A small chorus of frogs is the whole occasion. Their song, as the speaker hears it, seems to form two simple instructions: “Let day pass, / Let night break.” Those words read like a chant or a gentle command, as if the frogs are guiding the world from daylight into dark and back again. Because they sing both morning and evening, their call becomes a way of keeping time—not anxiously, but calmly, almost tenderly. The poem doesn’t build to a dramatic point; it just lets that repeated song settle in. The mood is quiet and a little playful, full of attention to a very ordinary sound. There is no human struggle in the lines, only the sense of someone listening closely enough to find language inside noise. The result is peaceful: day and night are not things to resist, only to let come and let go.
Hokku 20 — Summary
"Let day pass, "Let night break," — So the frogs sing morning and eve.