The song “Mushi no koe,” published as a Ministry of Education song in 1910, celebrates the rich and varied sounds of insects chirping in the autumn grass. This song embodies the unique Japanese aesthetic sense of “furyu,” which appreciates the elegance of nature. While in the West, insect sounds are often considered noise, in Japan, they have long been cherished as a refined way to enjoy the arrival of autumn.

For Japanese people, the sounds of insects are not just noises but essential elements that signify the change of seasons. This sensitivity is frequently depicted in ukiyo-e (Japanese woodblock prints), which often feature insects and their habitats. In Kanazawa’s Higashi Chaya District, traditional teahouse buildings with beautiful lattice windows called “kimusuko” remain. The term “kimusuko” itself, meaning “wooden insect cage,” symbolizes elegance and reflects the Japanese aesthetic that values the sounds of insects. Such architectural designs also illustrate the Japanese appreciation for the beauty of insect sounds.

歌川広重 – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 41.469_IMLS_PS3.jpg, パブリック・ドメイン, リンクによる

A machiya with a “kimusukago” design, characterized by fine, regular slits that look like insect cages. At Higashi chayamachi , Kanazawa.

The song’s lyrics use onomatopoeia to vividly express the sounds of insects, creating a unique rhythm and resonance that deeply touches the listener’s heart. For instance, the phrases “chinchiro chinchiro chinchororin. Rinrin rinrin riinrin.” and “kirikiri kirikiri kirigirisu. Gachaya gachaya gachaya gachaya kutsuwamushi. Chon chon chon chon suitchon.” are used. However, there is an anecdote about how the scientific observation that “kirigirisu (katydid) does not chirp ‘kiri kiri,’ but it is the cricket that does” led to a correction in the lyrics, demonstrating an intriguing conflict between scientific accuracy and literary expression.

However, the advancement of modernization and urbanization has led to a decline in the appreciation of such elegant sensibilities. The increase in residential areas and environmental changes have reduced the habitats of insects, making it harder to hear their sounds. Despite this, there has been a recent resurgence of interest in this refined pastime, driven by a return to traditional Japanese values.

松岡明芳 – 投稿者自身による著作物, CC 表示-継承 3.0, リンクによる

“Mushi no koe” is a song that reminds us of the Japanese spirit of elegance. Through this song, we hope to help people rediscover the beauty of nature and the changing seasons, and revive the fading appreciation for these subtle natural sounds.

Obon is a custom to express gratitude to deceased ancestors, or in other words, to the bloodline that has connected one’s life to one’s own.

Originally, it was held around July 15 on the lunar calendar, but when the new calendar was introduced in the Meiji era (1868-1912), July 15 fell during the busy farming season, so it was moved one month later to around August 15 in many areas. Many companies and stores set their “Obon vacations” to coincide with this date, and since it also coincided with the end of the war, it seems to have taken root as a time to mourn those who had passed away. Therefore, the custom has taken root as a time to return to one’s parents’ home, similar to the winter New Year’s holiday. In recent years, however, many people consider it a time to enjoy leisure activities rather than to return home.

The custom of visiting graves and making offerings at home to welcome ancestors during Obon remains even in the 21st century. In such cases, cucumbers are sometimes used as horses and eggplants as cows, and decorations are sometimes made with the idea of having ancestors come early with the cucumber horses and return home slowly with the eggplant cows.

This “Itsuki no komoriuta” is not a lullaby to soothe a baby, but a “Moriko Uta,” a song about one’s circumstances, having been sent away from home because of poor birth and given the job of babysitting in a wealthy family. In Japan, 75% of the land is covered by forests, and the amount of land available for cultivation is much smaller than one might imagine. Therefore, men who could do the heavy lifting from the small harvest were given priority, and girls and elderly people were often sent to serve as “Kuchiberashi” or killed.

This song was sung in Itsukimura, Kuma-gun, Kumamoto Prefecture, and became known throughout Japan after World War II when it was recorded. However, it is not widely known that there is a continuation of the lyrics listed here.

Odon ga ucchinda chuute
dare ga naite kuryoka
ura no Matsuyama, semi ga naku

Even if I die,
Who will cry for me?
Perhaps only the cicadas on the pine-covered hill behind the house.

Semi ja gojansen
imouto de gozarū
imouto nakunayo ki ni kakaru

It’s not the cicadas,
It’s my younger sister.
Don’t cry, sister, it worries me.

Odon ga ucchindara
michibata cha ikero
tooru hito gochi hana agyuu

When I die,
Bury me by the roadside,
So I can give flowers to passersby.

Hana wa nan no hana
tsun tsun tsubaki
mizu wa ten kara moraimizu

What kind of flowers would they be?
The sharp, pointed camellia.
And the water will come from heaven.

There is a saying in Japan, “Autumn days are like the falling of a tsurube”. The autumn sun sets and sets as early as the falling of a well bucket. It is a metaphor for the early dusk of autumn.

tsurube ido

Children are chasing dragonflies in the clear blue autumn sky and shining sunlight, losing track of time. Then, in no time at all, it is sunset time. Such was the scene that poet and physician NUKAGA Seishi saw on his way home from a house call four years after World War II. The passage of time, which had finally come and gone in a leisurely and tranquil way, is expressed by comparing it to the sun reflected in the large eyes of a dragonfly.

Otento sama in the story is an ancient Japanese term for the sun, another meaning of which is “god,” who watches over humans to prevent them from doing bad things. A typical example is the phrase “Otento sama ni kaomuke ga dekinai,” which is used when one has done something bad or embarrassing.

It has been selected as one of “100 Best Japanese Songs”.

Woven like a Poem of Small Scenes

The lively summer breeze begins to carry just a faint scent of autumn. In the Kokin Wakashū, compiled in 905 AD, we find the poem:
Aki kinu to / me ni wa sayaka ni / mienedomo / kaze no oto nizo / odorokarenuru —
“Though the coming of autumn is not yet clear to the eye, one is startled by the sound of the wind.”
This sensitivity to the subtle change of seasons is something deeply Japanese.

The lyrics of Chiisai Aki Mitsuketa (“I Found a Little Autumn”) are written like an epic poem, stacking symbolic fragments of scenery one upon another. The turning of red leaves, the rustle of falling foliage, the voices of children at play—each is cut out like a small vignette, and together they weave a poetic, beautiful world. Listeners can feel the arrival of autumn not in a grand display, but as something that quietly seeps into the heart.

The days when milk meant powdered skim milk. It was dissolved in hot water.

The Childhood Memories of Lyricist SATOU Hachirou

The lyricist, SATOU Hachirou, suffered severe burns as a child and spent a long period hospitalized. In a north-facing hospital room, dim light filtered through frosted glass. From his bed, he could hear the voices of children playing tag outside. A single maple leaf clinging to an old weather vane in the autumn wind—this image etched itself deeply into his heart, reminiscent of O. Henry’s “The Last Leaf.”

O. Henry House in Austin, Texas

Composer Nakata Yoshinao and the Melancholy of Autumn

The words were set to music by composer Nakata Yoshinao. He transformed the loneliness of autumn’s arrival into a transparent, delicate melody. The song’s quiet images, when paired with this tender yet wistful tune, became unforgettable for the Japanese heart. Passed down through generations, it now conveys not only autumn’s solitude but also its gentleness.

A Miracle Born from a Single Radio Program

This song was originally written for a one-time radio program. However, record director OSADA Gyouji was so moved by its beauty that he spent seven years overcoming contractual problems before finally recording it. Without his persistence, this masterpiece might have been lost in the flow of time. The story itself illustrates the importance of preserving art for future generations.

A Monument Standing in Inokashira Park

In Inokashira Park in Kichijoji, a popular town among young people in Tokyo, stands a monument to this famous song. Though the park is lively, in autumn the swaying trees and quiet air bring forth the scenes of “finding a little autumn.” Visitors who stand before the monument may find themselves softly humming the tune.

井の頭池のほとりを歩いて「ちいさい秋」を見つけよう♪ | 吉祥寺.me

「ちいさい秋みつけた」のメロディーは井の頭公園の散歩で生まれた！

kichijoji.me

100 Best Japanese Songs.

A Song that Continues to Signal Evening

While many old dōyō (children’s songs) and shōka (school songs) have disappeared from music textbooks and are gradually being forgotten, Yuuyake Koyake remains widely beloved. One reason is that many municipalities use it as a time signal melody to remind children playing outside that it is time to go home. In residential neighborhoods, when this melody flows from the speakers at dusk, people instinctively feel, “It’s time to return home.” This custom has been naturally handed down across generations, to both children and parents.

The Lyricist NAKAMURA Ukou and the Sunset Scene

The lyricist, Nakamura Ukou, originally aspired to be a children’s story writer. However, the principal of the elementary school where he worked opposed this, believing it would interfere with his duties as an educator, and thus he turned to songwriting.
During his commute from his home in Ongata Village to Hachiōji Station—a journey of about 16 kilometers on foot—Ukō would often be moved by the evening sky. It is said that the sunset he saw on his way home inspired the lyrics, blending with memories of his childhood and the scenery of his native village. Along the way stood many temples, and the sound of their bells must have echoed with the twilight.

The Song’s Struggle to Reach the Public

It took four years for this piece to finally reach composer KUSAKAWA Shin after Ukou wrote the lyrics in 1919. The reasons for this delay remain unclear. The song was eventually published in 1923, but the Great Kantou Earthquake that struck the same year destroyed nearly all printed copies. Fortunately, thirteen copies that had been distributed to those involved survived, and the song was republished in 1929, barely managing to pass down to the present day.

The Nostalgic Sound of the Yonanuki Scale

Another reason Yuuyake Koyake has endured for so long lies in its distinctive musical scale. The song uses Japan’s traditional yonanuki scale (a pentatonic scale omitting the 4th and 7th notes—F and B in C major). This scale creates a nostalgic, bittersweet sound that resonates deeply with listeners. Its tones, perfectly matched with the twilight scenery, have made the melody one that transcends generations.

The word “yonanuki” means the old Japanese way of reading numbers: Hi, Fu, Mi, Yo, Itsutsu, Mutsu, Nanatsu… without the 4 and 7 sounds.

A Song Etched in People’s Evening Memories

Thus, “Yuuyake Koyake” has become more than just a school song—it is a “song of dusk” that has woven itself into the fabric of Japanese daily life. Even today, when the melody plays in residential neighborhoods as a time signal, many people are reminded of their childhood walk home, or the evenings they spent playing with friends under the glowing sky. The song continues to live on in everyday life, making it one of the most widely cherished douyo in Japan.

It was also selected as one of the “100 Best Japanese Songs.

Moon-viewing is incomplete without offering rice dumplings. / By katorisi – Own work, CC BY 3.0, Link

The Custom of Admiring the Harvest Moon

In Japan, the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar (around late September today) is called Jyuugoya or Chuushuu no Meigetsu, and it is celebrated as the night when the moon is at its most beautiful of the year. On this evening, people place offerings of pampas grass, rice dumplings, and seasonal harvests, and enjoy gazing at the moon in the crisp autumn air. The sight of families and friends looking up at the bright moon, sometimes with a cup of sake in hand, conveys a uniquely Japanese autumn atmosphere.

Haiku and the Humor of the Full Moon

KOBAYASHI Issa, one of the representative haiku poets of the Edo period, composed the following verse:

Meigetsu wo totte kurero to naku ko kana
名月を取ってくれろと泣く子かな
(A child carried on his back points to the full moon and cries, “Please get it for me.”)

Yoshi Canopus – 自ら撮影, CC 表示-継承 3.0, リンクによる

This scene, humorous in tone yet full of seasonal elegance, is a well-known haiku even today. It reminds us of the cultural richness of the Meigetsu (harvest moon).

The Poetic Eye of NOGUCHI Ujyou

The lyrics of Jyuugoya Otsukisan were written by NOGUCHI Ujyou, a renowned poet of children’s songs. He is also the author of lyrics for masterpieces such as “Nanatsu no Ko” and “Akai Kutsu”. NOGUCHI’s strength lay in his ability to depict the world through the innocent eyes of children, while subtly weaving in the realities of the society of his time. In this song, too, beneath the simple words of a child addressing the moon lies a heartfelt longing for the mother he misses.

Hidden Social Realities of the Taishou Period

At first glance, the lyrics of Jyuugoya Otsukisan may sound like an innocent child’s monologue to the moon. Yet, in reality, they reflect the social struggles of the Taishou era. After experiencing an economic boom during World War I, Japan plunged into a postwar recession. Many factory workers in the cities lost their jobs and were forced to return to the countryside, placing heavy economic burdens on farming households.

Family Separation and the Cry of a Child’s Heart

Because of this hardship, many rural households had to let go of their housekeepers (baaya), and poverty forced them to send their younger daughters away for work. In this context, the child singing longs for his absent mother, perhaps never to see her again, entrusting his sorrow to the moon. Simple though the lyrics may be, they are imbued with the deep sadness of family separation in that era.

The Power of MOTOORI Nagayo’s Melody

The melody was composed by MOTOORI Nagayo. His music, at once beautiful and tinged with melancholy, brought out the sorrow of the child’s heart and the shadow of society hidden behind the lyrics. The harmony of the moon’s beauty with this sadness made the song unforgettable, leaving a deep impression on Japanese hearts.

The children’s song “Yuuhi” (The Sunset) was written in 1921 by KUZUHARA Shigeru (from Hiroshima Prefcture), with music composed by MUROZAKI Kingetsu(from Toyama Prefcture). It continues to be cherished for its depiction of nature’s beauty, with the phrase “Ging-Ging-Gira-Gira” standing out as a symbol of the song. This onomatopoeia vividly captures the intense light of the setting sun, conveying the power of the moment through the sound of the words. The sharpness of “Ging-Ging” mirrors the brilliance of the light, and the rhythm gives a sense of presence, as if one is witnessing the sunset firsthand.

Interestingly, this phrase was originally “Kin-Kin-Kira-Kira” (bright and shining like the morning sun). However, Kusakawa’s second-grade daughter suggested, “The morning sun may be ‘Kin-Kin-Kira-Kira,’ but shouldn’t the sunset be ‘Ging-Ging-Gira-Gira’ instead?” This suggestion led to the change in the lyrics, better capturing the strength and distinctiveness of the setting sun. This anecdote highlights how a child’s fresh perspective can influence even a refined work and underscores the importance of such genuine sensibilities in children’s songs.

The repeated phrase “makka-kakka” (deep red) further enhances the song’s simplicity and effectiveness. Its rhythmic repetition helps children easily memorize the song, while simultaneously conveying the image of the sky turning completely red. The rhythm and sound of these words create a sense of unity with the expanding colors of the sunset, making it easy for children to feel connected to the changing beauty of nature.

By A.Davey from Portland, Oregon, EE UU – Man with a Crowd, CC BY 2.0,

In 1921, despite the rapid urbanization, watching the sunset was still a part of everyday life for many children. The sight of the sky turning red at the end of the day was a shared experience, whether in the city or countryside. “Yuuhi” captures this universal moment, transforming a simple daily occurrence into a song that helps children feel the beauty of nature and the emotional resonance of a day’s end.

By A.Davey from Portland, Oregon, EE UU – A Group of Girls, CC BY 2.0,

Expressions like “Ging-Ging-Gira-Gira” and “makka-kakka” go beyond mere description, appealing directly to a child’s senses. KUSAKAWA Shigeru skillfully used such childlike expressions to convey the wonder of nature through song. In addition, the melody is highly rhythmic, evoking the image of children’s light, playful steps. The rhythm naturally invites movement, allowing children to physically experience the joy of nature as they sing. “Yuuhi” was not just a song to enjoy but also a way for children to experience the grandeur and fleeting beauty of nature.

The Taisho period, when this song was created, reminds me of Kimetsu no Yaiba (Damon Slayer). This picture shows AI’s idea of “Kimetsu no Yaiba.

100 Best Japanese Songs