“Sand dunes.” This song depicts the scene of a Japan Sea beach on the verge of harsh winter, with rough waves approaching.

As dusk sets in, the voices of children bidding “goodbye” and “see you tomorrow” overlap with the chirping of sparrows.

The poet KITAHARA Hakushu once said,

“I watch sparrows. Always watching. Not just watching, but always being with sparrows, flying and chirping along with them.”

Visible beyond the sea is Sado (or Sado Island), viewed from Yoriihama in Niigata Prefecture, the setting of this song.

Sado, once prosperous with gold and silver mines, like the juniper plains of Silverberry field, a famous spot in Niigata Town as a sandy coast during the Edo period, gradually faded into obscurity with the passage of time. Perhaps this song, too, might be unknown to the youth of modern-day Japan.

“Tooryanse (Go on through)” is a well-known Warabe uta (children’s folk song) that has been passed down since the Edo period.It is said that MOTOORI_Nagayo composed the music for use in a children’s opera in 1921.

However, this song is accompanied by mysterious rumors. It involves a negotiation between those who wish to pass through the road to visit Tenjin-sama and those who question the reasons for doing so. In the end, permission is granted, but it sounds as if a warning is given, “You can go, but be careful on your way back,” imbuing a somewhat suspicious nuance. The unique melody also adds to this impression.

One significant reason for the mysterious atmosphere may be associated with the legend of the vengeful spirit of SUGAWARA_no_Michizane. Recognized for his talent and promising future, he fell victim to conspiracy, faced false accusations, and met an untimely death. Subsequently, disasters occurred frequently, and he came to be feared as the curse of Michizane. To appease his spirit, he was enshrined as “Tenjin-sama,” a deity still revered as the god of learning. Dazaifu Tenmangu Shrine in Fukuoka is a representative shrine dedicated to him. Kitano Tenmangu Shrine in Kyoto was depicted on the old 5-yen bill along with the portrait of Michizane.

Photo: Knowledgekid87
5 Yen Note: The Bank of Japan – Picture from cellphone
Previously published: N/A, パブリック・ドメイン, リンクによる

Also, the lyrics mention “celebrating this child’s 7th birthday” and “to deposit a talisman,” but in Japan, there is an old saying, “Tsu ga tsuku uchi wa kami no uchi” (As long as ‘Tsu’ is attached, it is the same as a deity), which means that from 1 year old represented by “Hitotsu” to 9 years old represented by “Kokonotsu”, they are considered the same as a deity. It is also said, “Nanatsu madewa kaminoko” (Up to seven, they are children of a deity). This means that they are beings close to the world where the deity resides, and it can’t be helped if they return to the deity at any time. In other words, it represents being adjacent to “death”. In fact, in the past, the mortality rate of infants without resistance was high, and “Shichi Go San (753)” is an event to thank the deity for being able to live up to that year. By the way, 3 and 7 years old are for girls, and 5 years old is for boys. The “child” sung in “Tooryanse” is probably a 7-year-old girl. There are regions that call exceeding 9 years old with ‘Tsu’ and becoming 10 years old (Tou) as “Tsubanare”.In some regions, the age of 10 (Tou) is called “Tsubanare” after the age of 9 with “Tsu”.

Regarding the phrase “Iki wa yoiyoi, Kaeri wa kowai,” it is suggested that the setting of the song, Sanyono Shrine in Kawagoe City, Saitama Prefecture, within Kawagoe Castle, had strict surveillance by watchful soldiers. Therefore, the expression “scary” might have been used to convey the meaning of “I’ll let you go, but be cautious on your way back.” Since it is close to Tokyo, I encourage you to visit and explore it sometime.

SUGAWARA_no_Michizane was fond of plum blossoms and used them on his crest.

Where is “Desert of the Moon” set? When is the season?
Actually, there is no clear answer to either of those questions.

As for the setting, it is often said to be Onjyuku Beach in Chiba Prefecture, where the songwriter, Kato, who was frail, often visited to recuperate and later moved to make his final home. Kato himself is said to have publicly stated that this place was the model for the song after the town of Onjyuku_cho built a statue in commemoration of the Desert of the Moon.

As for the season, the word “oboro” appears in the story, so it must be spring, right? However, the tune of the song suggests a somber autumn.

onjyuku station

In fact, however, Kato is said to have said that it was totally imaginary. At the time, it was not easy to know what was going on in other countries, and the writer’s imagination resulted in these beautiful lyrics, which inspired the composer Sasaki to create this lyrical piece of music. Since Kato’s lyrics were published in the year of the Great Kanto Earthquake, the piece remains popular.

The “pechka,” a heating appliance born from the wisdom of northern peoples, is a type of stove that combines the functions of a fireplace and a stove. It has evolved uniquely in different regions. In Scandinavia, stone pechkas, primarily made of granite due to its low thermal conductivity, are characteristic. It is believed they maintained consistent room temperatures by leveraging the stone’s heat retention properties.

In Russia, brick pechkas became dominant, often featuring elegant decorations while maintaining practicality. Records from mansions in St. Petersburg, the capital, document the existence of pechkas beautifully adorned with decorative tiles.

The pechka culture in Manchuria is considered to have been formed through a confluence of historical factors. The presence of Russian communities who settled in northeastern China, the influence of engineers involved in the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway, and the arrival of Japanese migrants all intertwined to cultivate a distinctive style.

In the 1920s, Manchuria was in the midst of significant social transformation. The warlord conflicts following the Xinhai Revolution, the influx of Russian immigrants after the Siberian Intervention, and Japan’s full-fledged management of Manchuria created a historical landscape where different cultures met and merged.

During this period, the South Manchuria Educational Association commissioned the creation of songs for Japanese children living in the area. In response, KITAHARA Hakushuu wrote the lyrics and YAMADA Kousaku composed the music. It is said that during their visit to the region, they were exposed to a rich musical culture where Russian folk songs, Chinese folk songs, and Japanese songs intermingled, with the pechka as a central gathering point.

Later, the pechka was also introduced to Hokkaido. Documents from the Colonial Ministry record that Russian engineers, invited by the Meiji government, provided guidance, and the pechka was modified to suit the lives of Japanese people using locally available materials. Today, pechkas can still be seen in places like the Historical Village of Hokkaido, the former NAGAYAMA Takeshiro Residence, and the former Mitsubishi Mining Dormitory. In recent years, the thermal efficiency and heat retention of the pechka have garnered renewed attention due to environmental concerns, and new research incorporating the latest technologies has begun.

People gather around its warmth, engaging in casual conversations. One of the few joys of a cold winter is found around the pechka. The lyrics and music that evoke such scenes continue to be loved by many, even 100 years after their release.

Overview of the Children’s Song “Dokoka de Haru ga”

Published in 1923 (Taishou 12), “Dokoka de Haru ga” is a children’s song that gently conveys the breath of spring. Characterized by elements such as the sound of flowing water and the chirping of skylarks (hibari), it subtly evokes the anticipation of spring’s arrival through small, natural changes. Because it was created during the Taishou era—when rigid school songs were gradually being replaced by more accessible children’s songs—“Dokoka de Haru ga” soon found its way into many classrooms and homes, where it has been widely sung ever since.

Taishou Democracy and the Birth of Children’s Songs

The Taishou period, when this song was composed, was marked by an intellectual movement known as **Taishou Democracy**, which emphasized liberalism and respect for individuality throughout society. In the field of education, there was a strong trend toward valuing children’s sensibilities. Magazines like *Akai Tori* (“Red Bird”) became cultural hubs where writers, poets, and composers inspired each other to create new children’s songs and stories. Within this vibrant environment, “Dokoka de Haru ga” emerged as a piece that straightforwardly celebrates the transition of the seasons, ultimately becoming a timeless favorite cherished across generations.

Image from Wikipedia, original image page

Depictions of Nature and the Meaning of “Kochi” (East Wind)

The lyrics are filled with elements that signal the coming of spring—from the trickle of melting snow and the sight of fresh sprouts emerging from the ground, to subtle sounds that stimulate the five senses. Of particular note is the term **“kochi,”** or east wind. Rather than just indicating a wind blowing from the east, the word also draws on the ancient Four Gods (Four Symbols) concept that associates spring with the east. During the postwar period, “kochi” was temporarily replaced with the more understandable term “soyokaze” (gentle breeze), but in recent years, there has been renewed appreciation for the original term’s cultural significance and for the distinctly Japanese sense of the seasons it conveys.

Lyricist MOMOTA Souji and Composer KUSAKAWA Shin

The lyrics of “Dokoka de Haru ga” were written by Momota Souji, a poet and children’s literature author born in Osaka City. Active from the Taishou through the Shouwa eras, he was known for his “people’s poetry” style, leaving behind numerous works that highlight the importance of children’s perspectives. Meanwhile, KUSAKAWA Shin, the composer, hailed from Kamiminochi District in Nagano Prefecture (now around the Nagano City area). Also celebrated for songs like “Yuuyake Koyake” and “Yurikago no Uta,” he excelled at creating simple yet memorable melodies for children. In “Dokoka de Haru ga,” KUSAKAWA distilled the gentle atmosphere of spring into a short, easy-to-sing tune. Their collaboration produced a song in which tender lyrics and melody harmonize beautifully, and it continues to be embraced as a quintessential symbol of spring in Japan.

100 Best Japanese Songs

Why Do “Shabon dama (Soap Bubbles)” Still Captivate Children Today?

On sunny early summer days, you’ll often spot children in parks creating magical soap bubbles that dance and shimmer in the air. While times have changed and play styles have evolved, this simple joy remains as captivating as ever. There’s something truly heartwarming about watching children’s faces light up as they create those perfect, floating spheres—each one a small miracle of physics and wonder.

The beloved children’s song “Shabon dama” is perhaps Japan’s most recognizable melody, one that virtually everyone has hummed at least once in their lifetime. This timeless tune first appeared in 1922 when poet NOGUCHI Ujyou published the lyrics in the Buddhist children’s magazine “Kin no Tou.” A year later, composer NAKAYAMA Shimpei crafted the hauntingly simple melody that would make this song unforgettable. The combination of straightforward notes and the ethereal image of soap bubbles created something that touched hearts across generations.

What Makes These Simple Words So Moving?

Though deceptively brief and simple, NOGUCHI’s lyrics carry profound emotional weight. The image of soap bubbles soaring high before bursting and vanishing serves as a powerful metaphor for life’s beauty and fragility. But there’s a deeper, more personal story hidden within these innocent-seeming words.

Many believe that NOGUCHI’s personal tragedy breathes life into this song. The lyrics are thought to express his profound grief over the loss of his eldest daughter, who died just seven days after birth. Through the delicate imagery of soap bubbles—beautiful, precious, and heartbreakingly brief—he channeled his sorrow and the painful lesson about life’s transience. While no direct statement from NOGUCHI confirms this interpretation, additional verses he wrote later seem to support this theory, revealing layers of meaning beneath the surface.

Shabon dama tonda
Soap bubbles flew

Yane yori takaku
Higher than the roof

Fuuwari fuwari
Softly, gently

Tsuzuite tonda
They continued to fly

Shabon dama ii na
Soap bubbles are beautiful

Osora ni noboru
Rising to the sky

Nobotte itte
Going up

Kaette konai
And never coming back

Fuuwari fuwari
Softly, gently

Shabon dama tonda
Soap bubbles flew

How Buddhist Wisdom Shaped a Children’s Song

The lyrics show that this is a requiem.

The song’s publication in a Buddhist children’s magazine offers another clue to its deeper meaning. Buddhism teaches the fundamental truth that “nothing lasts forever”—a concept known as impermanence. “Shabon-dama” beautifully reflects this philosophy, celebrating the fleeting beauty of each moment in our ever-changing world.

Imagine NOGUCHI watching young girls play with soap bubbles, perhaps wondering what his own daughter might have looked like engaged in such innocent play. The song’s gentle plea—”Wind, wind, don’t blow. Let’s fly soap bubbles”—expresses a tender wish to protect these fragile moments of joy, much like a parent’s instinct to shield their child from life’s harsh realities.

Why Does This Song Touch Us More Deeply as Adults?

“Shabon dama” possesses a rare quality that allows it to evoke different emotions and interpretations depending on the listener’s life experience. The same song we sang carelessly as children takes on new dimensions when we encounter it again as adults, having experienced our own losses and learned about life’s precious fragility.

NAKAYAMA Shimpei’s deliberately simple and unadorned melody enhances this emotional impact, allowing the profound lyrics to resonate without distraction. Even today, “Shabon dama” continues to weave its magic across Japan—children sing it in kindergartens and nursery schools, while families hum it together at home. This enduring song serves as a mirror reflecting the Japanese heart, capturing both the joy of innocent play and the deeper wisdom that comes with understanding life’s impermanence.

The masterpiece created by NOGUCHI Ujyou and NAKAYAMA Shimpei will undoubtedly continue to touch hearts for generations to come, reminding us that sometimes the most profound truths are found in the simplest moments—like watching soap bubbles dance in the summer air.

100 Best Japanese Songs

Amefuri Otsukisan — What Makes Japan’s Rainy Season So Special?

“Amefuri Otsukisan” perfectly captures the essence of Japan’s unique rainy season called “Tsuyu” (梅雨) or “Baiu” (梅雨)—both readings refer to the same phenomenon that occurs from June to early July. This is Japan’s wettest time of year, marking the beginning of the hot and humid summer that defines the country’s climate. Unlike sudden downpours in other regions, Tsuyu brings prolonged, gentle rains that seem to envelope the entire landscape in a misty, dreamlike atmosphere.

The song’s haunting melody and evocative imagery transport listeners directly into this season of perpetual drizzle, where clouds hide the moon and create an almost mystical setting. It’s during this time that Japan transforms—hydrangeas bloom in vibrant purples and blues, rice paddies shimmer with fresh water, and the air itself seems to carry stories of old.

tsuyu? baiu?

Why Does She Journey Alone on This Rainy Night?

The song tells the mysterious tale of a woman traveling alone to her wedding on a cloudy night when the moon remains hidden behind thick clouds. But why does she make this important journey by herself? The lyrics don’t reveal the full story, leaving listeners to imagine the circumstances. Yet rather than depicting this as a tragic tale, the beautiful melody suggests a story of quiet determination and acceptance.

This solitary journey speaks to something deeper about human resilience. The woman in the song isn’t portrayed as a victim of circumstance, but rather as someone who has found her own strength within the constraints of her time. The gentle, flowing melody mirrors the steady rain—persistent, inevitable, yet somehow comforting in its constancy.

※Source:worldbank.org (CC BY 4.0)

How Did Marriage Work in Old Japan?

To understand this song’s deeper meaning, we need to look at historical context. In old Japan, it was common for women to marry into families where they’d never met their future husbands. With about 70% of the country covered in forests and limited agricultural land, it wasn’t unusual for brides to travel over mountains to neighboring villages for arranged marriages.

The Japanese character for “bride” (嫁) beautifully illustrates this reality—it combines the characters for “woman” (女) and “house” (家), literally meaning “woman of the house.” Marriage was primarily seen as a union between households rather than individuals. In an agricultural society, the emphasis was on securing labor and ensuring the continuation of family lines through children. While this might seem harsh by today’s standards, it was the foundation upon which most families were built.

How Did Two Songs Become One Masterpiece?

Here’s a fascinating detail about this beloved song: it wasn’t originally written as a single piece! “Amefuri Otsukisan” began as two separate songs. The first, with its memorable opening about rain and the moon, was so well-received that a sequel called “Kumo no Kage” (Shadow of the Clouds) was created to continue the story.

When it came time to record the songs, composer NAKAYAMA Shimpei made the brilliant suggestion to combine both pieces into one cohesive work. This creative decision transformed two good songs into one masterpiece that flows seamlessly from the woman’s departure into the rainy night through to her journey’s end. The combined version creates a more complete narrative arc while maintaining the mysterious, contemplative mood that makes the song so captivating.

Today, this combined version continues to be cherished and has earned its place among the “100 Best Japanese Songs.” It stands as a testament to how sometimes the most profound stories emerge not from dramatic tragedy, but from quiet moments of human strength and the gentle persistence of rain on a summer night.

Fun in the Amefuri (rainfall)! Mom’s Loving Umbrella and Children’s Smiles

Young children love their mothers unconditionally. Indeed, many of the songs about parents and children in the world are probably more about mothers than fathers. As a man, as a father, I feel a little disappointed, but thinking back, I was the same way. It is inevitable.

Rain is depressing when you are an adult. However, this song depicts a fun, childlike rainfall.

When a child is under an umbrella with their mother, their bodies are close to each other and they want to talk about various things.

JYANOME is a type of Japanese umbrella. It was so called because many of its designs resemble the ME (eyes) of JYA (snake).

The Crying Child and the Willow Tree: A Mysterious Rainy Day Tale

JYANOME is a type of Japanese umbrella. It was so called because many of its designs resemble the ME (eyes) of JYA (snake).

But then you look over and see a child crying under a willow tree. Is the child crying because there is no umbrella? Or is it because their mother is not there to pick them up? So he lends the child his umbrella. He calls out “kimi kimi” and “sashitamae” in the tone of a great gentleman.

There are some different interpretations of this part. Speaking of under the willow tree, it is the usual setting for ghosts in Japan. So, this child could be a ghost who has passed away and is crying because of the loneliness of not being picked up by their mother when it rains. I thought it might be a contrast with the happy “I”. We do not know the true meaning intended by KITAHARA Hakushuu who wrote the lyrics. It may simply have reminded him of the many willow trees planted along the waterways of Yanagawa City, Fukuoka Prefecture, where he grew up.

Yanagawa, Fukuoka Prefecture, famous for its waterways.

Mom’s Scent Creates Comfort! The Wonderful Science of Mother-Child Bonds

Yanagawa, Fukuoka Prefecture, is famous for its waterways.

In 2021, a research team from Reichman University in Israel found that babies may be more receptive to strangers if they smell their mothers. “Amefuri” (rainfall) must have been a very enjoyable time for children to feel their mother’s scent up close and personal.

Babies found to be more likely to accept unfamiliar women when the odor of their mother is present

A team of researchers from the Interdisciplinary Center, in Israel, working with a colleague from Canada, has found that...

medicalxpress.com

100 Best Japanese Songs

The song titled “The Village Blacksmith” was sung until the late Showa era, long after the profession of blacksmithing had ceased to be a part of everyday life.

663highland – 投稿者自身による著作物, CC 表示 2.5, リンクによる

The reason for this persistence isn’t entirely clear, but perhaps the song’s lively rhythm was deemed fitting for children’s musical education.

Though the lyrics depict the blacksmith as someone who forges plows and hoes as agricultural tools, originally, the roots of blacksmithing were likely tied to swordsmithing. Japan has traditionally had a culture centered around blades, evident even in the popular anime “Demon Slayer,(Kimetsu no yaiba)” showcasing the pride associated with crafting the katana and wakizashi, swords worn at the waist of the samurai, the highest social class during the Sengoku period.

With the end of the samurai era and further declines due to mechanization, the demand for plows and hoes as agricultural tools drastically decreased. However, a few blacksmiths still remain scattered throughout Japan, supporting local farmers to this day. Moreover, the “art of blade-making” has also been an integral part of supporting Japanese culinary culture.