春はあけぼの。やうやうしろくなり行く、山ぎはすこしあかりて、むらさきだちたる雲のほそくたなびきたる。
夏はよる。月の頃はさらなり。やみもなほ、ほたるの多く飛びちがひたる。また、ただひとつふたつなど、ほのかにうちひかりて行くもをかし。雨など降るもをかし。
秋は夕暮ゆふぐれ。夕日のさして山のはいとちかうなりたるに、からすのねどころへ行くとて、みつよつ、ふたつみつなどとびいそぐさへあはれなり。まいて雁かりなどのつらねたるが、いとちひさくみゆるはいとをかし。日入りはてて、風の音むしのねなど、はたいふべきにあらず。
冬はつとめて。雪の降りたるはいふべきにもあらず。霜しものいとしろきも、またさらでもいと寒きに、火などいそぎおこして、炭すみもてわたるもいとつきずきし。晝ひるになりて、ぬるくゆるびもていけば、火桶ひをけの火もしろきが灰がちになりてわろし。
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In spring, the dawn — when the slowly paling mountain rim is tinged with red, and wisps of faintly crimson-purple cloud float in the sky.
In summer, the night — moonlit nights, of course, but also at the dark of the moon, it’s beautiful when fireflies are dancing everywhere in a mazy flight. And it’s delightful too to see just one or two fly through the darkness, glowing softly. Rain falling on a summer night is also lovely.
In autumn, the evening — the blazing sun has sunk very close to the mountain rim, and now even the crows, in threes and fours or twos and threes, hurrying to their roost, are a moving sight. Still more enchanting is the sight of a string of wild geese in the distant sky, very tiny. And oh how inexpressible, when the sun has sunk, to hear in the growing darkness the wind, and the song of autumn insects.
In winter, the early morning — if snow is falling, of course, it’s unutterably delightful, but it’s perfect too if there’s a pure white frost, or even just when it’s very cold, and they hasten to build up the fires in the braziers and carry in fresh charcoal. But it’s unpleasant, as the day draws on and the air grows warmer, how the brazier fire dies down to white ash.
Translated by Meredith Mckinney
参照：http://www.kyotojournal.org/the-journal/in-translation/on-translating-a-classic/
24sekki-72kou.japan 