Masterpieces that sing about play. Recommended popular songs.

Ochara-ka-hoi

Sesse-sse, yoiyoi-yooi.
Ocharaka ocharaka
Okacharaka hoi
I got it at Ocharaka.
Okacharaka hoi
Ochyaraka, I lost.
Okacharaka hoi
Ochyaraka, on aiko
Okacharaka hoi

Bamboo shoots are sprouting.

Bamboo shoots sprouted; I must speak; it opened.
I'll snip it off with scissors.
Heave-ho, heave-ho, heave-ho!

Ten thousand feet in the Alps

Ten thousand feet in the Alps, up on the little peak, let’s dance the alpine dance—come on, let’s dance!
<2> The dream I had yesterday — it was a big-and-small kind of dream. A flea, wearing a backpack, was climbing Mount Fuji.
When I ask the child fishing for char which mountain path to take, he points with his rod beyond the clouds.
If you take a nap in a flower field, butterflies will fly over and give you a kiss.
Snowfields gleam—where are the ptarmigans? Edelweiss blooms here and there.
Pitch a tent ten thousand shaku high, and your hand can reach the stars’ lamps.
At the campsite, a cuckoo calls, and morning comes out of the mist.
I long to dye that girl’s sleeves with a flower pattern from a field of blossoms.
Even butterflies are in pairs—so why am I the only one all alone?
Everything progressed smoothly, and just as we were about to kiss, I woke up.
The mountain echo comes back, but my love letter doesn’t return.
At the campfire, feeling sentimental, I dream of that cute girl.
If I take a nap in the flower field, I dream of that cute girl.
In my dreams I see you; my sleep is shallow. If I truly love you, I can’t sleep.
Higher than the clouds, on this peak—I'm the only king of the mountain.
When I loop the rope over Chin-ne’s head and have him puff on the pipe, my heart surges.
17. On the Terrace of Swords, when the hammer swings, the haken sings into the blue sky.
Even if the mountains are desolate, my heart is always a heaven where dreams exist.
Peaks like Yarigatake and Hotaka are hidden from view; it’s where they can’t be seen that they are truly Yarigatake and Hotaka.
Why is the rocky surface so cold to one who risks their life for love?
Carrying our rope, we head for the mountains of Hotaka; tomorrow will be a test of a man's nerve.
In the gullies of Hotaka, handling the rope, when I sing a yodel, clouds well up.
Climb Nishi-Hotaka and Oku-Hotaka beckons—the hand that invites is the Jandarm.
24: The spear is the son-in-law, Hotaka is the bride, and in between, Rinki is Mount Yake.
Posting Mt. Yari and Mt. Hotaka as sentries, I pick flowers in the alpine meadow.
Setting the spear and Hotaka as sentinels, I shoot a pheasant aiming toward Kashima.
If with the spearhead I shoot the little pheasant, I’ll be parted in tears from Takase and Azusa.
Lingering reluctance—Taisho Pond; once more I look back at Mt. Hotaka.
Let’s meet in good health again next year, around the time when the cherry blossoms bloom in the mountains.