 On the castle tower in the spring, a cherry blossom viewing feast, exchanging cups of sake, the moon dancing in each, branches of pine trees shooting out, they've grown a thousand years. Where have the glorious old days gone? On the battlefield campsite in the autumn, a cold layer of frost, wild keys honking in flight. You can count them in the clear moonlight. The pine trees like swords stuck in the ground, the cold moonlight makes them shine. Where have the glorious old days gone? Over the ruined castle at midnight, the bright moon shining as ever it shined. For whom does the moon shine so bright? Only vines on the castle wall climbing up. Can you hear anything but the wind as it blows? In the sky, past and present, the everlasting moon rising and falling. The ever-changing world is the moonlight telling us how the world goes. Ah, the midnight moon over the ruined castle.