MT. FUJI BETWEEN THE WAVES OFF THE COAST OF KANAGAWA:
(One of Thirty-Six Views by Hokusai)

That morning, Master, we hastened to the beach at dawn. It was very cold.
In winter, there is much sickness , so few of us are able to go forth.
Only three boats went out that day. Hunger however knows
nothing of these matters and the fish do not take note of the
fishermen. The air was so cold it cut like ice in the wash-bucket.
Each man who owned a quilted coat made haste to put it on.
Beyond the Holy Mountain the sky was dark grey; over the sea
it was pale as cold ash. The sea itself was inky black and oily,
and smooth.

We launched our longboats, eight men at oars and the captain on the
foredeck. For six hours we cast our nets. Never in all my days–
and I am the oldest man in out village–have I seen such a run of
fish! Nets were filled to breaking. Then the wind began to blow
from the North; the sea began to speak in a new voice. Captains
called back and forth between the boats, Should we turn back?
They could not agree.

The Holy Mountain watches us , lifting her white brow above a cloak
of blue. One boat turns back and makes for shore. Waves cover it
from our sight; we do not see it again. The sky is a shining
mirror, the wind speaks in a hundred tongues. Great claws of foam
reach out from the peak of each wave. Our boats carve through the
enormous swells. Leaning over the oars, we labor like ants that
try to move a leaf through tall grass. We groan like women in
childbirth. The steersmen cry out as each wave approaches. Their
cries are lost in the howl of the seas.

A giant wave appears from the West. It reaches for us with a
thousand arms, a thousand hands, a thousand mouths. The sea
roars with hunger. Gobbets of foam as big as summer hailstones
pelt down on our backs. Our lungs are breaking. The nets wash
overboard.

Only for a moment did I stop to wipe the foam and salt from my eyes.
In the distance, beneath the sky patterned rose and pale-grey
like the kimono of a maiden, I beheld Mt. Fuji, small as the
little hill where the children go for firewood.

Master Hokusai, this is what I remember. I have told you all.