa, Baa, Black Sheep* proved troublesome. The original relies entirely on B sounds, but in Japan—a land with black sheep—the B alliteration doesn’t work. Attempting “Kū kū kurohitsuji” (“Baa, baa, black sheep”) fails to capture a sheep’s actual cry, while “Nake nake kurohitsuji” (“Cry, cry black sheep”) reduces it to mere meaning. A translation confined to meaning alone cannot be genuine. When unavoidable, one must let such phrases remain in their original language.

Take phrases like “Yabu isha no Fosutā-san ga Gurōsutā e itte” (“Mr. Foster the quack doctor went to Gloucester”)—these too hinge on wordplay. Since they use proper nouns that function intact, I preserved them as-is. It’s akin to a pun like “Oishasama no Sai-an-san ga Saitama e itte” (“Dr. Sai-an went to Saitama”). When both elements are proper nouns like this, they work naturally—but cases mixing common and proper nouns (“rain” and “Spain”) become wholly problematic.

For instance, when translating “Toppyokurin no Chāree ga” failed to convey the original’s charm, I employed wordplay like “Toppyokurin no Tonkichi ga.” Here, “Tonkichi” functions less as a personal name than “Toppyokurin” itself—a term already conventionalized enough to avoid confusion. As for “Chāree,” since it served purely as a phonological pun in the original rhyme with no deeper significance, I prioritized preserving the wordplay’s essential cleverness over literal fidelity. Still, such examples remain rare.

Furthermore,

The man in the moon

Rolled and fell,

On the road going north,

Went south

With thickened pea soup

Burned his tongue with it.

In the original song, it said, "asking the way to Norwich and going south," but since Norwich lies north of London, the core intent—contrasting north with south—became clear to Japanese children unfamiliar with Norwich, and this version proved far more concise and effective.
In such cases, I removed the place names.
However, such examples were rarely found elsewhere.
Generally, I preserved proper nouns that deserved retention.

Furthermore, when translating into Japanese, due to differences in grammar, I avoided meaningless literal translations—such as changing verbs from past to present tense—if there existed a Japanese expression that precisely captured the essential meaning instead. Not only do they betray the true spirit, but they also fail to function as natural Japanese.

Furthermore, there were instances where translating it honestly as “skillfully managed to reply” failed to convey its true essence, so I rendered it as “skillfully managed to reply-yo.”

I also transformed “Twenty-four tailors went to kill beetles” into “Twenty-four tailors heave-ho to kill beetles.” Even if the meaning remains unchanged, “heave-ho” makes them line up like mechanical dolls, their feet moving briskly in unison. Another slightly troublesome aspect of being presumptuous is that there were instances where I made adjustments to add a touch of refinement.

Now, while these are exceptions, I did so with full awareness; thus, I do not wish to be arbitrarily dismissed as mistranslation by linguists ignorant of poetics.

However, whether due to a lack of scholarly ability or simple carelessness, I may have made some egregious errors.
If there are any such points, I humbly request your instruction.

I strove to fully preserve the essence of their content and rhythm within the framework of Japanese folk song language as much as possible.
If I succeeded in preserving them, I am grateful.
It was for this reason that I poured into this endeavor nearly the same sincerity and enthusiasm as one would into original creation.
In a sense, it might be said to be half my own creation.

End.