“Bonfires” are now rarely seen from the perspective of disaster prevention,
In the 1940s, it was sometimes held in the streets of Tokyo and in general parks.

The place where TATSUMI Seika, the lyricist, lived and wrote the lyrics,
It is a residential area about 5 minutes from “Arai Yakushi” station on the Seibu Shinjuku Line.

This song, contrary to its cheerful melody, walks through a history of adversity. It first appeared in 1941, scheduled for a three-day consecutive radio broadcast, but at the same time, Japan entered the Pacific War. The broadcast was forced to stop on the second day. There seemed to be a directive from military sources stating, “Even fallen leaves are valuable fuel sources. Burning anything that can be used to heat baths or cook in a bonfire is unacceptable.” As the war intensified, bonfires were said to become targets, leading to their complete suppression.

Even after the war, the broadcasting permission was withheld due to concerns about provoking riots from the perspective of maintaining public order, but it is said that by gradually accumulating small established facts, approval was finally granted retroactively.

Bonfires gather people in the cold season. Conversations are born when people gather.

If this kind of scenery is born again, I think that the enjoyment of the area will increase.

Interestingly, while older generations tend to associate campfires with roasting sweet potatoes, younger people nowadays are more likely to think of toasting marshmallows.

100 Best Japanese Songs

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.

According to one prevalent theory, the rich and fascinating history of skiing in Japan can be traced back to the year 1895, which is approximately 130 years ago. It is said that a soldier named Toshitane Matsukawa, who served in the Japanese army, traveled to Scandinavia and was captivated by the local culture and the winter sports practiced there. Upon his return to Japan, he brought back with him a pair of skis, which marked the very beginning of skiing as a recreational activity in the country. This moment is often seen as a pivotal point in the introduction of skiing to Japan, laying the groundwork for what would become a beloved winter pastime.

長岡外史 – 投稿者自身による著作物, CC 表示-継承 3.0, リンクによる

About 75% of Japan’s land area is covered by mountains and hilly terrain.

Since that historic moment, the number of skiers in Japan has gradually but steadily increased over the years. The country’s diverse and mountainous terrain, coupled with its generous snowfall, has made skiing an appealing and accessible pastime for many. As more people discovered the joy of gliding down snowy slopes, ski resorts began to pop up across the nation, catering to both beginners and seasoned skiers alike. This growth in popularity has transformed skiing from a niche activity into a mainstream sport, enjoyed by families, friends, and individuals seeking adventure during the winter months.

The peak of skiing’s popularity in Japan occurred during the bubble economy of the 1980s. During this vibrant period, the number of skiers reached its highest level, leading to a surge in demand for ski resorts. Popular ski destinations experienced overwhelming crowds, with many skiers waiting in long lines for up to two hours just to access the lifts. This frenzy not only reflected the enthusiasm for skiing but also the economic prosperity of the time, where leisure activities were highly valued. The atmosphere at these ski resorts was electric, filled with laughter, excitement, and the joy of winter sports, making it a memorable era for skiing enthusiasts.

Many ski resorts in Japan are not just about skiing; they also offer a unique blend of winter sports and relaxation. A significant number of these resorts feature hot spring facilities, allowing guests to unwind and rejuvenate after a long day on the slopes. The experience of soaking in a steaming hot spring while surrounded by the beautiful snowy landscape is an integral part of the Japanese winter experience. After skiing, many people look forward to warming up in the hot springs, and some even venture out to enjoy the vibrant nightlife at nearby hot spring resorts. During these evenings, visitors can savor a variety of local delicacies that reflect the unique culinary traditions of each region, often accompanied by a glass of fine sake (Japanese rice wine). This combination of skiing, hot springs, and regional cuisine creates a harmonious winter retreat that attracts visitors from all over the country.

Japan is home to numerous ski resorts, particularly in regions known for their exceptional winter conditions. Hokkaido and Nagano Prefecture, both of which have hosted the Winter Olympics, are particularly famous for their world-class skiing facilities. These areas, along with the Tohoku and Jo-shinetsu regions, are bustling with activity during the winter months. Ski enthusiasts flock to these resorts to enjoy the pristine snow and well-maintained slopes. The atmosphere is lively, with families and friends coming together to create unforgettable memories on the slopes, making Japan a premier destination for winter sports lovers.

Setsubun is the day that divides the seasons. Originally, it existed for each of the four seasons, but now only Setsubun remains to divide winter and spring, which falls on the day before the vernal equinox in early February (February 3 in 2024). This is the time of seasonal change, when the bad energy of the year is most accumulated. In addition, the cold weather makes it easy to fall ill. Therefore, it has taken root as an event to purify bad qi and pray for good health throughout the year. As a result, the custom of scattering beans and decorating holly and sardine heads was born to ward off evil spirits. The spiritual meaning of Setsubun is to purify one’s negative emotions and thoughts, and to prepare for the new season with a positive attitude.Many shrines and temples hold Setsubun events.

By – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, Link

On Setsubun day, families generally eat dinner together. After dinner, they prepare beans for throwing and demon masks, and throw beans towards the inside and outside of the house while chasing the demon role wearing the mask. When throwing, it is customary to say “Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!” (Demons out! Luck in!). After the bean-throwing is over, they pick up and eat the same number of beans as their age. This is a charm to stay healthy for a year.

Holly and sardine heads are amulets to ward off evil spirits. Holly has many thorns and is said to prick bad energy. Sardine heads are said to find bad energy because sardines have large eyes. By decorating holly and sardine heads at the entrance or window, it is said to protect the house.

Ehoumaki, a sushi roll eaten on Setsubun day, is one of the pleasures of the day. The origin of Ehoumaki is a custom that began in Osaka during the Edo period. It is a custom to silently eat Ehoumaki while facing the lucky direction (ehou) of the year to wish for good luck. Ehoumaki contains seven ingredients named after the Seven Lucky Gods. Ehoumaki became a nationwide phenomenon from the 1990s to the 2000s. During this time, convenience stores and supermarkets launched campaigns to sell Ehoumaki. It is said that this was a strategy of the distribution industry to attract customers during the Setsubun season.

“Haru yo koi” is a children’s song that depicts a little girl named Mii-chan eagerly awaiting the end of the snowbound winter and longing to play outside. Mii-chan is believed to be the model for this song, the daughter of the lyricist SOUMA_Gyofuu, who was just two years old when the song was released in 1923. Gyofuu, the father, never spoke about it, but according to the mother, he once showed them the “tiny, tiny red straw sandals that were the first gift Mii-chan ever received.”

After attending Waseda University in Tokyo and working as a university lecturer while engaging in literary activities, Gyofuu returned to his hometown of Itoigawa City in Niigata Prefecture in his mid-thirties. From then on, alongside his creative pursuits, he also delved into the study of Ryoukan, a local monk and poet. Ryoukan was known for his love for children, and his famous anecdote of playing with them until sunset. “Haru yo koi” reflects Gyofuu’s unique perspective and empathy towards Ryoukan.

By Yoshio Kohara, CC BY 3.0, Link

Although Itoigawa City, situated along the Sea of Japan, rarely experiences an average temperature below freezing in February, Niigata Prefecture is renowned as one of the world’s leading snowfall areas. The song beautifully captures the emotions of children eagerly anticipating the arrival of spring, even in this snowy region.

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 

Baby with koinobori

In Japan, on Children’s Day, May 5, it is customary to decorate the eaves of houses with boys with carp streamers.

Although the name is “Children’s Day,” March 3, when peach blossoms bloom, celebrates “Momo-no Sekku” for girls, so it is said that May of the lunar calendar, which is the noon month of the twelve Chinese zodiac signs, became “Tango-no Sekku,” an event to celebrate boys’ growth.

Originally, “banners,” a type of flag, were erected, but in the Edo period (1603-1867), merchants began to display carp-shaped banners based on a Chinese legend that “a carp that climbs a waterfall becomes a dragon,” and this event is said to have become popular.

By from Portland, Oregon, EE UU – Boy’s Festival – Fish Kites, CC BY 2.0, Link

Initially, only black carp were used, but red scarlet carp were added to represent children. Later, the red carp came to represent the mother carp, the blue carp was added to represent the children’s carp, and for the first Tokyo Olympic Game in 1964, the green and yellow and other sibling carp were also created.

Today, however, with the increase in the number of high-rise houses, the sight of carp dancing in the blue sky has become less common in large cities such as Tokyo, but in the countryside, the custom of decorating carp streamers of various kinds remains, delighting the eyes of tourists.

koinobori at Tsuruudagawa (Gunma Pref.)

100 Best Japanese Songs

▼Another ‘Koinobori’ song.

Koinobori / irakanonamito (1913) - 鯉のぼり

"Iraka no nami to kumo no nami" Discover good old-fashioned Japan through lyrics and images: Roman readings, English translations, and reflections. Take a cultural journey through the melodies of "Doyo Shoka" (Children's Songs).

douyo-shouka.com

2025.05.02

“Palm fruit” is also called “Yashi no mi” in Japan.

YANAGITA Kunio, a folklorist who spent one summer in the Meiji Era at Cape Irago in Tahara, Aichi Prefecture, told his literary friend about an episode in which he found a “palm fruit” washed ashore while taking a walk on the beach.

It was a time when knowledge of foreign countries was scarce. And the Japanese, surrounded by the sea, are thought to have long felt a romantic sense of “what kind of world there is outside the sea. This is probably the reason why people still refer to foreign countries as “kaigai,” which means “outside the sea. SHIMAZAKI Touson, a well-known literary giant of the Meiji period, was inspired to write these lyrics by a palm tree that had drifted ashore on a journey across the sea. He said to YANAGITA, “Give me the story. Don’t tell anyone.

The beautiful poem and melody, written in “Japanese for literature,” which is not used today, has been selected as one of the “100 Best Japanese Songs.

Many people take the one-hour ferry from Cape Irago to Ise-Shima to visit the Ise Jingu Shrine.

Photo by (c)Tomo.Yun

Tanabata sama — When Summer Stars Come Alive in Song

“Tanabata-sama” is more than just a children’s song – it’s a musical gateway to one of Japan’s most enchanting summer traditions. This beloved melody celebrates Tanabata, a festival that transforms the ordinary evening of July 7th into something truly magical. The name itself tells a story: written in kanji as “七夕” (literally “seven evenings”), Tanabata is also known as the Star Festival, and for good reason. As twilight descends on this special night, families across Japan gather to look up at the summer sky, searching for the celestial drama that has captivated hearts for over a millennium.

The festival represents a beautiful blend of ancient Chinese legend and distinctly Japanese customs, creating a celebration that feels both timeless and intimate. What makes Tanabata particularly special is how it connects the vastness of the universe with the simple hopes and dreams of everyday people. When children sing “Tanabata-sama,” they’re not just performing a cute song – they’re participating in a tradition that links them to countless generations who have gazed at the same stars and wished upon the same cosmic love story.

A Love Story Written in the Stars

At the heart of Tanabata lies one of the most romantic tales ever told, a story so beautiful it has inspired countless songs, poems, and festivals. Picture Orihime, the weaving goddess whose star we know as Vega in the constellation Lyra. She was so dedicated to her craft – creating the most exquisite fabrics in all of heaven – that she never took time to care for her own appearance or seek companionship. On the other side of the celestial realm lived Hikoboshi (known to us as Altair in the constellation Aquila), a diligent cowherd who spent his days tending cattle and working the heavenly fields with unwavering dedication.

The gods, moved by the loneliness of these two hardworking souls, arranged for them to meet through the mediation of Deneb in the constellation Cygnus. Together, these three stars form what astronomers call the “Great Summer Triangle,” a brilliant celestial landmark that dominates the summer sky. When Orihime and Hikoboshi met, it was love at first sight – a romance so powerful it literally changed the heavens. Their wedding was celebrated throughout the cosmos, and for a brief, shining moment, perfect happiness reigned in the celestial realm.

But love, as beautiful as it can be, sometimes comes with consequences that even the gods didn’t foresee.

When Love Disrupts the Universe

The newlyweds were so intoxicated with their happiness that they completely abandoned their duties. Orihime’s loom fell silent, and no more beautiful fabrics graced the heavens. Hikoboshi’s cattle wandered aimlessly while he spent his days gazing lovingly at his bride. The cosmic order itself began to unravel as these essential workers forgot everything except each other. The supreme deity, witnessing this celestial dereliction of duty, made a decision that would break hearts across the universe.

In divine anger, he separated the lovers, placing them on opposite sides of the vast Milky Way – Orihime in the west and Hikoboshi in the east. The silver river of stars that had once seemed so beautiful now became an insurmountable barrier, keeping the lovers apart for eternity. Or almost eternity. Moved by their tears and genuine remorse, the gods granted them one precious gift: once each year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, magpies would form a bridge across the Milky Way, allowing the lovers to reunite for a single, precious night.

This is why Tanabata carries such a bittersweet beauty – it celebrates not just love, but love that endures separation, distance, and the inexorable passage of time. Every July 7th, as people across Japan look up at the summer sky, they’re witnessing this eternal love story play out among the stars.

From Ancient Legend to Modern Celebration

Today’s Tanabata has evolved into something wonderfully accessible and family-friendly, though it retains all the magic of its ancient origins. What makes this festival particularly special is how it brings joy to children across Japan. In kindergartens and preschools throughout the country, little hands eagerly grasp crayons and markers to write their innocent wishes on colorful strips of paper called “tanzaku” – perhaps hoping for a new bicycle, asking for their pet hamster to stay healthy, or wishing to become a superhero when they grow up. These precious handwritten dreams are then carefully tied to bamboo branches, creating wish trees that flutter like prayer flags in the summer breeze.

The festival has also become a cornerstone of Japan’s early summer atmosphere, transforming ordinary spaces into magical wonderlands. Shopping malls compete to create the most enchanting Tanabata displays, with elaborate decorations cascading from ceilings and bamboo groves appearing in unexpected corners. These commercial celebrations serve a beautiful purpose – they bring the ancient tradition into modern daily life, allowing busy families to pause and participate in this timeless ritual of hope. You’ll find these charming displays everywhere during Tanabata season, from grand installations at department stores to simple bamboo branches in local supermarkets, each one representing someone’s heartfelt hopes for the future.

Interestingly, weather forecasters have become unofficial participants in the Tanabata tradition. Every year on July 7th, they invariably comment on the evening’s weather conditions, and there does seem to be an unusually high probability of rain on this night. With a twinkle in their eyes, meteorologists often explain this as “the tears of Orihime and Hikoboshi” – either tears of joy at their reunion or tears of sorrow at their brief time together. While we might laugh at the idea that earthbound weather has anything to do with cosmic romance, there’s something delightfully poetic about the notion that even the skies participate in this ancient love story.

The most spectacular modern Tanabata celebrations take place in Sendai City, Miyagi Prefecture, where the entire downtown area transforms into a wonderland of colorful streamers and elaborate decorations. But perhaps the true magic of Tanabata lies not in the grand festivals, but in those quiet moments when families gather to sing “Tanabata-sama” and look up at the summer stars, connecting their own hopes and dreams to a love story that has been unfolding in the heavens for over a thousand years.

The song conveys the exuberance of children riding the train. It is very popular because of its very cheerful and joyful tune.

Originally, however, it was the soldiers who rode the train. The original version of this song, “Soldier’s Train,” was written in 1937 to see off soldiers heading off to war.

By Unknown author – http://www.pref.okayama.jp/hoken/hohuku/engo/photo/seikatu6-20.htm (adjusted by uploader), Public Domain, Link

In 1945, the year the war ended, the song was chosen to be sung in NHK radio’s New Year’s Eve special program “Kouhaku Ongaku Shiai (Kouhaku Music Contest),” and some of the lyrics were changed and reworked as a song for traveling children appropriate for the era of peace.

The lyricist, FUHARA Kaoru, was born in Gotemba City, Shizuoka Prefecture, at the foot of Mt. Gotemba was the site of an army training ground at the time, and it is said that he and his students often saw off soldiers who were going off to war.

The melody is said to have been inspired by Schubert’s “Military March.

100 Best Japanese Songs

Gratitude for the Harvest and Prayers for the Coming Year

Muramatsuri is a vital community event held in autumn across various regions of Japan, primarily conducted to thank the gods of the land for a good harvest of agriculture (mainly rice cultivation) and to pray for a bountiful harvest in the following year. This festival is not merely a regional event, but serves as a sacred ritual that expresses deep respect for nature’s bounty and confirms the spiritual connection with the gods. In agricultural villages welcoming the harvest season, it becomes a precious time to celebrate the fruits of a year’s labor together with the gods and express heartfelt gratitude.

Autumn Festival at Emishu-guu, Tenmangu Shrine in Shikama Ward, Himeji City ( Hyougo Prefecture)

Coexistence with the Eight Million Gods

Japanese gods are called Yaoyorozu no Kami (The gods dwell everywhere.), and they are believed to dwell in various places throughout our lives: rice paddies, fields, mountains, oceans, kamado (places where fire is handled), and countless other locations. Although usually invisible to the eye, people invite these gods into their homes and communities, holding festivals to show their appreciation. This worldview reflects the ancient Japanese belief that sacred power resides in all aspects of the natural world, a concept that continues to resonate in many people’s hearts even today.
Despite influences from foreign religions such as Buddhism and Christianity, Japan has never lost its reverence for the Shinto belief in the yaoyorozu no kami. Furthermore, even in the 21st century, we can observe how animistic culture continues to blend seamlessly with Japan’s high-tech orientation. This phenomenon can be attributed to Japan’s cultural diversity, inclusiveness, and deep sense of coexistence with nature.

Dousojin ( traveler’s guardian deity )

Shinto’s View of Nature and Its Modern Legacy

Shintoism has long been rooted in the worship of nature and the veneration of ancestors, maintaining animistic beliefs that gods reside in mountains, rivers, trees, and other elements of nature. This deep connection with daily life and local communities allowed Shinto to coexist harmoniously with foreign religions. For instance, when Buddhism arrived in the 6th century, instead of conflicting with Shinto, it merged to create a unique religious tradition called shinbutsu-shuugou (syncretism of Shinto and Buddhism), which shaped Japan’s distinctive spiritual landscape.
Even in the 21st century, this animistic worldview remains deeply embedded in Japanese culture, naturally blending with modern technology and subculture. The prevalence of anime and video games featuring themes of spirits and the power of nature reflects Shintoist values, demonstrating that the belief in spirits residing in natural objects continues to be part of people’s daily lives.

By Indiana jo – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, Link

Embraced by the Festival’s Melodies

During the festivals, people sing, dance, and enjoy themselves with the gods using traditional instruments: the fue (flute) and taiko (drums). The powerful “don” sound of the drums and the beautiful “hyarara” melody of the flutes resonate throughout the village, creating a sacred atmosphere. These traditional instrumental sounds play a crucial role in welcoming the gods and expressing gratitude, while also uniting the hearts of all participants.

After the autumn festival concludes, the villagers begin preparing for winter. The festival represents Japanese wisdom of living in harmony with natural rhythms, marking the seasonal transitions and maintaining awareness of nature’s cycles.

Tsuchiura City Yasaka Festival (Ibaraki Prefecture) , By NU-Xs – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, Link

“Shizuka na Kohan” – Origins and Mysterious Background

“Shizuka na Kohan no Mori no Kage Kara” (From the Forest Shadows of the Quiet Lakeside) is a children’s song believed to have been created in 1936 at the YMCA Nojiri Lake Camp. Lake Nojiri is a beautiful lake straddling Shinano-machi in Kamiminochi District and Nagano City in northern Nagano Prefecture. Located at an elevation of 654 meters in the highlands about an hour’s drive from Karuizawa, this lake remains cool even in summer—truly the perfect camping environment.

Lake Nojiri ( Nojiri-ko )

The song’s title can be written as either “Shizuka na kohan” or “Shizuka na kohan no mori no kage kara,” and this casual flexibility is part of its charm. The lyricist is credited as YAMAKITA Takihiko, but various versions of the lyrics exist, and the true author is often considered unknown.

Interestingly, the original melody is said to be either a Swiss or French folk song, but the actual country of origin remains unclear. Perhaps it’s precisely because this melody has been beloved and sung across so many European countries that it has become so cherished in Japan as well.

Incidentally, there’s also Lake Nozori in Gunma Prefecture, known as the “Lake in the Sky” at 1,500 meters elevation, but this lake has no connection to our children’s song.

Lyrical Structure and Why It’s So Beloved

The most famous part of this song is the first verse: “Shizuka na kohan no mori no kage kara, mou okicha ikaga to kakkou ga naku, kakkou, kakkou” (From the forest shadows of the quiet lakeside, the cuckoo calls ‘won’t you wake up now?’ Cuckoo, cuckoo). Most Japanese people could probably hum along to this part.

The cuckoo(Cuculus canorus) is a migratory bird known for its distinctive “cuckoo” call, and in Japan it’s cherished as a herald of early summer. The lyrical expression of the cuckoo calling out “won’t you wake up now?” demonstrates the beautiful Japanese use of personification.

Actually, there are subsequent verses featuring owl sounds like “hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo,” but unfortunately these are rarely sung. The first verse alone became overwhelmingly popular because of the rhythmic simplicity of the “cuckoo, cuckoo” refrain and the way it conveys the refreshing feeling of a highland morning. It really gets you excited for the camping adventure ahead!

Cultural Spread Through Singing in Transit

When people think of “Shizuka na Kohan,” many probably remember singing it in buses on the way to school camps or nature retreats. While it’s sometimes sung around campfires, it’s actually more commonly heard during travel—in buses and trains.

Gazing out at the flowing green scenery while everyone sings “cuckoo, cuckoo” together—many people have experienced this. This song has a mysterious power: as you sing it, spirits naturally lift and the distance between participants seems to shrink.

When outdoor activities became popular in postwar Japan, this song was actively sung in Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, and school nature programs. It’s also beloved in kindergartens and nursery schools as a seasonal song, playing an important role as children’s first introduction to nature.

Contemporary Significance and International Value

In our digital age, the value of “Shizuka na Kohan” shines even brighter. Rather than staring at smartphone screens, this song invites us to look at the blue sky reflected on lake surfaces and the green of forests. It continues to serve as an important gateway to such experiences.

For foreign visitors, this song offers a fascinating glimpse into Japanese attitudes toward nature. With about 70% of Japan’s land consisting of mountains and forests, this geographical feature has nurtured the Japanese people’s delicate sensitivity to nature. The ability to find beauty in “quietness” and to listen carefully to birdsong represents a uniquely Japanese forest culture.

By Bourrichon (atelier graphique), CC BY-SA 2.0 fr, Link

The unknown authorship is also intriguing. While created by an individual, it has been passed down and sung by many people, gradually changing while continuing to be loved. This perhaps represents the very life force of folk songs and traditional culture.

Even today, somewhere in Japan, children are probably humming this song while riding in a bus. The little song born at Lake Nojiri continues to color new generations’ summer memories nearly 90 years later.

Japan’s first travel agency, founded in 1905

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.

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