1
ON “EARLY SPRING,” FROM THREE POEMS COMPOSED AT THE POETRY BUREAU
In fair Yoshino
the wind low
on the mountain slopes
grows more chilly still;
and half-hidden
in the haze—
fine flakes of falling snow.
miyoshino no / yama no shitakaze / nao saete
kasumigakure ni / awayuki zo furu
2
“PLUM BLOSSOMS BEFORE THE MOON”
Leaving unclosed
my door
of black pine,
I go
to bed for the night,
pillowed on an arm
awash
in plum scent—and light
maki no to o / sasade nuru yo no / tamakura ni
ume ga ka nagara / tsuki zo utsureru
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 690, an anonymous poem: Will you come to me / or I to you? I wonder / with the hesitant moon, / and leave unclosed my pine door / to keep watch from my bed (kimi ya komu / ware ya yukamu no / isayoi ni / maki no itado mo / sasazu nenikeri).
3
[ON “WILLOWS”] FROM AMONG THREE POEMS COMPOSED AT THE HOME OF THE NIJŌ LAY-MONK MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMEYO]
All atangle
in the wind,
but then slowly
after its passing
disentangling on their own—
threads
on the green willows.
fukimidasu / kaze no ato yori / yagate mata
kokoro to tokuru / aoyagi no ito
4
“RETURNING GEESE”
Even in
a world
full of false promises
they will not
forget
their pledge
to come back home—
those geese now flying away.*
itsuwari no / aru yo ni dani mo / furusato no
chigiri wasurezu / kari no yukuran
*Wild geese fly back to the continent each spring, after spending the winter in Japan.
5
“RETURNING GEESE, IN THE HAZE”
Gazing far, I see
haze spreading
into the distance;
but in the gaps,
appearing here
and then there—
wild geese
in one tattered line.
nagamureba / kasumihatete wa / taedae ni
mata arawaruru / kari no hitotsura
6
“BLOSSOMS AT NIGHT”
On a night in spring
the moon
has not emerged yet
above the branches—
where
on the mountain rim
blossoms are first
haru no yo no / tsuki wa konoma o / ideyarade
mazu yama no ha no / hana zo mieyuku
*An allusive variation on Shin gosenshū 323, by Kamo no Ujihisa: On the mountain rim / not yet emerging is the moon / so much awaited; / first to rise into the clear / is the call of a stag (yama no ha ni / mataruru tsuki wa / ideyarade / mazu suminoboru / saoshika no koe).
7
ON “BLOSSOMS AT DAWN,” FROM THREE POEMS COMMISSIONED BY THE UTSUNOMIYA TŌTOMI LAY-MONK RENCHI
It was the dawn
moon
I had been waiting up for—
when in its light
appeared
the first glimpses
of cherry blossoms
on the hills.
machiizuru / ariake no tsuki no / kagenagara
arawaresomuru / yamazakura kana
8
“BLOSSOMS AT AN ANCIENT CAPITAL”
If those many springs
there had been
no blossoms there
to attract men’s eyes,
then how much more
a ruin
would be
haru o hete / hana ni hitome no / nokorazu wa
shiga no furusato / nao ya arenan
*Shiga, located near the southern tip of Lake Biwa, had been the site of the capital in the seventh century.
9
ON “THINKING OF BLOSSOMS AT NIGHT,” COMPOSED WHEN THE CHAMBERLAIN-MIDDLE COUNSELOR [TAMEAKIRA] INVITED PEOPLE FROM THE POETRY BUREAU TO GO SEE THE BLOSSOMS
On into the night
it comes
right along with me:
that same image
—seen until
the sun went down—
of blossoms
in the branches.
yoru wa nao / waga mi ni zo sou / kururu made
kozue ni mitsuru / hana no omokage
10
FROM TEN POEMS ON THE “BLOSSOMS OF THE EASTERN HILLS”
Here in my cottage
I forget
my loneliness,
thanks to the blossoms—
only to find myself waiting
for someone
sabishisa wa / hana ni wasururu / yado naredo
miseba ya to nomi / hito zo mataruru
*An echo of Shin chokusenshū 1049, by Minamoto no Mitsuyuki: Beneath the trees / I forget my forlorn state, / thanks to the blossoms—/ though after spring is over / no consolation remains (mi no usa o / hana ni wasururu / ko no moto wa / haru yori nochi no / nagusame zo naki).
11
ON “BREAKING OFF A BRANCH,” FROM A TEN-POEM CONTEST AT THE HOME OF THE MINAMOTO MAJOR COUNSELOR [CHIKAFUSA]
If only words
had the power
to describe
the cherry blossoms—
then one would need
no broken branch
to tell people
koto no ha mo / oyobu bakari no / iro naraba
orade ya hana o / hito ni kataran
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 55, by Sosei (written on seeing cherry blossoms in the mountains): Just looking at them / how can one tell anyone / about the cherry blossoms? / Let us each break off a sprig / to take home as a gift! (mite nomi ya / hito ni kataramu / sakurabana / tegoto ni orite / iezuto ni semu).
12
“FALLEN BLOSSOMS IN THE RIVER,” COMPOSED AT THE HOME OF MINAMOTO NO MUNEUJI
Yoshino River:
where on the peaks
cherry blossoms
must now be falling—
to make on unfrozen
waters
a layer
of white snow.
yoshinokawa / takane no sakura / chirinu rashi
kōranu mizu ni / tsumoru shirayuki
13
“FALLING BLOSSOMS”
Not at all
like snow,
so ready to melt away—
these cherry blossoms:
fallen but then
lifted again
by storm winds
in the garden.
kiegate no / yuki to mo miezu / sakurabana
tsumoreba harau / niwa no arashi ni
14
SENT TO DHARMA SIGN KEIUN ON A RAINY DAY AFTER HE HAD BEEN TO SEE THE BLOSSOMS AT THE SHŌREN’IN
Yes, it was the rain
that sent
the cherry blossoms
into their decline,
but on the ground
in the garden
they pile up
as snow.
ame ni koso / shiorehatsu tomo / sakurabana
niwa wa yuki to ya / furitsumoruran
15
WRITTEN AS A BLOSSOM POEM AT THE HOME OF TO SHIZANE, GOVERNOR GENERAL OF DAZAIFU
None
seemed to be left
among the green leaves,
I thought—
but then from among
the branches,
a trickle still
of descending
cherry blossoms.
nokoru to mo / mienu aoba no / kozue yori
ima mo taedae / chiru sakura kana
16
ON “CUCKOO IN THE NIGHT,” FROM A FIVE-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE MINISTER OF POPULAR AFFAIRS [TAMEFUJI]
In the depths of night,
I wonder, “Could it
really be—
a cuckoo’s call?”
—heard from far back in the hills
for the first time
this year.
sayo fukete / sore ka to bakari / hototogisu
miyamanagara no / hatsune zo kiku
17
“CUCKOO AT LAKESIDE”
we row out and stop
to listen—
to a cuckoo
calling now,
in the distance,
off at the mountain’s base.
niho no umi ni / kogiidete kikeba / hototogisu
yamamoto tōku / ima zo naku naru
*An epithet for Lake Biwa.
18
“RICE SPROUTS,” FROM A SEVENTY-POEM SEQUENCE COMPOSED AT THE HOME OF THE TŌJI’IN POSTHUMOUS MINISTER OF THE LEFT [TAKAUJI]
The rain
clears away
and the evening sun
shines down—
on paddy workers
who rest now
from pulling sprouts
to dry skirts
drenched in the fields.
ame harete / yūhi sasu nari / sanae toru
tago no mosuso ya / nurete hosuran
19
“ORANGE BLOSSOMS AT A HUT IN THE NIGHT”
Nearby my bed,
flowering orange
fills
the night
with its scent—
until both dream
and reality
neya chikaku / hanatachibana no / niou yo wa
yume mo utsutsu mo / mukashi narikeri
*An allusion to Kokinshū 139, an anonymous poem: Catching the scent / of orange trees that wait to bloom / until the Fifth Month, / I recall from long ago / the scented sleeves of one now gone (satsuki matsu / hanatachibana no / ka o kageba / mukashi no hito no / sode no ka zo suru).
20
FROM A SOLO HUNDRED-VERSE SEQUENCE
After fretting so
over how little time
remained
before break of day
one resents
even the emergence
of the moon
on a summer night.
akeyasuki / nagori o kanete / omou ni wa
izuru mo oshiki / natsu no yo no tsuki
21
“THE COOL OF A SUMMER EVENING,” FROM A POEM CONTEST HELD BY SAISHŌ TENJI
Even the voices
of cicadas
are silenced;
after close of day,
still there
in the branches
is the wind—
blowing, ah, so cool.
naku semi no / koe mo kikoezu / kurehatete
kozue ni nokoru / kaze zo suzushiki
22
“DEW ON THE FIELDS,” COMPOSED AT THE HOME OF NAGAHIDE, GOVERNOR OF HYŌGO
Blown every which way:
dewdrops
forming
but to scatter,
white jewels
glistening
all across the Yoko Moors
in the first wind
of autumn.
fukinikeri / okeba katsu chiru / shiratsuyu no
tama no yokono no / aki no hatsukaze
23
ON “LINGERING HEAT,” FOR A TEN-POEM SEQUENCE [AT THE HOUSE OF THE MIKOHIDARI MAJOR COUNSELOR]
Autumn has come,
yet still I must use
a fan
to stir the air.
This year
the season will begin
with dewfall
first of all.
aki kite mo / ōgi no kaze o / narasu kana
kotoshi wa tsuyu ya / saki ni okuran
24
ON “BUSH CLOVER,” WRITTEN FOR A THOUSAND-VERSE SEQUENCE
Nowadays
not a friend
whose heart
goes back to the past
is left in the world.
But on a branch
grown old like me—
blossoms on autumn bush clover.*
ima wa yo ni / moto no kokoro no / tomo mo nashi
oite furue no / akihagi no hana
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 219, by Ōshikōchi no Mitsune (written after he chatted with someone he had known long before, when they met out in the autumn fields): Seeing these blossoms / upon the aging branches / of autumn bush clover, / I know that those old feelings / have not yet been forgotten (akihagi no / furue ni sakeru / hana mireba / moto no kokoro wa / wasurezariheri).
25
FROM A SOLO HUNDRED-VERSE SEQUENCE
Making known
the boundlessness
of the sky—
the peak of Fuji,
where above the smoke
appear
the bright rays
of the moon.
kagiri naki / sora mo shirarete / fuji no ne no
kemuri no ue ni / izuru tsukikage
26
ON “THE MOON BETWEEN BAMBOOS,” FROM A FIFTY-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE SHŌGO’IN PRINCE OF THE SECOND RANK [KAKUJO]
Down through
fine branches
spills the light of the moon,
casting the shadows
of bamboo leaves
on the window
even in the dark
of midnight.
saeda yori / tsuki wa morikite / take no ha no
kage sae mado ni / utsuru yowa kana
27
ON “THE LATE AUTUMN MOON,” WHEN HE COMPOSED POEMS AT THE COTTAGE OF KENKŌ
Through gaps in the clouds
that drop showers
as they pass,
moonlight
spills down—
fading quickly
into the dark
of the dusky autumn sky.
shigure suru / kumo no taema o / moru tsuki no
hayaku mo kururu / aki no sora kana
28
ON “NIGHT SHOWERS,” WRITTEN AT THE HOME OF YORIYASU, MASTER OF THE PALACE TABLE OFFICE
Even the showers
fall,
then stop,
then fall again
in brief bursts of sound—
as I lie awake
in the night,
worried
by the world’s restless ways.
shigure sae / furimi furazumi / oto sunari
sadamenaki yo o / omou nezame ni
29
“ROOFTOP SHOWERS”
On a winter
night
gaps
in my bedchamber eaves
show no hint of dawn;
over and over again
the showers come
fuyu no yo no / neya no itama wa / akeyarade
ikudo to naku / furu shigure kana
*An allusive variation on Senzaishū 766, by Shun’e: All through the night / I am so lost in longing / that even the gaps / in my bedchamber eaves, I hate / for showing no hint of dawn (yomosugara / mono omou koro wa / akeyaranu / neya no hima sae / tsurenakarikeri).
30
“FALLEN LEAVES ON A PATH”
Under evergreens
I walk
along a pathway
now gone to sight
beneath autumn leaves
strewn there
by winter’s mountain winds.
tokiwagi no / kage fumu michi mo / mienu made
momiji fukishiku / fuyu no yamakaze
31
FOR A SCREEN AT KANGAKU’IN DEPICTING WINTER AT YASUKAWA
At Moru Mountain
there must be
no leaves left
even low on the trees—
so muted
is the sound
moruyama no / shitaba nokorazu / narinu rashi
yasunokawanami / oto musebu nari
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 260, by Ki no Tsurayuki: At Moru Mountain / white dewdrops and constant showers / have trickled down so / that even the lowest leaves / are dyed now in autumn hues (shiratsuyu mo / shigure mo itaku / moruyama wa/ shitaba nokorazu / irozukinikeri).
32
“WINTER MOON”
The moon remains,
its shining
now unobscured
by leaves on the trees—
gone
in a storm
that has left
nothing
tsuki zo nao / konoha kumorade / nokorikeru
aki no katami wa / tomenu arashi ni
*An allusive variation on Shin kokinshū 593, by Gishūmon’in no Tango: After the rough winds / of a storm have passed and gone, / above the high peak / appears the moon, unobscured / by leaves on the trees (fukiharau / arashi no nochi no / takane yori / konoha kumorade / tsuki ya izuramu).
33
“WINTER MOON,” FOR THREE POEMS COMPOSED AT THE MONTHLY POETRY MEETING OF DHARMA SIGN JŌBEN
As the hour grows late,
the sound
of the storm
in the sky
rings out,
cold and clear;
in gaps between the clouds—
frozen rays
of moonlight.
fukeyukeba / sora ni arashi no / oto saete
kumoma ni kōru / tsuki no kage kana
34
ON “WATER BIRDS,” FROM THREE POEMS COMMISSIONED BY THE OGURA CONSULTANT-MIDDLE CAPTAIN [SANENA]
The shallows along shore
must by now
be frozen over:
for out in the pools
of the mountain river—
the calls
of frolicking
water birds.
asaki se wa / kōri ya suran / yamakawa no
fuchi ni zo sawagu / mizutori no koe
35
WRITTEN WHEN SOME WATERFOWL RAISED BY CHILDREN WERE RELEASED INTO THE WATERS OF HIROSAWA POND [“BROAD POND”]
Accustomed by now
to life
in the rocky narrows
of a garden stream,
broad, indeed,
to the ducks
must seem
the waters of Broad Pond.
yarimizu no / sebaki iwama ni / suminarete
sazo hirosawa no / ike no oshidori
36
“HAIL ON DWARF BAMBOO,” FROM A POEM CONTEST AT KONRENJI
Enough
to brush off
the evening dew
on the leaves
of the dwarf bamboo
set astir
by its clatter—
just that much hail
comes down.
oto sayagu / ozasa ga ue no / yūshimo o
harau bakari ni / furu arare kana
37
“HAIL AT AN OLD HOUSE,” AT THE HOME OF THE FORMER TŌ MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMEYO]
So frost-withered
is the Secret Grass*that grows
out beneath the eaves
that it cannot even
conceal
the sound
of falling hail.
nokiba naru / shinobu no kusa wa / shimogarete
oto mo kakurezu / furu arare kana
*Shinobugusa, a variety of fern. The verb shinobu means “to yearn for in secret.”
38
ON “SNOW ON CEDARS,” FROM FIFTY POEMS AT SHŌGO’IN
Has the new day dawned?
to rise into view;
from snow
on the mountain peak,
a cloud goes
breaking away.
akenuru ka / sugi no muradachi / miesomete
onoe no yuki ni / kumo zo wakaruru
*Sugi, technically cryptomeria.
39
“SNOW ON A BARRIER ROAD”
At Meeting Hill
people coming,
people going,
leave marks
clear to see:
yet still
too hard to follow
for this morning’s
ausaka ya / yuku mo kaeru mo / ato miete
sekiji tadoranu / kesa no shirayuki
*An allusive variation on Gosenshū 1089, by Semimaru: Here it is: the gate / where people coming and going / must part company, / where both friends and strangers meet—/ on the slopes of Meeting Hill (kore ya kono / yuku mo kaeru mo / wakarete wa / shiru mo shiranu mo / ausaka no seki).
40
“SNOW ON THE BAY”
Even the pathways
of fisherfolk
working along shore
are covered over;
and on boats
plying the bay—
white snow piling up.
amabito no / isobe no michi mo / uzumorete
ura kogu fune ni / tsumoru shirayuki
41
“SNOW DEEP IN THE MOUNTAINS,” WRITTEN AT THE HOME OF THE NIJŌ MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMEYO]
Pile up, then, snow
falling
on the mountain peak
where I have come
to escape
the cruel world—
block all paths
to my return!
tsumore tada / irinishi yama no / mine no yuki
ukiyo ni kaeru / michi mo naki made
42
FOR A HUNDRED-POEM SEQUENCE ON THE “FOUR SEASONS,” AT THE HOME OF THE MIKOHIDARI LAY-MONK MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMESADA]
As swiftly
as clouds
traveling the mountain crests
on the winds
of a storm—
so swiftly
do I follow
the one
who has swept me away.
arashi fuku / yama no onoe o / yuku kumo no
hayaku mo hito o / kakete koitsutsu
43
ON “LOVE, RELATED TO ‘CLOUD,’” FROM FIVE POEMS COMPOSED FOR THE MONTHLY POETRY MEETING OF NAGAHIDE
High on the peak
of cloud-capped
Mount Fuji
and no more
easy to hide
is the burning
in my heart.
kumo kakaru / fuji no takane ni / tatsu kemuri
kakurehatsu beki / mi no omoi ka wa
*Mount Fuji was an active volcano as late as the early eighteenth century.
44
ON “LOVE KEPT SECRET FOR A LONG TIME,” FROM A TEN-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE FORMER TŌ MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMEYO]
Through so many years
did I suffer
the agony
of keeping our secret—
that even now
I cannot bear
to let the truth be known.
toshi o hete / shinobishi kata no / kurushisa o
omou ni sae zo / morashikanenuru
45
ON “LOVE, UNABLE TO MEET,” WHEN THE MINISTER OF POPULAR AFFAIRS [TAMEFUJI] HAD A POETRY MEETING AT SŌRINJI
The heart
of someone
who refuses to respond—
what
to compare it to?
The rocks and the trees
after all,
do not bear a man
tsuremonaki / kokoro o nani ni / tatoemashi
iwaki wa hito o / itoi ya wa suru
*An allusive variation on Senzaishū 758, by Kamo no Masahira: So hard it is / for me to get to meet her / that almost I think / the heart of she who spurns me / must be a rock or a tree (au koto no / kaku katakereba / tsuremonaki / hito no kokoro ya / iwaki naruramu).
46
“LOVING IN SECRET, UNABLE TO MEET”
My very life
I would give
in pursuit
of the one I love.
Why then
do I begrudge
the ruin
of my good name?
koishinamu / inochi o dani mo / nagekanu ni
ukina bakari o / nani oshimuran
47
“LOVE, RELATED TO ‘SMOKE,’” FROM A HUNDRED-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE MINISTER OF POPULAR AFFAIRS [TAMEFUJI]
Though I die
for love
I will not
bewail my fate—
if only in turn
she will think fondly
of me
as one gone to smoke
koishinan / mi o ba nagekaji / ware yue no
keburi ni nashite / aware to mo miba
*An echo of Senzaishū 774, by Fujiwara no Sanekuni (sent to a woman): Should I die for love, / please at least remember / that it was for you. /—even if that cruel heart of yours / is still cold toward me now (koishinaba / ware yue to dani / omoiideyo / sakoso wa tsuraki / kokoro nari tomo).
48
ON “LOVE—GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO,” FROM A FIVE-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE MINISTER OF POPULAR AFFAIRS [TAMEFUJI]
Those no longer
at a distance
from each other
suffer all the more,
when every slight,
every pain—
not a thing remains
hidden.
utokaranu / naka zo itodo / kurushikere
uki mo tsuraki mo / kakure nakereba
49
“UNREQUITED LOVE,” FOR A FIVE-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF SHŌGO’IN [KAKUJO]
Should I die of love,
even then
I would continue
to feel rejected—
knowing how halfheartedly
she would say,
“Ah, what a shame.”
koishinan / nochi sae tsurashi / naozari ni
aware to iwamu / hito no kokoro wa
50
ON “LOVE ON A MOONLIT NIGHT,” FROM A TEN-POEM SEQUENCE COMPOSED AT THE HOME OF THE TŌ MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMEYO]
Such a waste of time!
Gazing up
at the moon
night after night,
thinking
she too will see it—
and feel the same
hakanashi ya / tsuki miru hodo no / yoru yoru ni
kayou kokoro o / tanomu bakari wa
*An allusive variation on Shūishū 787, by Minamoto no Saneakira (sent to a woman on a night when the moon was shining bright): Perhaps in your heart / you do not feel for me / the love I feel for you; / but the moon on this night—/ Surely you must see it, too? (koishisa wa / onaji kokoro ni / arazu tomo / koyoi no tsuki o / mizarame ya).
51
“LOVE IN THE MIST,” FROM TEN POEMS COMPOSED AT THE HOME OF THE MINISTER OF POPULAR AFFAIRS [TAMEFUJI]
I gaze out,
but still
the sky is empty
of all
but the autumn mist—
as aimless
as my passion,
nagamete mo / munashiki sora no / akigiri ni
itodo omoi no / yuku kata mo nashi
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 488, an anonymous poem: The love I feel / seems to fill the very void / of the empty sky. / For the thoughts I send out / have no where else to go (waga koi wa / munashiki sora ni / michinu rashi / omoiyaredomo / yuku kata mo nashi).
52
ON “LOVE IN WINTER,” FROM WHEN WE COMPOSED POEMS AT THE HOUSE OF DHARMA SIGN JŌBEN
My tears
of longing
must share something in common
with the sky above:
for off there
in the distance
a cloud, too,
omoiyaru / namida ya sora ni / taguuran
sonata no kumo mo / shigurete zo yuku
*An allusive variation on Shin kokinshū 1107, by Fujiwara no Shunzei (sent to a woman on a rainy day): Overwrought with love, / I gazed out upon the sky / above where you dwell—/ and saw the haze parted there / by a shower of spring rain (omou amari / sonata no sora o / nagamureba / kasumi o wakete / harusame zo furu).
53
ON “WAITING FOR LOVE ON AN AUTUMN EVENING,” FOR A FIFTEEN-POEM SEQUENCE ON THE NIGHT OF THE FIFTEENTH DAY OF THE EIGHTH MONTH, AT THE HOME OF THE MINISTER OF POPULAR AFFAIRS [TAMEFUJI]
The sun
in autumn
swiftly gives way
to darkness,
but to no avail—
at least not for one
who waits
a man
who will not hurry.
aki no hi no / hodo naku kururu / kai mo nashi
hito no isoganu / naka no chigiri wa
54
ON “WAITING FOR LOVE IN SECRET,” WRITTEN FOR A FIVE-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE MIKOHIDARI MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMESADA]
Wait a moment
there
on the rim
of the mountain,
you moon at midnight!
If you come out now,
I will be
bereft
yama no ha ni / shibashi matareyo / yowa no tsuki
idenaba iwamu / koto no ha mo nashi
*An allusive variation on Shūishū 782, by Hitomaro (topic unknown): That I was waiting / for the moon to emerge / from foot-wearying hills—/ that’s what I told people, / while really I waited for you (ashihiki no / yama yori izuru / tsuki matsu to / hito ni wa iite / kimi o koso mate).
55
“LOVE, RELATED TO ‘RAIN’”
To expect him
to be undeterred
by rain—
that would be too much;
but, ah, to be certain,
at least,
of the breaks
between showers!
furu ame ni / sawaranu made wa / kataku to mo
harema o tanomu / chigiri to mogana
56
ON “WAITING FOR LOVE, NIGHT AFTER NIGHT,” FOR A FIVE-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE MIKOHIDARI MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMESADA]
A single night,
that is all
one needs to know
it was a lie;
what am I hoping for,
then,
to persevere
in waiting?
hitoyo ni mo / uki itsuwari wa / shiraruru ni
nani no tanomi ni / taete matsuran
57
“LOVE—WAITING BENEATH THE SKY”
Forlorn, I wait
’til this night too
ends with dawn.
How could I have thought
that the sound
of a cockcrow
pains
only those who must part?
machiwabite / koyoi mo akenu / tori no ne no
uki o wakare to / nani omoiken
58
[“LOVE”] FROM A HUNDRED-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE MINISTER OF POPULAR AFFAIRS [TAMEFUJI]
Though it drifts
my way,
can I really be so sure?
A cloud blown
by winds
as it travels
through the sky
is in the end a fickle thing.
nabiku tomo / e ya wa tanomamu / fuku kaze ni
sora yuku kumo no / utsuriyasusa o
59
“PARTING,” FROM FIVE POEMS COMPOSED AT THE HOME OF THE DANSHŌ PRINCE
We heard the call—
but still
we put off parting;
until
—before we heard
the cock calling once again—
night have given way
to dawn.
nakinuredo / wakare mo yarade / tori no ne no
kikoenu made ni / akuru yowa kana
60
“PARTING BENEATH THE MOON,” WRITTEN WHEN WE WERE COMPOSING POEMS AT FUDANKŌJI
Will I ever
see it
just this way
again?
On sleeves of white hemp
now parting
from each other—
light
kono mama ni / mata ya mizaran / shirotae no
sode no wakare no / ariake no tsuki
*An allusive variation on Shin kokinshū 1336, by Fujiwara no Teika (from The Minase Fifteen Poem Contest): When we parted / dewdrops fell down on my sleeves / of pure white hemp—/ your coldness as harsh as the hue / of the piercing autumn wind (shirotae no sode no wakare ni / tsuyu ochite / mi ni shimu iro no / akikaze zo fuku). Also probably an echo of Shin kokinshū 114, by Fujiwara no Shunzei (written for a five-poem sequence at the house of the Regent-Chancellor): Will I see this again? / A hunt for cherry blossoms / on Katano Moor—/ petals of snow scattering / in the first faint light of dawn (mata ya mimu / katano no mino no / sakuragari / hana no yuki chiru / haru no akebono).
61
“LOVE—THE MORNING AFTER,” WRITTEN AT THE HOME OF THE LAY-MONK FORMER CHANCELLOR [KINKATA]
When we parted,
he promised
nothing—not even
“Wait ’til this evening.”
Yet as soon
as I fall asleep
I see him
in my dreams.
kure o dani / mate to mo hito wa / chigiranedo
yagate matane no / yume ni miru kana
62
“LOVE, RELATED TO ‘MOON’”
His receding
image
is all that remains
to me,
clear in my mind—
as the moon
behind teardrops
is unblurred
not a single night.
wasuraruru / omokage bakari / sadaka nite
tsuki wa namida ni / haruru yo mo nashi
63
ON “LOVE, RELATED TO ‘MOON,’” FOR A TEN-POEM SEQUENCE ON THE MOON FOR THE AKAI PRINCE
So feckless a hope—
that the moon
crossing the sky
would be enough
to keep us
in the same world—
held together
ada nari ya / sora yuku tsuki o / katami nite
nao onaji yo to / tanomu bakari wa
*An allusive variation on Shūishū 470, an anonymous poem (when Tachibana no Tadamoto was secretly visiting a certain man’s daughter, he was transferred to a distant place and sent this to her): Don’t forget me—/ though I go as far away / as the clouds above. / Not ’til the moon crossing the sky / comes around this way again (wasuru na yo / hodo wa kumoi ni / narinu to mo / sora yuku tsuki no / meguriau made). The poem also appears in section 11 of Ise monogatari.
64
ON “MEETING AGAIN, AFTER LOVE HAD ENDED,” WRITTEN WHEN POEMS WERE BEING COMPOSED AT SŌRINJI, UPON A VISIT FROM THE REIZEI MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMEUJI]
It makes no sense!
—to get entangled
again
after so much time!
In the air,
the dangling end
of a broken
spider’s thread.
imasara ni / kuru mo hakanaki / chigiri kana
sora ni taenishi / sasagani no ito
65
“LOVE, RELATED TO ‘FLOWER,’” WRITTEN FOR A POEM CONTEST HELD BY SAISHŌ TENJI
The wilting flower
in the heart
of one whose love
has died and gone
in the end fades
utterly—
utsuriyuku / kokoro no hana no / hate wa mata
iro miyuru made / narinikeru kana
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 797, by Ono no Komachi (topic unknown): What is it that fades / without a change in color? / It is the flower / in the heart of those who love / in this world of ours (iro miede / utsurou mono wa / yo no naka no / hito no kokoro no / hana ni zo arikeru).
66
“DISTANT LOVE,” WRITTEN AT THE HOME OF THE MIKOHIDARI MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMESADA]
If even in dreams
we cannot meet,
then how am I
to send a message?
Here on this Gloomy
Mountain road
yume ni dani / miezu to ikade / tsuge yaran
utsunoyamaji wa / au hito mo nashi
*An allusive variation on Shin kokinshū 904, an anonymous poem (sent back to the capital with someone he met at Utsuyama in Suruga): In Suruga, / around Gloomy Mountain, / neither while awake / nor yet again in my dreams / do I meet a soul (suruga naru / utsu no yamabe no / utsutsu ni mo / yume ni mo hito ni / awanu narikeri). The poem also appears in section 9 of Ise monogatari.
67
“THE END OF LOVE,” WRITTEN AT THE HOME OF THE MINAMOTO MIDDLE COUNSELOR [TOMOYUKI]
The years
passed by
and I had thought that
at last
I could rest secure.
Why now,
then,
after all this time,
does he seem to drift away?
toshi mo henu / sasuga ima wa to / tanomaruru
nochi shi mo hito no / tōzakaruran
68
“DAWN LOVE,” WRITTEN WHEN FUJIWARA MOTOTŌ WAS COMPOSING POEMS FOR THE NEW HIE SHRINE
As the sky brightens,
in gaps
between the clouds—stars,
shining faintly through,
as few in number
as visits
from the one
who pledged his love.
akewataru / kumoma no hoshi no / sanomi nado
mare ni nariyuku / chigiri naruran
69
FROM A SOLO HUNDRED-POEM SEQUENCE
But surely, no—
you cannot
have forgotten!
Was it someone else
who long ago
vowed his love
with promises,
night after night?
sasuga yomo / wasureji mono o / inishie mo
hito ya wa iishi / yoyo no kanegoto
70
ON “LOVE CONCEALED AFTER A PLEDGE,” FROM A FIVE-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE CAPTAIN OF THE LEFT GUARDS [TADAYOSHI]
We pledged our love,
but all
to no avail—
since I do not know
where
in those far, cloudy hills
the pheasant has flown.
chigirishi mo / kai koso nakere / kumo no iru
tōyamadori no / yukue shiraneba
71
“LOVE AT AN END”
Now, at last,
I know:
that when
I waited to see him
night after night,
beneath it all
already
in his heart
he had changed.
ima zo shiru / machimishi koro no / yona yona mo
shita ni wa kawaru / kokoro narikeri
72
“BROKEN PLEDGE OF LOVE”
Nothing comes
from him,
not so much as a note
asking,
“Do you remember
the pledge of love
we made?”—
so distant has he become.
chigirishi wa / omoiizu ya to / tou hodo no
tayori dani naku / tōzakaritsutsu
73
“LOVE AT AN END”
The pledge
we exchanged
in a dream-world
long ago
has never changed;
what turned out
to be fickle
is the world
of reality.
mukashi ni mo / kawaranu yume no / chigiri kana
hakanaki mono wa / utsutsu narikeri
74
AT NACHI WATERFALL IN KUMANO
So high is the peak
that the waterfall
descends
from out of the clouds—
making a shower of rain
that clears
never for a day.
yama fukami / kumo yori otsuru / takitsuse no
atari no ame wa / haruru hi mo nashi
75
WRITTEN IN THE AUTUMN, WHEN HE FIRST MOVED TO HIS COTTAGE AT NINNAJI
I took up
life here
in this village in the hills
in the moon
season;
and before long
my heart, too,
had decided it would stay.*
yamazato ni / tsuki no koro shimo / sumisomete
yagate kokoro no / tomarinuru kana
*An allusive variation on Goshūishū 345, by Fujiwara no Kanefusa (describing a scene on a standing screen in which someone was standing next to a carriage, looking at the autumn leaves): It’s still a long way / until we reach our home / back in the mountains; / yet my heart wants to stay / here amid the autumn leaves (furusato wa / mada tōkeredomo / momijiba no / iro ni kokoro no / tomarinuru kana).
76
ON “MOUNTAIN HOME,” FOR A TEN-POEM CONTEST AT KONRENJI
The loneliness
of life
here in my lodging
I had expected;
but, ah,
how I tire of hearing
the wind in the pines
sabishisa wa / omoishi mama no / yado nagara
nao kikiwaburu / noki no matsukaze
*The word “pine” (J. matsu) is a homophone for the word “wait.” The speaker thus complains that the sound of the wind in the pines makes him realize that he is really waiting for someone to visit.
77
“PINES AT A MOUNTAIN COTTAGE,” WRITTEN AT THE HOME OF THE MIKOHIDARI LAY-MONK MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMESADA]
This hut of mine
is so far
from the capital
that no one visits;
yet still
the wind blows
in vain
through the pine trees
waga io wa / miyako o tōmi / hito mo kode
itazura ni fuku / noki no matsukaze
*An allusive variation on Man’yōshū 51, by Shiki no Miko (written after the capital had been transferred from Asuka Palace to Fujiwara Palace): Winds of Asuka / that flutter the long sleeves / of the court maidens / are so far from the capital / that they blow here in vain (uneme no / sode fukikaesu / asukakaze / miyako o tōmi / itazura ni fuku).
78
WRITTEN AT HIS NINNAJI COTTAGE
A sad thing it is
to hear it
in company
with the world’s woes—
a storm
in the mountains
so near
yo no usa o / soete kiku koso / kanashikere
miyako ni chikaki / yama no arashi ni
*Probably a reference to battles fought around the capital in association with the rebellion of Emperor Go-Daigo or subsequent friction between the Northern and Southern Courts.
79
“LAMENT,” FROM POEMS WRITTEN FOR DHARMA EYE KEN’YO
Had there been
no place
in the mountain shadows
for me to flee to—
what would there be
to console me
amid the world
nogarekite / sumu yamakage no / nakariseba
nani o ukiyo no / nagusame ni sen
*An allusion to Fūgashū 609, by Senshi Naishinnō (written on a night when the moon was full): And were it not / for the bright autumn moon / shining in my heart, / what would there be to console me / amid the world and its woes? (kokoro sumu / aki no tsuki dani / nakariseba / nani o ukiyo no / nagusame ni semu).
80
ON “MOUNTAIN HOME,” WRITTEN AT THE HOME OF THE MIKOHIDARI MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMESADA]
In my mountain home
where alone
I bear the pain
of loneliness—
the years go
passing by,
and no one
sabishisa ni / taete sumu mi no / yamazato wa
toshi furu mama ni / tou hito mo nashi
*An allusive variation on Shin kokinshū 627, by Saigyō (topic unknown): Ah, such loneliness—/ if there were only someone / to bear it with me. / Side by side we’d put our huts / for winter in a mountain village (sabishisa ni / taetaru hito no / mata mo are na / iori narabemu / fuyu no yamazato).
81
“LAMENT,” FROM A HUNDRED-POEM SEQUENCE WRITTEN IN THE ŌCHŌ ERA [1311]
To prattle on,
complaining
about the woes
of one’s situation—
that is to betray
the heart
that cast the world
aside.
to ni kaku ni / ukimi o nao no / nageku koso
suteshi ni tagau / kokoro narikere
82
“LAMENT, RELATED TO ‘OLD TREE,’” WRITTEN WHEN PEOPLE WERE DRAWING FOR TOPICS*
What shall I do
for protection
from the blows
of these harsh winds?
Now the old oaks
in the groves
are completely dead and gone.†
araki kaze / fusegu tayori o / ikaga sen
oiki no hahaso / kuchihatenu ma ni
*Dai o saguru, an informal competition in which poems were composed extemporaneously on topics chosen at random.
†The first two syllables of the word for “oaks,” hahaso, are homophones with the word for “mother.” An allusion to a Chinese poem: “The trees would be still, but the winds never stop; children would be nurtured, but their parents can’t stay.” Also probably an echo of a famous poem in Genji monogatari in which the mother of Kiritsubo expresses her worries for Genji, whom after his mother’s death she compares to bush clover exposed to harsh winds (Genji monogatari, volume 12 of Shin nihon koten bungaku zenshū [Tokyo: Shoggakan, 1970], p. 110; Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji, trans. Edward Seidensticker [New York: Knopf, 1976], p. 11).
83
“LAMENT NEAR DAWN”
The awful sadness
of all
that has happened to me
until this moment—
awake,
as my night grows late,
that’s when it comes to mind.
omoikoshi / mi no aramashi no / kanashisa mo
waga yo fukeyuku / nezame ni zo shiru
84
ON THE IDEA OF “TEARS OF GRIEF,” WRITTEN AT KONRENJI
So old am I now
that I myself
don’t even know
all of the reasons
that the tears
come falling down,
drenching
the sleeves of my robe.
oinureba / nani yue otsuru / namida to mo
ware sae shirade / nururu sode kana
85
“LAMENT, RELATED TO ‘WORLD,’” WRITTEN AT THE HOME OF THE MIKOHIDARI MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMESADA]
Ah, the past, we think—
but what
we look back upon
was the same world
of woe—
remembered fondly,
perhaps,
because we hadn’t yet
grown old.
mukashi tote / onaji ukiyo o / shinobu kana
toshi no oinu o / omoide ni shite
86
“REMINISCING,” FROM POEMS COMPOSED WHEN SHŌJŌ CAME TO VISIT
Less substantial
than a dream
were the months and years
that passed me by.
How is it that
all together
they add up
to make me old?
yume yori mo / hakanaku sugishi / toshitsuki no
ikade ka oi no / kazu to naruran
87
“REMINISCING”
If all that had passed
we could
never remember—
what would help us,
then,
for even a moment
to forget
the troubles of old age?
koshikata o / omoiidezu wa / shibashi dani
nani ni ka oi no / uki o wasuremu
88
ON “TRAVEL,” FOR A ONE-DAY THOUSAND-VERSE SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE MINISTER OF POPULAR AFFAIRS [TAMEFUJI]
If one gave no thought
to the day
one would return
to one’s native home,
then there would be
no reason
to make haste
along the way.
furusato ni / kaerikon hi o / omowazu wa
tabiyuku michi o / isogazaramashi
89
ON “TRAVELER’S LAMENT,” FROM A FIVE-POEM SEQUENCE REQUESTED BY JAKU’E
So be it, then!
I will not bemoan
the world’s woes—
for as I push on
through fields,
or mountains,
everywhere
I find people
just living.
yo no naka o / yoshi ya nagekaji / wakeyukeba
no ni mo yama ni mo / hito wa sumikeri
90
GREETING THE DEATH ANNIVERSARY OF SOMEONE WHO HAD PASSED AWAY ON THE FIFTEENTH DAY OF THE EIGHTH MONTH
What can one say
about
the lengthy partings
in this world of men?
The geese
that left in the haze
at least now
hito no yo no / nagaki wakare o / ikaga sen
kasumite inishi / kari wa kinikeri
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 210, an anonymous poem: The wild geese that left, / fading away into the haze / spreading in springtime / now are calling out again / above the mists of autumn (harugasumi / kasumite inishi / karigane wa / ima zo naku naru / akigiri no ue ni). Wild geese fly back to the continent each spring, after spending the winter in Japan.
91
WHEN HE VISITED HIS MOTHER’S GRAVE ON A DAY OF FALLING SNOW
To think of her
down there,
underneath the moss—
that was sad enough.
And now she is
deeper still,
buried here
omoiyaru / koke no shita dani / kanashiki ni
fukaku mo yuki no / nao uzumu kana
*An echo of Shin kokinshū 796, by Fujiwara no Shunzei (written in the autumn, after Teika’s mother had passed on and he went to visit her grave, staying that night in a nearby temple): I come so seldom, / and yet how sad in the night / sounds the wind in the pines. / And she, there beneath the moss—/ does she too hear it, endlessly? (mare ni kuru / yowa mo kanashiki / matsukaze o / taezu ya koke no / shita ni kikuram).
92
WRITTEN AFTER THE PASSING OF THE TOJI’IN POSTHUMOUS MINISTER OF THE LEFT [TAKAUJI]
Just what can it be
that makes them cry
so loudly?
But, ah, of course:
cicadas would know
how empty
is this world
ne ni tatete / nageku wa nani zo / utsusemi no
munashiki yo to wa / shiranu mono ka wa
*The shell shed by the cicada was a conventional symbol for ephemerality.
93
WRITTEN WHEN HE FIRST SAW IN THE SHIN SENZAISHŪ THE NAMES OF FUJIWARA MUNEMOTO, MIYOSHI AKIHISA, AND TAMEMUNE, ALL MEN DEDICATED TO THIS WAY WHO HAD PASSED AWAY BEFORE THE COLLECTION HAD BEEN FINISHED
Never
did they know
they had left
their tracks behind—
my friends, the plovers.*
In what bay,
how far away
will they be
living now?
todomeoku / ato o mo shirade / tomochidori
ika naru kata no / ura ni sumuran
*Chidori, a small waterfowl associated with winter scenes whose call was often cast as a beckoning to companions. “Tracks” refers to writings.
94
Deep in the mountains,
I gaze up
at the moon
shining in the clear—
leaves on the trees
abandoned
to the enticing
of the winds.
okuyama ni / nagamuru tsuki wa / harenikeri
konoha o sasou / kaze ni makasete
*J. engaku, a state of enlightenment arrived at independently of a master, symbolized in this poem by the moon shining clear after the speaker stops worrying about the leaves.
95
ON “SPRING RAIN,” WRITTEN AT THE HOUSE OF THE SHOGUN [YOSHIAKIRA]
A faint snowfall,
leaving nothing
on the ground;
then from a clear sky
—barely “falling” at all—
the first rains
of spring.
awayuki no / tsumorade hareshi / sora yori mo
furu to shi mo naki / haru no ame kana
96
ON “BLOSSOMS AT A BARRIER GATE,” WRITTEN WHEN THE DANSHŌ PRINCE VISITED SAIKE’EN, AT A TIME WHEN THE BLOSSOMS WERE IN FULL BLOOM
At Meeting Hill,
the guards
who bar the way
can relax a while—
their task of halting
passersby
left
ausaka no / seki no sekimori / itoma are ya /
hito o todomuru / hana ni makasete
*An allusive variation on Shin kokinshū 67, by Shōmyō (b. 1112) (written on “Seedlings in the Rain,” at the house of Lord Kiyosuke): When the rain comes down, / the men working in the fields / can relax a while—/ their task of flooding seedling beds / left to the sky above (ame fureba / oda no masurao / itoma are ya / nawashiromizu o / sora ni makasete).
97
“BLOSSOMS, IN SOLITUDE,” FOR A HUNDRED-POEM SEQUENCE ON BLOSSOMS AT THE SEIKANJI
What a solace
from the loneliness
of my home
are cherries in full bloom—
bringing those
who never visit
calling at my door.
sabishisa o / nagusamu yado no / hana sakari
higoro oto senu / hito no touran
98
ON “BLOSSOM FRIENDS,” WRITTEN WHEN THE REIZEI CONSULTANT [TAMEHIDE] WAS COMPOSING POEMS AT THE COTTAGE OF REN’A
Friends I used to see
I shunned
in taking up life
in my mountain home—
where the blossoms
every spring
acquaint me again
mukashi mishi / tomo o ba itou / yamazato mo
hana yue hito ni / naruru haru kana
*People come to see the blossoms every spring.
99
ON “REMINISCENCE, RELATED TO ‘BLOSSOMS,’” WRITTEN WHEN THE REGENT [YOSHIMOTO] CAME TO VISIT
I cannot claim
that it does not
trouble my thoughts—
the sight
of blossoms
that so increase
one’s longing
monoomoi / nashi to wa iwaji / hana mireba
itodo mukashi no / koishisa zo masu
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 52, by the Former Chancellor [Fujiwara no Yoshifusa] (804–872) (on seeing an arrangement of blossoms in a vase in the apartments of the Somedono Empress): As the years go by / I just keep growing older—/ that is true, and yet / when I gaze upon blossoms / how untroubled are my thoughts! (toshi fureba / yowai wa oinu / shika wa aredo / hana o shi mireba / monoomoi mo nashi). Also probably an allusion to Shin kokinshū 782, by Fujiwara no Saneyori: On seeing maiden-flowers after the death of Lord Rengi’s mother: My heart as I gaze / upon these maidenflowers / finds no solace—/ so do they increase one’s longing / for autumns of long ago (ominaeshi / miru ni kokoro wa / nagusamade / itodo mukashi no / aki zo koishiki).
100
ON “FALLING BLOSSOMS,” FOR A THREE-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE KAJII PRINCE OF THE SECOND RANK
Not satisfied
with enticements
in the branches,
the storm winds
blow on
over the grounds
of a garden
strewn with fallen
kozue yori / sasou ni akade / sakurabana
chirishiku niwa ni / arashi fuku nari
*An allusion to Shikashū 142, by Minamoto no Sukemichi (d. 1060) (written on “Fallen Leaves,” for a poem contest at his house): Unsatisfied / seeing them on the branches, / I gaze on the leaves / strewn about the garden grounds—/ not yet sweeping them away (kozue nite / akazarishikaba / momijiba no / chirishiku niwa o / harawade zo miru).
101
ON “BLOSSOMS AT AN INN,” FROM AMONG POEMS WRITTEN WHEN THE MIKOHIDARI LAY-MONK MAJOR COUNSELOR [TAMESADA] CAME TO VISIT
This spring,
in moonlight
on a mountain path
I rest
from my travels;
and there,
in the waking world,
I see blossoms
kono haru wa / tsuki ni yamaji no / tabine shite
utsutsu ni hana no / chiru o miru kana
*An echo of Kokinshū 117, by Ki no Tsurayuki (composed when he was staying at a mountain temple): On a spring hillside / I took lodging for the night; / and as I slept / the blossoms kept on falling—/ even in the midst of my dreams (yadori shite / haru no yamabe ni / netaru yo wa / yume no uchi ni mo / hana zo chirikeru).
102
ON “MOUNTAIN AZALEAS,” COMPOSED WHEN THE NIJŌ CONSULTANT [TAMETADA] CAME TO VISIT
On Evergreen Hill
I come upon
a color
not seen
last autumn
here in the mountain groves—
red azaleas,
tokiwayama / aki wa mizarishi / kurenai no
iro ni idenuru / iwatsutsuji kana
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 362, an anonymous poem: Though autumn comes, / there is no change in color / on Evergreen Hill—/ until leaves from elsewhere / are lent by the passing wind (aki kuredo / iro mo kawaranu / tokiwayama / yoso no momiji o / kaze zo kashikeru).
103
“CUCKOO, LATE AT NIGHT,” WRITTEN AT THE HOME OF THE TOJI’IN POSTHUMOUS MINISTER OF THE LEFT [TAKAUJI]
As if to declare,
“Only those
who waited up
may hear my song!”
—the first call of the cuckoo*
comes
just once,
late in the night.
shiite matsu / hito nomi kike to / hototogisu
fukete ya morasu / hatsune naru ran
*The cuckoo, a harbinger of summer, was notoriously parsimonious with his calls.
104
“RICE SPROUTS,” FROM A FIFTY-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE LAY-MONK PRINCE OF THE SECOND RANK
Both far and near
along
riverbank paddies,
the boats pull in—
taking on
rice sprouts
picked
by the villagers of Uji.
ochikochi no / kawazoioda ni / fune yosete
sanae toru nari / uji no satobito
105
“FIREFLIES”
As evening comes on,
they too
begin their slow burn:
low down
in the smoke
fireflies
darting about.
yūgure wa / onore mo moete / kayaribi no
keburi no shita ni / tobu hotaru kana
*Burned to ward off mosquitoes.
106
ON THE LINE “AUTUMN’S VOICE—CARRYING A BURDEN OF RAIN,”* FROM A HUNDRED-POEM SEQUENCE USING LINES FROM OLD COLLECTIONS AS TOPICS
Wind passing over
lotus leaves
out on a pond—
dewdrops cascading;
in autumn,
the cooling sound
of rain coming down.
kaze wataru / ike no hasu no ha / tsuyu ochite
aki ni suzushiki / ame no oto kana
*A line from the Chinese poet Bo Juyi (722–846). See Inada Toshinori, Waka shitennō no Kenkyū (Tokyo: Kasama Shoin, 1999), p. 869.
107
ON “SUMMER COOL,” FROM A THREE-POEM SEQUENCE COMPOSED AT THE HOUSE OF THE NAKAZONO LAY-MONK CHANCELLOR [KINKATA]
More than anywhere
it is here
that one feels the cool
of the passing winds—
where the sun cannot break through
beneath the trees
in the garden.
izuku yori / suzushiki kaze no / kayouran
hikage wa moranu / niwa no kokage ni
108
FROM A FIFTY-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE LAY-MONK PRINCE OF THE SECOND RANK
In my old home town,
no one comes
to visit.
—the leaves
on the reeds
left alone
to make replies
to the tidings
furusato wa / tou hito mo nashi / ogi no ha no
kaze ni kotauru / oto bakari shite
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 205, an anonymous poem: As the crickets cry / in my mountain village / in the growing dusk, / no one comes to visit—/ except for the passing wind (higurashi no / naku yamazato no / yūgure wa / kaze yori hoka ni / tou hito mo nashi).
109
ON “BLOSSOMS ON GRASSES IN A TRANQUIL GARDEN,” WRITTEN WHEN PEOPLE WERE COMPOSING POEMS AT THE GRAVE OF THE POSTHUMOUS THIRD RANK AT KYŌGOKU, ON THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF HER DEATH
And if not
for those
who come to visit
the grave
at her former home—
how overgrown, then,
would be
this clump
furusato ni / ato tou hito no / kayowazu wa /
hitomura susuki / nao ya shigeran
*An allusive variation on Kokinshū 853, by Miharu Arisuke (after the death of Fujiwara no Toshimoto, no one was living in the chambers he had occupied as Middle Captain of the Right Guards; looking in on the place late at night on the way back from an event, he saw that the front garden was abandoned and overgrown and, thinking of the past when he had served there, he composed this): That clump of pampas / that you planted long ago / has spread to become / a field thick with cricket calls / and ever encroaching grasses (kimi ga ueshi / hitomura susuki / mushi no ne no / shigeki nobe to mo / narinikeru kana).
110
“HEARING A DEER BEFORE THE MOON,” FROM A THREE-POEM SEQUENCE FOR THE DANSHŌ PRINCE
Late into the night
I wait for one
who doesn’t come,
when in the moonlight
comes the sound
of a deer calling—
also longing
for his mate?
konu hito no / mataruru yowa no / tsukikage ni
sazo tsuma koi no / shika mo nakuran
111
“MOONLIGHT SHINING IN BLOSSOMS ON THE GRASSES,” FROM A THREE-POEM SEQUENCE AT THE HOME OF THE SHOGUN [YOSHIAKIRA]
The failing red hue
of dewdrops
on bush clover
fades further into white—
jewels
buffed to a high sheen
by the light of the moon.
murasaki ni / utsurou hagi no / tsuyu no iro o
mata shiratama to / migaku tsuki kana
112
“MIST ABOVE A RIVER,” FROM A FIFTEEN-POEM SEQUENCE OF THE FORMER REGENT
Winds out on the river
cast over
the cresting waves
a sheet of morning mist—
and floating above,
down river
comes a firewood barge
kawakaze no / nami ni fukishiku / asagiri ni
ukite zo kudaru / uji no shibafune
*An allusive variation on Shin kokinshū 169, by Jakuren (presented as part of a fifty-poem sequence): Toward what harbor / spring goes when it fades away / one cannot know—/ a barge of firewood falling / into River Uji’s haze (kurete yuku / haru no minato wa / shiranedomo / kasumi ni otsuru / uji no shibabune).
113
“THE BEGINNING OF WINTER”
Mountains
all around
are as they were
yesterday,
in autumn colors;
then, as if to say,
“Stay no more!”
come the withering
winds.
yama wa mina / kinō no mama no / aki no iro o
nokosaji to fuku / kogarashi no kaze
114
ON “COLD GRASSES,” FROM A THREE-POEM VOTIVE SEQUENCE OFFERED TO KITANO SHRINE BY THE FORMER REGENT
In the frost-withered
pampas grass
of Mano Moor
the wind turns
chill—
leaving only
the memory
of autumn
shimogare no / mano no kayahara / kaze saete
omokage ni nomi / nokoru aki kana
*An allusive variation on Gosenshū 132, by Ōshikōchi no Mitsune (on seeing cherry blossoms scattering): The time went by / and suddenly the blossoms / had scattered and gone—/ leaving only the memory / of their colors in my mind (itsu no ma ni / chirihatenuran / sakurabana / omokage ni nomi / iro o misetsutsu).
115
“FROST ON A BRIDGE,” WRITTEN WHEN PEOPLE WERE CHOOSING TOPICS AT THE HOME OF THE REGENT [YOSHIMOTO]
This morning
still
there are no footprints
from people
coming and going;
as frosted now
as in the night
are the planks of Just-So Bridge.
kesa wa mada / hito no yukiki no / ato mo nashi
yo no ma no shimo no / mama no tsugibashi
116
“FROZEN INLET”
Only
from far back
comes the sound
of rowing;
into the ice-bound
inlets
around Mano Bay
not a boat
approaches.
oku ni kogu / oto bakari shite / mano no ura no
kōru irie wa / yoru fune mo nashi
117
“COAL FIRE AT DAWN,” WRITTEN WHEN PEOPLE WERE COMPOSING VOTIVE POEMS FOR KITANO SHRINE
Had I not heard
the tolling
I would not
have known
how cold
was the frosty night
away from
my coal fire.
akatsuki no / kane o kikazu wa / shimo sayuru
yowa to mo shiraji / uzumibi no moto
*The first bell of the day at Buddhist temples, calling monks to prayer.
118
ON “SNOW,” COMPOSED FOR A SINGLE-DAY THOUSAND-VERSE SEQUENCE AT THE HOUSE OF THE MINISTER OF POPULAR AFFAIRS [TAMEFUJI]
In my mountain home—
a snowfall
one wants to save
from trails of footprints.
How could one claim
to welcome
a visitor who comes today?*
yamazato wa / atozukegataku / furu yuki ni
kyō komu hito to / matare yawa suru
*An allusive variation on Shūishū 251, by Taira no Kanemori (topic unknown): In my mountain home, / snow has fallen over all—/ including my path. / One can only pity the plight / of a visitor who comes today (yamazato wa / yuki furitsumite / michi mo nashi / kyō komu hito o / aware to wa mimu).
119
“SNOW AT SHORESIDE”
On Tago Bay
the high peak
of Mount Fuji
appears
in shadow form:
waves and all
becoming one
with the white
tago no ura ya / fuji no takane no / kage miete
nami mo hitotsu ni / fureru shirayuki
*An echo of Man’yōshū 318, by Yamabe no Akahito: At Tago Bay / I came out, and looked afar—/ to see the pure white / of Mount Fuji’s lofty peak, / amid a flurry of snow (tago no ura yu / uchiidete mireba / mashiro ni zo / fuji no takane ni / yuki wa furikeru).
120
“SNOW AT SHORESIDE”
A winter so cold
that the snow is
piling up
at harborside—
where
left by the bank to rot
is a cast-off
fishing boat.
fuyu samumi / yuki zo furitsumu / minatoe ni
kuchite nokoreru / ama no sutebune
121
FROM A FIFTY-POEM SEQUENCE FOR THE LAY-MONK PRINCE OF THE SECOND RANK
“When the snow falls
in the garden,”
he said to me—
but he doesn’t come;
so busy a time
it is
at the end
niwa no yuki ni / furaba to iishi / hito wa kode
isogu mo shiruki / toshi no kure kana
*An allusive variation on a poem by Jien from the Kenpō yonen hyakushu (also Shin shūishū 654): “When first snow falls / in the garden,” he said to me—/ but he doesn’t come; / to no purpose, then, the clouds clear / from the evening sky (hatsuyuki no / furaba to iishi / hito wa kode / munashiku haruru / yūgure no sora).
122
“YEAR’S END,” WRITTEN AT THE HOUSE OF UNKEN
No surprise will I feel—
but think of him
as some old man
I don’t even know.
Even if the year
does end
for the face
odorokade / shiranu okina ni / nashihaten
kagami no kage wa / toshi kurenu to mo
*An allusive variation on Shūishū 565, an anonymous sedōka: There in the mirror / I come face to face with someone / who stares back at me, / feeling as if / I am meeting an old man / that I do not even know (masukagami / soko naru kage ni / mukaiite miru / toki ni koso / shiranu okina ni / au kokochi sure).
123
“SECRET LOVE”
And if she should ask,
“Look how drenched through
they are—
the sleeves of your robe!
What is it
that has made them so?”
how am I to reply?
kaku bakari / nani yue nururu / tamoto zo to
kimi shi mo towaba / ikaga kotaen
124
ON “LOVE, RELATED TO ‘CLOUD,’” COMPOSED WHEN FUJIWARA MOTOYO CAME TO COMPOSE POEMS
In a mountain’s shade,
below
winds
that dissipate
a storm’s white clouds—
what has not yet
cleared away
is the darkness
of my thoughts.
yamakage ni / kaze no fukishiku / shirakumo no
shita ni harenu wa / omoi narikeri
125
“ONE-SIDED LOVE,” COMPOSED AT THE HOUSE OF THE SHOGUN [YOSHIAKIRA]
I will not
call it
merely his cruelty—
but just regard it
as the sad plight
of one
with no pledge
tsurashi to mo / hito o ba iwade / saki no yo ni
chigiri naki mi no / uki ni nasu kana
*An allusive variation on Kin’yōshū 438, by Saki no Chūgu no Kazusa: Not realizing / that it must be a bond carried / from a former life, / how quickly I dismissed it / as the cruelty of his heart (saki no yo no / chigiri o shirade / hakanaku mo / hito o tsurashi to / omoikeru kana).
126
“CLOSE LOVE,” COMPOSED WHEN THE REIZEI CONSULTANT [TAMEHIDE] WAS COMPOSING POEMS AT SAIKE’EN
A couple in turmoil
is an image
reflected
back from a mirror:
there you appear
face to face
but nothing passes
between.
uki naka wa / kagami ni utsuru / kage nare ya miyu to wa suredo / koto mo kayowazu
127
“WAITING FOR LOVE”
Ah, the futility
of putting trust
in pledges
that turn out to be lies!
And less reason
is there to wait
on an evening
never promised.
itsuwari o / tanomu dani koso / hakanaki ni
chigiranu kure no / nani mataruran
128
“LOVE, NO MORE SECRET”
“Never let it out!”
was his vow to me
back then,
but what will happen now?
For with all that
in his heart
still his feelings
have changed.
morasu na to / chigirishi sue mo / ika naran
sanagara kawaru / hito no kokoro ni
129
“MEETING AGAIN AFTER SEPARATING”
A bridge
of wood planks
that in the past
had collapsed
may lead to
danger
for those who try to
go on
and cross over it
again.
todae seshi / maki no tsugibashi / tsugite nao
watasu ni tsukete / sue zo ayauki
130
“MOUNTAIN HOME”
Once, I was sure
that I would find
the loneliness
more than I could bear.
Until,
by getting used to it,
I got used to
taete yo mo / araji to omoishi / sabishisa mo
narureba naruru / yama no oku kana
*An echo of Sankashū 937, a famous poem by Saigyō (topic unknown): I have given up / all hope of having visitors / in my mountain home. / If not for solitude, / how dismal my life would be! (tou hito mo / omoitaetaru / yamazato no / sabishisa naku wa / sumiukaramashi).
131
ON “MOUNTAIN HOME,” COMPOSED WHEN THE OGURA CONSULTANT-MIDDLE CAPTAIN [SANENA] CAME TO VISIT
When guests from Miyako
take their leave,
then even more
than before
they came
will my home in the mountains
be a place
of loneliness.
miyakobito / kaeraba nao ya / yamazato wa
towarenu yori mo / sabishikaramashi
132
“LIVING IN TRANQUILITY,” COMPOSED WHEN THE REIZEI CONSULTANT [TAMEHIDE] CAME TO VISIT
I need
seek out
no house
of retirement.
Wherever one lives
in the days
of one’s old age
will be a place
of solitude.
kakurega mo / ima wa tazuneji / izuku ni mo
oite sumu koso / shizuka narikere
133
ON “DAY’S END ON THE WATER”
Daylight is fading—
let’s find mooring
for our boat!
Off there
where the light
of fishing fires is glowing
must be the homes
of fishermen.
kurenikeri / fune ya tomemashi / isaribi no
kage miru kata wa / ama zo sumuran
134
“REMINISCING AT DAWN,” COMPOSED AT THE HOME OF THE FORMER REGENT
With never a thought
for how close I am
to the end,
why is it
that the past
is all
I can think about—
an old man,
awake in the night?
yukusue no / chikaki o shirade / mukashi nomi
nado shinobaruru / oi no nezame wa
LINKED VERSE COUPLETS
135
Yesterday, and then today
the snow just keeps on falling.
In pools, in rapids,
the waters have frozen over—
making not a sound.
kinō mo kyō mo / yuki zo nao furu;
fuchi mo se mo / kōreba mizu no / oto taete
136
Thinking to read letters,
I end up sleepless, all night.
Not in a dream,
I find myself meeting again
those of long ago.
fumi o yomu tote / yoru mo nerarezu;
yume narade / mukashi no hito ni / ainikeri
137
High up, there in mid-sky—
the moon on an autumn night.
Nobody visits
and I go to see no one—
night growing long.
nakazora ni naru / aki no yo no tsuki;
hito mo kozu / waga mi mo towade / fukenikeri
138
Not two, not three—but one
alone is the Buddha’s Law.
On shore we wait
for the boat to row back
futatsu mo mitsu mo / naki minori kana;
kogikaeru / hodo o ya matamu / watashibune
*“Rowing to the far shore” was a common metaphor for achieving enlightenment or rebirth in the Pure Land.
139
How long shall we gaze upon
the blossoms and the moon?
Morning glories abloom
on a wattled fence, dew laden
hana to tsuki to mo / itsu made ka mimu;
asagao no / kakiho no tsuyu no / akebono ni
*The second verse answers the question of the first in two ways: first, by providing a concrete setting for the scene—dew on flowers, sparkling in the moonlight at dawn—and, second, by suggesting that such beauties do not last long.
140
Completely frozen over and yet—still the waves rise.
Moonlight resting
on the tips of pampas plumes
kōredomo nao / nami wa tachikeri;
tsuki yadoru / obana ga sue no / aki no tsuyu
*In the link, the “waves” become the pampas fronds, swaying under a burden of moonlit dew.
141
Even those beyond feeling are not without friends.
In mountain streams
water flows over the shadows
kokoro naki ni mo / tomo wa arikeri;
yamamizu ya / iwaki no kage o / nagaruran
*The friends “beyond feeling”—in other words, not human—are the rocks and trees, whose shadows act as companions, side by side.
142
It passes over the mountains—
then the wind is heard no more.
When the waterfall
in the end becomes a pond—
yama suginureba / kaze mo kikoezu;
takikawa mo / ike ni narite wa / oto mo nashi
*A Buddhist allegory, suggesting the transmutability of all things. Just as the wind fades off into empty sky, so does the spray of a waterfall become the standing water of a pond.
143
In the south and in the north,
the snow has kept on falling.
So cold the sound
—in the morning, in the evening—
minami mo kita mo / yuki wa furikeri;
oto samuki / ashita yūbe no / tanikaze ni
*Here the “opposites” of morning and evening complement the south and the north, with the valley wind serving as the transporting agent of the snow.
144
In the night, the snow itself provides us with our light.
‘Til break of day the moon still remains—
yuki koso yoru no / hikari narikere;
akuru made / tsuki wa nokoredo / kage mo nashi
*Here it is the faint dawn moonlight on the snow that creates light in the darkness.
145
Still in the fickle world,
I find myself lingering on.
Every single morning
blooms appear on morning glories,
ada naru yo ni mo / nagaraenikeri;
asagoto ni / saku asagao no / hi kazuete
*The morning glory is a conventional symbol for ephemerality, suggesting that even those who “linger on” will not do so for long.
146
One leaves, and then the mountains of Miyako remain no more.
Out on the boatway
it is from the sea that the moon
yukeba miyako no / yama mo nokorazu;
funaji ni wa / umi yori izuru / tsuki o mite
*Here the link takes the first verse as a riddle: How is it that the mountains of the capital disappear, when all roads out of the city lead through the mountains? The answer is that the mountains disappear into the night, especially so when one leaves not by land but by sea.
147
Withered by frost,
a little skiff parts the reeds,
rowing away.
Between waves, the new day breaks
on the snow of distant hills.
shimogare no / ashiwakeobune / kogiidete;
namima ni akuru / yuki no tōyama
148
If only for a moment, where can I hide myself away?
When the cherries bloom,
there is no mountain recess
shibashi izuku ni / mi o kakusamashi;
hanazakari / towarenu yama no / oku mo nashi
*Here the link provides a speaker for the first verse—a mountain recluse who cannot escape company while the cherry trees are in bloom.
149
In unison with the flute—
the plucking of koto strings.
Grass cutters return from work in the evening
fue ni awasete / koto ya hikuran;
kusakari no / kaeru yūbe no / matsu no kaze
*In the link, the flute is played by one of the grass cutters on his way home, with the sound of the zither coming on the wind in the pines.
150
In far-off mountains,
from a peak a bell rings—
ever so faintly.
In haze, a new day breaks
yama tōki / onoe no kane wa / kasuka nite;
kasumite akuru / sugi no muradachi
*The link here provides a concrete setting for the images of the first verse—the temple located now in a cedar grow, the bell announcing dawn ringing faintly through spring haze.