Walking through the town where snow falls silently. Does the melancholic melody depict the nighttime scenery? Along with that melody, the lyrics portray the wistful feelings within the heart. However, in the end, it concludes with a modulation that seems to deflect the coldness of the falling snow, evoking a sense of hope. The contrast between this scenery and the emotional tone is likely the reason for its enduring popularity.

Originally, it was hastily created to fill the gaps in radio dramas during downtime. Due to such circumstances, initially, there was only the first verse of lyrics. However, after it was aired, inquiries flooded in, leading to the addition of the second and third verses, ultimately resulting in its release as a record. It became a song sung for a long time, possibly resonating with the Japanese mentality.

While the exact setting of the song is unclear, it is said that the composer, NAKATA_Yoshinao, was inspired during a visit to Tsuruoka City in Yamagata Prefecture. The experience of being swayed through the winter night streets on a horse-drawn sled from the station reportedly sparked the idea.

Written as “Moon Mountain,” it is pronounced as Gassan. Located in Tsuruoka City, Yamagata Prefecture, Gassan is counted among the Dewa Sanzan, a trio of sacred mountains revered in the Shugendo tradition. Recognized for its significance in mountain worship by ascetic practitioners, it has also earned a place among Japan’s 100 Famous Mountains.

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 

Summer Memories — The Birth of a Musical Treasure in Post-War Japan

Picture Japan in 1949, just four years after World War II had ended. The country was rebuilding, and people were searching for ways to bring families together again. It was during this time that NHK, Japan’s national broadcasting corporation, launched an innovative program called “Radio Kayou” (Radio Songs). This wasn’t just another music program – it was born from a deep desire to heal and unite. Perhaps reflecting on how wartime propaganda songs like “Kokumin Kayou” had once stirred nationalistic fervor, NHK now wanted to create something entirely different: gentle melodies that families could gather around their radios to sing together in the comfort of their homes.

From this thoughtful initiative emerged “Natsu no Omoide” (Summer Memories), a song that would capture the hearts of generations of Japanese people. Today, this beautiful piece remains one of the most cherished examples of Douyo-Shouka – traditional Japanese songs that blend folk melodies with poetic lyrics. What makes this song so enduringly popular isn’t just its haunting melody, but its ability to paint vivid pictures of Japan’s pristine natural beauty through music and words.

A Lyrical Journey Through Japan’s Hidden Paradise

The song takes us on a poetic journey to Oze, a breathtaking highland marshland that feels like stepping into a fairy tale. This remarkable wetland ecosystem stretches majestically across three prefectures – Fukushima, Niigata, and Gunma – and holds the prestigious designation of being both a national park and one of Japan’s 100 most scenic spots. When you imagine Japan’s natural wonders, you might think of Mount Fuji or cherry blossoms, but Oze represents something equally magical yet more intimate.

The area is renowned for its incredibly strict environmental conservation policies, which have kept this wilderness virtually untouched for decades. Visitors must follow wooden boardwalks that wind through the marshland, ensuring that every footstep respects the delicate ecosystem. This careful preservation means that when you visit Oze today, you’re experiencing the same pristine beauty that inspired the song’s creation over 70 years ago. The commitment to protecting this natural sanctuary reflects the Japanese philosophy of living in harmony with nature – a theme that resonates deeply throughout the song.

Hatomachi Touge (Pass)　By Σ64 – Own work, CC BY 3.0, Link

The Story Behind the Words: A Wartime Memory Transformed

The woman who penned these evocative lyrics, EMA Shouko, has a fascinating story that adds layers of meaning to the song. In 1944, as World War II was reaching its devastating climax, she was evacuated to the Oze region for safety. Instead of dwelling on the hardships of wartime displacement, EMA found herself captivated by the area’s otherworldly beauty. Her lyrics were born not from a casual tourist visit, but from the deep, contemplative experience of someone who had time to truly observe and absorb the subtle rhythms of this highland paradise.

This personal connection explains why the song feels so authentic and emotionally resonant. EMA wasn’t just describing a pretty landscape – she was sharing a profound experience that had sustained her spirit during one of the darkest periods in modern Japanese history. The song became her love letter to a place that had offered solace and wonder when the world seemed broken. This backstory transforms “Natsu no Omoide” from a simple nature song into something much more profound: a testament to the healing power of natural beauty and the human capacity to find hope in the midst of despair.

Mt.Shibutsu and Ozegahara, Katashina Vill.,By Σ64 – Own work, CC BY 3.0, Link

The Beautiful Mystery of Seasonal Poetry

Here’s where the song becomes wonderfully intriguing: the star of “Natsu no Omoide” is the Mizubasho (Asian skunk cabbage), a plant whose large white petals create stunning displays across Oze’s wetlands. However, these magnificent flowers actually bloom from late May through June, right after the snow melts – not during the height of summer that the song’s title suggests. When curious fans pointed out this apparent contradiction to EMA Shouko, her response was both poetic and revealing: “I call the wonderful season of Mizubasho in Oze ‘summer’.”

This beautiful explanation opens up a window into the Japanese appreciation for seasonal subtlety. In traditional Japanese culture, seasons aren’t rigid calendar categories but fluid, emotional experiences. According to the classical seasonal calendar used in poetry and literature, Mizubasho is indeed considered a summer season word, reflecting an ancient understanding that nature’s rhythms don’t always match our modern calendar divisions. Even beyond the famous Mizubasho season, Oze continues to enchant visitors throughout the year with its ever-changing tapestry of colors: the fluffy white Watasuge (cotton grass) dancing in summer breezes, the bright yellow Nikkoukisuge lilies, and the spectacular Kusamomiji – the autumn transformation when grasses turn brilliant shades of red and gold, creating their own version of fall foliage.

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.

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100 Best Japanese Songs.