“Makka na Aki” (which translates to “Bright Red Autumn”) is a beloved Japanese children’s song that reflects the emotions of children who want to continue playing outside, even as the autumn days grow shorter and the evening approaches earlier. The song captures a moment of childhood innocence and joy, where the change of seasons from summer to autumn brings new experiences and colors, yet also signals the end of long, sun-filled days.

When this song was first introduced in the 1960s, Japan was undergoing a significant period of transformation. The nation was rapidly modernizing, and the rural, natural landscapes known as satoyama (a term used for traditional rural areas where people live in harmony with nature) were starting to decline. This shift was partly driven by the economic growth that followed Japan’s post-war recovery, and the successful hosting of the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, the first ever held in Asia. These events symbolized a turning point for Japan, moving toward urbanization and industrialization, and consequently, the natural environment that children once played in was gradually disappearing.

Despite this trend, the song’s lyrics celebrate the beauty of a fully developed autumn landscape, rich in vibrant colors. The imagery of bright red leaves and crisp autumn air reminds listeners of the nature that still surrounded them in those times, offering children spaces to run and explore. The song can be seen as a tribute to the fleeting moments of nature that were still accessible in a rapidly changing world.

The song was written by lyricist SATSUMA Tadashi and composer KOBAYASHI Hideo, both born in 1931 in Tokyo. When “Makka na Aki” was first broadcast in 1965, both were 34 years old. Their childhood had been marked by the hardships of World War II and the destruction that came with it. Tokyo, the city where they grew up, had been devastated by air raids, and in the years following the war, it underwent a process of reconstruction and modernization. Given this context, it is possible that both creators felt a deep sense of nostalgia for the pre-war natural landscapes of their youth. They may have longed for a time when children could run freely in the countryside, before the pressures of modernization began to alter the city and its surroundings.

Water tank truck in Tokyo under the serious water crisis in 1964

This sense of nostalgia, combined with a recognition of the inevitable changes Japan was undergoing, may have influenced the creation of “Makka na Aki.” The song, therefore, does more than just celebrate autumn—it reflects a longing for the innocence of childhood, the beauty of nature, and the sense of freedom that was slowly being lost as the country modernized.

“Please Recall”

Please recall. A spring day when gentle sunlight spills into a kindergarten classroom, illuminating walls adorned with colorful drawings scratched out by tiny hands holding crayons. The nursery song Omoide no Album (“The Album of Memories”) is a cherished staple of Japanese graduation ceremonies, evoking such warm memories. First introduced in 1961 as a rhythmic play resource for early childhood education, its leisurely waltz tempo perfectly suits little ones singing and dancing in carefree motion. Yet, as its title suggests, it’s imbued with a tender gaze upon children’s growth, and today it’s adored more by adults. For many, merely recalling the melody brings tears to the eyes—I’m one of them. This timeless theme of growth and parting resonates across borders, touching hearts everywhere.

The Teacher’s Gentle Perspective

Please recall. The morning of the graduation ceremony, when children in crisp uniforms, faces flickering with nerves and pride, clasp their teacher’s hand as if to hold the moment tight. Sung from a kindergarten teacher’s viewpoint, this song fondly revisits the events shared with children through the seasons. Lyrics like “We played together so nicely in the warm garden,” “Everyone in straw hats, running around bare,” “Hiking up the acorn hill, la la la,” and “Decorating the fir tree for Merry Christmas” weave seasonal memories with gentle care. To the teacher, these children are not just pupils but companions who laughed and played side by side. That warmth spills from the words, stirring empathy in listeners. The song unfolds with Verse 1 as an introduction, followed by spring in Verse 2, summer in 3, autumn in 4, winter in 5, winter again in 6, and a yearly summary in 7. This structure reflects the Christian faith of lyricist MASHIKO Toshi and the Buddhist beliefs of composer HONDA Tetsumaro, symbolizing the bond through seasons. Feel the teacher’s warm gaze and the deep love beneath it.

A Treasure for Parents and Adults

Please recall. The day your child first stepped through the kindergarten gate, waving tearfully as they looked back. Though it begins with the teacher’s voice, this song nestles deeply into parents’ hearts. At graduation, it prompts a flood of memories—growth, joy, and a pang of sadness—shared by so many. Originally crafted as a playful tune for children, it now echoes through spring graduation seasons, drawing tears from grown-ups. The lyric “Soon you’ll all be first-graders” is the teacher’s words to the child, yet it mirrors a parent’s hope and sentiment, too. The pride of raising a child and the fleeting nature of time are feelings known the world over. Typically, it’s sung up to Verse 5, though Verse 6 or 7 may be chosen to avoid religious tones, hinting at cultural nuance. The Album of Memories holds a mysterious power to comfort adults’ hearts.

Japan’s Heart and Legacy

Please recall. Children holding hands, singing as they step toward tomorrow. Rooted in Japan’s kindergarten traditions, this song carries the universal theme of growth and farewell to the world. Composer HONDA Tetsumaro spent his later years as the head priest of Jyourakuin, a Tendaishuu temple in Chofu, Tokyo, where a monument to this song stands on the grounds. The Buddhist HONDA and Christian MASHIKO Toshi crafted lyrics and music that transcend faith, with Verse 6’s “A cold snowy day, warm in our room” and Verse 7’s “Peach blossoms bloomed so beautifully, soon you’ll all be first-graders” perhaps symbolizing that harmony. Verse 5 often seals the graduation’s emotion, while 6 and 7 leave a quiet resonance. Listen to this song. The simple piano notes blending with children’s voices are like opening an album, reviving memories and love. A hallmark of Japan’s spring, it whispers to hearts everywhere, recalling the beauty of days spent with children.

100 Best Japanese Songs

The Medaka: A Tiny Fish with a Gentle Soul

The medaka, known by its scientific name Oryzias, is a tiny fish less than 5 centimeters long, inhabiting mainly freshwater and slightly brackish waters across East and South Asia. It prefers calm, slow-moving streams, ponds, and rice paddies—settings that evoke peaceful rural landscapes. Because of its habitat, it has been dubbed a type of “killifish,” a term derived from the Dutch word kilde, meaning “brook” or “small stream.” Yet, to Japanese ears, the presence of the word “kill” in “killifish” feels oddly jarring when associated with such gentle, charming creatures.

An alternative and more culturally resonant name is “Japanese Rice Fish,” which paints a fitting image of the medaka gracefully darting between stalks of rice in flooded paddies. This term aligns beautifully with the sensibility of Japanese aesthetics, which often celebrate the quiet beauty of nature and small lifeforms that thrive within it.

A Wartime Memory Behind the Lyrics

There’s a touching anecdote tied to the lyrics of the medaka-themed children’s song. During the Second World War, lyricist CHAKI Shigeru evacuated from Tokyo to Odawara, a coastal town in Kanagawa Prefecture, bringing along his young son. One day, while relaxing by the riverbank, CHAKI casually looked into the water and saw a school of medaka swimming peacefully.

Suddenly, a noise startled the fish, and they vanished in an instant. CHAKI voiced his disappointment, only for his son to comfort him by saying, “Don’t worry, they’ll come back soon. This river is like a school for medaka.” This innocent remark, though seemingly offhand, left a strong impression on CHAKI. While later accounts confirmed that this charming episode was a fictional backstory, it still offers a heartwarming glimpse into how the imagination can shape creative work.

The Power of Repetition: A Composer’s Touch

Interestingly, the well-known second line of the song—“Sotto nozoite mite goran” (“Take a peek quietly and see”)—was not originally repeated. It was NAKADA Yoshinao’s fiancée who suggested that the line be sung twice, adding a lyrical softness and childlike echo to the melody. This gentle repetition became a defining feature of the song, typically sung in a subdued, hushed voice that mirrors the quiet act of peeking into a stream without disturbing its delicate life.

A Childhood Mishearing That Lingers

As a child growing up in the Showa era, I distinctly remember mishearing the third verse of the song. The line “Mizu ni nagarete tsuui tsui” (“Drifting in the water, slipping along”) was something I confidently believed to be “suui sui”—a phrase that sounded more fluid and natural to my ears at the time. Even after consulting various lyrics archives, it turns out “tsuui tsui” is indeed the correct version. It’s a small yet delightful reminder of how children’s ears often interpret lyrics through their own imaginative filters.

A Medaka Renaissance in Modern Japan

In recent years, Japan has witnessed an unexpected “medaka boom.” Enthusiasts have selectively bred medaka to create stunning varieties with shimmering colors, unusual fins, and unique patterns. These designer medaka, some of which command high prices, are now beloved among collectors and hobbyists alike.

It’s quite possible that this quiet renaissance in medaka appreciation will extend overseas—much like how BONSAI, once a humble Japanese art form, now enjoys global admiration. The medaka, with its gentle charm and poetic presence in Japanese culture, might one day swim into the hearts of people around the world.

100 Best Japanese Songs

Thefts of high-end medaka killifish on the rise – Japan News Yomiuri 

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.

Celebrating Hina Matsuri: Japan’s Enchanting Festival for Girls’ Day

Every year on March 3rd, Japan celebrates a delightful spring tradition known as Hina Matsuri, or “Girls’ Day.” Also referred to as Momo no Sekku (Peach Festival), this special occasion coincides with the blooming of plum and peach blossoms following the traditional start of spring (Risshun). Families pray for the health and happiness of young girls by displaying elegant hina dolls, which represent members of a historic imperial court.

While many Japanese households arrange these dolls on a tiered stand, regional variations highlight unique customs such as Nagashi-bina (floating dolls set adrift on rivers to carry away misfortune) or Tsurushi-bina (colorful hanging ornaments). At the center of a typical hina display, you’ll find a lord and princess figure—often referred to as Odairi-sama—surrounded by court attendants called San-nin-kanjo, who serve the princess, and Gonin-bayashi, a group of five musicians playing festive tunes. The display also includes Zuijin (court guardians), featuring a left minister (Sadaijin) and a right minister (Udaijin). On the lower tiers, civilian figures known as shichou appear, symbolizing people tasked with everyday responsibilities.

iwatsuki nagashibina

By Sakaori (talk) – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, Link

In more affluent or traditionally-minded communities—especially in rural areas—you might encounter multi-tiered displays showcasing numerous dolls, miniature furniture, and intricate decorations. Meanwhile, in modern urban settings, busy lifestyles and limited living spaces have encouraged the popularity of compact hina sets that emphasize sleek designs. These may include highlights like Dairi-bina (simplified lord-and-princess dolls), Bonbori (paper or silk lanterns), as well as iconic festival foods like Shirozake or Amazake (sweet non-alcoholic rice drinks) and Hishimochi (diamond-shaped rice cakes in vibrant colors).

Interestingly, the well-known Japanese children’s song celebrating the festival mentions “Odairi-sama and Ohina-sama” as if they were separate entities. Historically, however, Odairi-sama alone already indicates both the lord and princess. This detail led lyricist YAMANO_Saburou (an alias of SATOU_Hachirou) to express regret over the confusion in later years—yet the phrasing has become a beloved part of this seasonal tune. Whether you encounter an elaborate, multi-tiered hina arrangement or a modest, contemporary display, Hina Matsuri remains a cherished symbol of springtime in Japan and a testament to the country’s enduring cultural traditions.

Hina Cake

A Cute, Compact Hina Doll Set for Small Spaces

A small square display (approx. 12.2 × 12.2 in; partition height 6.9 in), made with soft rayon crepe and an acetate-rayon carpet.
Includes the Emperor & Empress dolls, paper lanterns, diamond-shaped rice cakes, a partition, and a carpet.

View on Amazon