The little fox calls “konkon”

in the mountains, in the mountains.

It makes itself up with crushed herbs

and embellishes its hair with a maple leaf

     and a hair comb made of boxwood.

The little fox calls “konkon”

in the wintery mountains, the wintery mountains.

It cannot saw a Kimono out of withered leaves,

and there are no flowers for the Kimono’s pattern,

     either.

The little fox calls “konkon”,

in its den, in its den.

Because its bushy tail is in its way,

it turns its head and thinks.