The late master Tameyo said: “Shunzei’s style is that of mystery and depth,1 which is most difficult to achieve; Teika’s style is that of profound meaning,2 which is difficult to master. Hence it is the style of Lay-Monk Minister of Popular Affairs [Tameie] that you should learn.” This is a profound insight.
According to the late master Tameyo, Tameie said this: “My late father’s poems were superb, of course, but if descendants who know nothing about poetry put them into anthologies indiscriminately, there are many bad poems among them. My own poems are stupid by comparison, but even if descendants who know nothing about poetry should put them in anthologies, I have taken care not to leave behind any poems that are all that bad.”
The late master Tameyo said: “Nijō Norisada, Commander of the Left Guards, was a disciple of the Way who, on top of that, married into the family—as father-in-law to Tameuji—and became an intimate. Once during the chatting after a banquet, he declared how moved he was by poem by Teika, and how much it had impressed him:
In the moonlight
of the dawn moon of the Long Month,
rain showers come down—
a bitter prospect for the leaves
whose hues will change tomorrow.3
nagatsuki no / tsuki no ariake no / shigure yue
asu no momiji no / iro mo urameshi
At this Tameie put down the saké cup he had been holding, anger showing in his face. “What could possibly be of interest in such a poem?” he said.
“I didn’t mean to go that far,” Norisada said. “I was just saying what I felt.”
“You shouldn’t be so quick to say something so offensive. True, Teika did put the poem in his Hundred-Poem Contest,4 but the style of the thing is simply inappropriate.5 Certainly it is not a poem that would be included in an imperial anthology,” Tameie responded, most sternly. “I simply can’t comprehend why you would praise such a poem,” he is reported to have said.6
“It’s inconceivable to me how the poem got put into Gyokuyōshū,”7 the late master said. (A personal note: This poem is not in Gyokuyōshū.)8
Minister of Popular Affairs [Tamefuji] said: “You should get comments on your poems, as a way to avoid public embarrassment.” On the topic “Willows Along the Road,” Teika composed this poem for a poetry gathering at the imperial palace:
Along the pathway,
the willow trees in the fields
are ablaze in green—
in sympathy with a heart
smoldering in envy?
michinobe no / nohara no yanagi / moesomete /
aware omoi no / keburikurabe ya
After Retired Emperor Go-Toba had looked over the poems from the event, he gave an order to the imperial palace prohibiting Teika from attendance at court. After some days, when he was allowed back into service, Teika made a special visit to Courtiers Hall and said, “For the benefit of the Way, one must feel that a command of this sort is most welcome.” The masters of the past thought likewise—a lesson that we in later ages should learn well.9
Tamefuji said: “Retired Emperor Go-Toba once tossed one of the Teika’s poems aside because he didn’t understand it, yet later looked at it again and was very impressed, declaring it a work of deep meaning.”10 We should keep this in mind, and when looking at the poems of the masters of the past do so with special care.
Tamefuji said: “In a letter written to Reverend Jichin, Teika said, ‘Saigyō hails me as Japan’s number-one poet, but compared with my late father I’m not even a tenth as good.’”
Tamefuji said: “Ietaka was the son-in-law of Jakuren, along with whom he became a poetic disciple of Shunzei. According to Tameie, Shunzei noted of Ietaka, ‘This young man is sure to become a sage in the future. When he comes to see me, he never asks about obscurities but always about the proper feeling one should have in composing poems,’ and was very much impressed.”
According to Saitō Mototō, Tsuchimikado’in Kosaishō said: “Among the poems of Ietaka there is none that is hard to understand. The poem
Up on the slopes
at Takasago, the days
when no stag calls out
have accumulated now—
with white snow on the pines.11
takasago no / onoe no shika no / nakanu hi mo
tsumorihatenuru / matsu no shirayuki
for instance, is thought by some people to be difficult to understand. But it is only difficult if you think too much about it; the sense of the poem is easily comprehended if you just take it straightforwardly.”
Someone said: “When poems for the Shin chokusenshū12 were being selected, the compiler was in a quandary because there were no bright and lively13 poems about plum blossoms. ‘Surely there must be one among the poems of Ietaka,’ he thought, and took a look. He found this poem and put it in:
For how many leagues
do rays of light from the moon
also bear the scent
of mountains of plum blossoms
peaked with the breezes of spring?14
iku sato ka / tsuki no hikari mo / niouramu
mume saku yama no / mine no harukaze
The late master Tameyo told me this: “My late father’s poem
If anyone asks,
I shall say I haven’t seen it—
Tamatsu Isle,
where haze spreads over the inlet
in the dim light of spring dawn.15
hito towaba / mizu to ya iwan / tamatsushima
kasumu irie no / haru no akebono
was written for the Poem Contest of the Kenchō Era. 16 He wrote it on the back of a sheet of recycled paper,17 and then showed it to my grandfather, Tameie. Next to where my father had originally written, ‘I shall say I have seen it—’ Tameie wrote, ‘I shall say I haven’t seen it—.’ Though he didn’t understand exactly why, the author handed the poem in as ‘haven’t seen.’”18
At the time of The Shirakawa-dono Seven Hundred Poem Sequence, the poem strip19 of Shinkan was blown into the stream by the wind on his way to the palace, so he presented it on a towel, in a very unsightly state. One should be prepared for such things.
Hafuribe Yukiuji said: “When I was a young man I met Hafuribe Tadanari (a Shin chokusenshū author).20 Because I was consulting books21 as I composed my poems, he told me, ‘Look to the blue clouds when composing poems.22 If you rely too much on old poems now, you will never become a fine poet.’”
The late master Tameyo said: “Tameie thought of Lord Nobuzane as a poet without peer. At the time he was compiling Shoku gosenshū,23 he wanted to put one of Nobuzane’s poems as the very first in the collection, so he wrote him a message asking him to present ten poems on ‘The Beginning of Spring.’ Nobuzane asked, ‘What might the purpose of this request be?’ and didn’t present any poems—a marvelous show of humility.
“Once Nobuzane composed a set of one hundred poems, which he asked Tameie to mark.24 Among these was, ‘in valley after valley / around Mount Hatsuse…’ which he sent back with the comment ‘Just like a mountain monk’ written next to it. The evening of that same day, Nobuzane came calling at Chū’in.25 Tameie received him, and said, ‘Just what was the purpose of your visit?’
“‘I have come because I was intrigued by your comment that my poem, “in valley after valley / around Mount Hatsuse,” was just like a mountain monk,’ was the reply.”
What an elegant display of connoisseurship!
Lord Nobuzane had three daughters. They were all fine poets. Sōhekimon’in Shōshō was particularly outstanding. In his old age, Teika was moved so deeply by her poem
There in his own voice
is the suffering that comes
when lovers must part—
yet he doesn’t seem to know,
that rooster calling out.26
ono ga ne ni / tsuraki wakare no / ari to dani
omoi mo shirade / tori ya nakuramu
that he wrote her out a copy of Kokinshū27 and sent it to her, with a postface inscribed, “To Shōshō, Sage Mother of the Nation, a true Adept of the Way. Copied out without concern for the failing powers of these old eyes.”
Shōshō no Naishi was the one who died first, leaving the other two behind. Sōhekimon’in Shōshō took the tonsure in old age and lived at the old site of Hosshōji. The daughter of Taira no Chikakiyo came up from the East Country and, because Sōhekimon’in Shōshō was so famous, decided to go and see her at her dwelling at Hosshōji. Shōshō allowed her into the chapel and spoke to her through the sliding door.
“For you to come to my dwelling here in the deep grasses shows determination and admirable dedication to the Way, and I would like to let you see my old countenance; but I fear I am not up to comparison with my poem ‘There is in your own voice / something that makes me feel inadequate…’ so I will demur,” the old woman said. How gentle and refined a response! The daughter of Chikakiyo sent gifts from the hinterlands all the time and communicated by letter.
Ben no Naishi became a nun in old age and went into seclusion at a place called Augi, north of Sakamoto.28 Retired Emperor Kameyama heard she was there and sent her topics for a Tanabata Meeting29 by messenger. On the topic “Tanabata Robes,” she wrote this:
Autumn has come,
yet so narrow are my sleeves
laden with dew
that I have nothing I can lend
to the Tanabata Maiden.30
aki kite mo / tsuyu oku sode no / sebakereba
tanabatazume ni / nani o kasamashi
“How perfect,” he thought, very moved, and corresponded with her frequently thereafter. An old man—a monk called Kōsen—who lived in Augi told this story.
The late master Tameyo said: “Back in the days when Tameie was a captain in the Gate Guards, a Bishop something-or-other was always coming to him with questions about poetry. After hearing that in poetry ‘One should put truth above all else, and be sure that you adhere to logic,’ he came some days later and said, ‘I have written a poem according to your instructions the other day. I wonder if I’ve got it right.’
The peak of Fuji
appears to be everywhere
the exact same shape—
whether from that side over there
or from this side over here.
fuji no yama / onaji sugata no / miyuru kana
anataomote mo / konataomote mo
‘This isn’t what should result from putting logic above all else,’ Tameie said and broke out laughing.”
The late master Tameyo said: “When I went to Tameie in order to receive the teachings on Kokinshū,31 I brought Jō’i along with me, since I was used to using a monk as a scribe. ‘I’m afraid something has come up, today,’ Tameie said, and asked me to come again on a later date. Then privately he asked, ‘Why did you bring someone with you?’ Consequently, I came on a later day by myself and received the teachings.”
The late master Tameyo said: “According to Tameie, ‘You should compose poems like building a bridge, adjusting here and there so that it tilts neither left nor right.32 You shouldn’t just compose any way you like.’ He also said, ‘You should compose in the way you put up a tower. You don’t put up a tower from the top down. In the same way that you build on top of a foundation, you should begin with the bottom half.’”
Lady Imadegawa’in Konoe no Tsubone said: “When the late Major Counselor [Korehira] had his children write poems, Lord Koreyori, Kakudō Shōnin, and Bishop Jitsu’i each composed many poems when still young. When I was in my ninth year, I was trying to compose on the topic, ‘Ice on the Pond.’ I noticed that my brothers were all writing about thin ice, and thinking that it would be boring to do the same thing, I wrote about ‘thick ice, by the pondside.’ Korehira liked this very much and said, ‘This poem on thick ice is better than all the others; surely you will become a fine poet.’ I have lived to greet five imperial anthologies, beginning with Shoku kokinshū,33 and had many poems included in them34—indicating the foresight of my father’s words.”
She also composed Chinese poems, some of which were included in Kensakushū. 35 She kept Buddhist vows and was a Zen nun her entire life, never marrying. I have heard that she had read the Lotus Sutra36 ten thousand times. She did not serve conspicuously at court. At the time of Shoku kokinshū she wore a sweet-flag ensemble37 in the Fifth Month. She went to Imadegawa-In when the latter was empress; it was there she got the name Gon-dainagon and left without even getting out of the carriage.38 Truly, “thick ice along the pondshore” was an outstanding line. She wrote beautiful and unusual things in every poem.
Tamefuji said: “Teika always used to say, ‘When composing uta, you should be as if you were Major Counselor Kanemune, sitting in the Guards’ Chamber39 in formal robes, as if undertaking official business. Don’t compose in the attitude of Sukemasa of the Third Rank, in informal hunting attire, as if about to go out hawking.’ Tameie also used to say to everyone, ‘This is what my late father said.’”40
Tamefuji said: “At the time of the Shin chokusenshū, hopefuls would present their poems, but seldom did they meet Teika’s liking. ‘Maybe it would be better if they sent me their castoffs,’ he declared.’”
Tamefuji said: “When Tameie was young, he was not proficient in the Way. Even though as the heir of his father and grandfather he had connections in the world, he made no progress. Having determined to abandon the lay world, he went to Hie Shrine to bid his leave. Around that same time, he visited Reverend Jichin to tell him of his intentions and say farewell.
“‘How old are you?’ the Reverend asked him.
“‘Twenty-five,’ Tameie replied.
“Then Jichin said, ‘You are not yet at the age when things have become clear. You should put your decision off, and make it only after really accumulating experience in practice.’
“Following this advice, Tameie gave up his plan to leave the world and composed a thousand poems in five days. After finishing, he showed them to his father, who looked at the ten poems on ‘The Beginning of Spring’ and said, ‘Well, if you can produce poems on “The Beginning of Spring” as good as these, then things look good.’ After looking at all the poems, he told him to show them to Ietaka. In time, Tameie became Master of the Way and further improved on the heritage of his fathers—all thanks to Reverend Jichin.”
In the Tokudaiji41 there is a room called the Poetry Room.42 It is in the western corner of the shinden. 43 This is where the Go-Tokudaiji Minister of the Left Sanesada met Saigyō.
The Ichijō Dharma Sign [Jō’i] said: “At the time of The Six-Hundred Round Poem Contest of the Captain of the Left,44 members of the teams of the left and the right would go daily to make judgments, with each side writing its judgments down. Some days, there were those who didn’t come, but Jakuren and Kenshō came every day, always arguing. Kenshō was a monk and wielded a vajra thunderbolt; Jakuren fought like a cobra lance.45 It was the women of the palace who gave them these names.”
Rokujō Arifusa said: “At the time of Retired Emperor Go-Toba, there were Persimmon and Chestnut factions.46 The Persimmon faction favored ordinary poems, which were called ‘poems of heart,’ while the Chestnut faction favored madcap poems, called ‘poems without heart.’47 In the Persimmon group were the Go-Kyōgoku Lord, Reverend Jichin, and others who were among the finest poets of that time. In the Chestnut group were Lord Mitsuchika, Lord Muneyuki, Dharma Eye Taikaku, and so on. At the Poetry Offices in Minase, the Chestnut Chambers were on the other side of the courtyard. In the courtyard was a large pine tree. One delightful day when the wind was blowing, Revered Jichin wrote this poem and sent it to the poets of the ‘no heart’ faction:
Those who have a heart
and those without any heart—
is there between them
a difference in what they hear
from the wind in the garden pine?48
kokoro aru to / kokoro naki to ga / naka ni mata
ika ni kike to ya / niwa no matsukaze
“Lord Muneyuki wrote this in reply:
Your lordship declares
that we haven’t any heart—
but one needs only ears
to listen to the wind blowing
in the pine by the eaves.49
kokoro nashi to / hito wa notamaedo / mimi shi areba
kikisaburau zo / noki no matsukaze
“‘Rather witty, that “one needs only ears,” ’ the Retired Emperor declared, and had a good laugh. The Elder of the Minase Shrine (Shiichi Shōnin) told this story, which he said came from Minase of the Third Rank. The pine by the eaves of the Poetry Bureau was deeply favored by the Retired Emperor. Much later, he sent this poem, which he commanded to be tacked to the tree:
In days long ago,
there were blossoms that longed
for their master.
But, alas, not this pine tree—
which gives no one a thought.50
inishie wa / hana zo aruji o / shitaikeru
matsu wa hito o mo / omowazarikeri
“After this poem was composed, the pine soon withered and died, so the story goes.”
Tamefuji said: “Among Lord Ietaka’s poems for the Poetry Contest on a Distant Isle 51 was this one:
Will I see this again?
Or will I not see it again?
White jewels of dew
decorating the blossoms
of bush clover in autumn.52
mata ya min / mata ya mizaran / shiratsuyu no
tama okishikeru / akihagi no hana
“Tameie said of this poem, ‘Perhaps not inferior to Shunzei’s
Will I see this again?
A hunt for cherry blossoms
on Katano Moor—
petals of snow scattering
in the first light of dawn.53
mata ya mimu / katano no mino no / sakuragari
hana no yuki chiru / haru no akebono
“‘—although one might say that “Will I see this again?” makes “Or will I not see it again?” somewhat superfluous.’”
Tamefuji said: “When his father, Hidemune, died at the time of Shin kokinshū,54 a poem on the topic ‘Reminiscing, with Wind as an Image,’ by Hidetō55 was included. His older brother Hideyasu was envious, saying, ‘If it meant gaining an honor such as that, I wouldn’t begrudge having my head lopped off.’”
Tamefuji said: “Lord Tomoie was not as talented as his father, Akiie. Although he was rather untried in the Way, Teika took special interest in him. As he had not even received the teachings of his own house from his father, Teika taught him this and that and then praised him in one poem contest after another, saying that he was one of great ability. He was also favored with a number of poems in Shin chokusenshū. 56 Until well into his old age, Tomoie remained a disciple of our house, but after Teika’s death his heart turned against us, and among the poems of his contribution to The Hundred-Poem Sequences of the Hōji Era57 he wrote many not in keeping with the style of the house. Truly an ingrate.”58
The Akai Prince said this: “The poem on ‘The Moon Deep in the Mountains’ by Tomoie,
In the depths of night,
I muse on about the past
of Mount Takano—
the light of dawn still far away
here in the clear light of the moon.59
mukashi omou / takano no yama no / fukaki yo ni
akatsuki tōku / sumeru tsukikaga
“impressed the Emperor Juntoku very much, who pronounced that he must give Tomoie something as a reward. Since there was nothing else suitable about at the moment, he gave him ten tablets of fine paper. After receiving them, Tomoie hurried off to Sumiyoshi Shrine and presented the paper there as an offering to be used for prayer strips.60 Everyone was very moved, so the story goes.”
The late master Tameyo said: “Tameie said, ‘When I am going to someone’s house for a poetry gathering, I prepare one or two linked verse hokku,61 on the usual fushimono—person, tree, boat, and so on.62 Sometimes at the end of a gathering, suddenly someone says, “Let’s do some linked verse,” and you don’t want to keep people waiting while you are coming up with a first verse.’”
The late master Tameyo said: “Once Tameie was going from Saga to his Reizei house, with Tamenori riding on the back of his carriage. Tamenori was criticizing the linked verse of his older brother, Tameuji. Tameie didn’t say anything in reply, until he happened to see a dung wagon on the road and composed this verse:
A skinny old ox
harnessed to a wagon
yaseushi ni / koeguruma o zo / kaketekeru
“Tamenori squirmed around, but couldn’t come up with a link. When they were about to get down at Reizei, Tameie said. ‘You couldn’t handle it, could you? Had it been your elder brother, he would have been able to come up with something.’”
Retired Emperor Go-Saga held a linked verse gathering at the Yoshida springs. Shōshō no Naishi was summoned and attended the emperor inside the blinds. Tameie, serving as messenger64 for the lady, was under the eaves outside the blinds. Distracted by the sound of the waterfall in his ears, he couldn’t hear well, and so couldn’t get very interested in the renga. Lesser Captain Tamenori got some shrubbery from the mountain and put it under the waterfall so that you couldn’t hear the water any more. Thereafter, everyone got into the renga, it is written in Ben no Naishi’s journal.65
The Taira Middle Counselor, Lord Koresuke said: “Lord Enkō’in said, ‘I have looked into all the various Ways,66 and each is worthwhile, but it is Court Ceremonial67 and the Way of Poetry that never lose their appeal.’ He hadn’t had much to do with it himself, he said, but he believed devoutly in the Way of Poetry.”68
Lord Koresuke also said: “In the instructions Retired Emperor Fushimi left to Retired Emperor Go-Fushimi, he says that in the event of another imperial anthology, Go-Fushimi should consult with Eifukumon’in and Fuyuhira. This is something that I specifically remember Go-Shōnen’in Fuyuhira talking about,” he said.
The poems of Retired Emperor Fushimi and Go-Shōnen’in are rather different.69 That in his instructions the Retired Emperor assumes that in the end they would be in agreement is most interesting.
Someone said: “For the Poem Contest of Different Ages,70 Teika was paired with Prince Motoyoshi. ‘This is the first time I ever knew a poet named Prince Motoyoshi existed,’ Teika quipped. Ietaka was paired with Ono no Komachi. It’s understandable that Teika would not have chosen such a companion. However, since Retired Emperor Go-Toba had said many times that Prince Motoyoshi was a superb poet, it cannot have been his intention to pair Teika with an inferior match. Kintō was not included in this poem contest, because he never produced three truly excellent poems, it is said. But how could it be that someone who was looked up to as the sun or the moon throughout the Chōtoku era [995–999]and Kankō eras [1004–1011] didn’t produce three poems superior enough for this contest? Later generations have been dubious.”
The late master Tameyo reportedly said: “When you are going to compose a poem for a public event,71 you should go to Hōrin72 and compose your poem there. Young people also should go there to compose poems. The atmosphere of the place produces particularly good poems.”
Tamefuji said: “Mongaku Shōnin of Takao composed five poems and brought them to Teika. ‘All are most rare in conception, poems that express the essence of Buddhist teachings,’ he recorded. Myōe Shōnin of Togano’o truly stands out among devotees of the Way, which is why so many of his poems were chosen for inclusion at the time of the Shin chokusenshū. 73 He put together a collection called Ishinshū, a compilation of his poems. Mongaku Shōnin’s connoisseurship thus continued on.”
Shingen Shōnin is reported to have said: “Mongaku Shōnin hated Saigyō. The reason was that he believed once a person had taken the tonsure he should concentrate solely on Buddhist devotions and do nothing else: anyone who lived like a dilettante, wandering around mumbling poems, was unworthy as a monk. Mongaku was always saying that he planned to crack Saigyō’s skull if ever he laid eyes on him, no matter where. Mongaku’s disciples lamented, thinking, ‘Saigyō is a famous master; to do anything like that would cause trouble.’
“On a certain occasion, Saigyō went to a Lotus Service at Takao, and was composing poems while wandering around beneath the flowering cherry trees. Mongaku’s disciples tried to keep this from their master. But after he had returned to his chambers at the conclusion of the service, someone announced that there was a visitor in the courtyard.
“‘Who is it?’ he asked.
“‘Someone named Saigyō,’ was the reply. ‘He has come in connection with the Lotus Service and hopes to spend the night here because it’s almost dark.’
“‘Well, this is my chance,’ Mongaku thought, and got himself ready. Then he opened the sliding door and waited. After a short time, the servant said, ‘Please, right in here,’ and Saigyō came in. After hearing about him for such a long time, Mongaku now actually saw him. ‘I’m most delighted that you have come to visit,’ he said most cordially, and then had dinner served. The next morning, with Mongaku asking him to please come again sometime, Saigyō left. Mongaku’s disciples were delighted that Saigyō had got away without incident.
“‘Seeing as how you always said that you would break his skull if you ever met him,’ they said, ‘haven’t you gone back on your word? You were chatting with him awfully congenially.’
“‘What a bunch of dolts you are,’ Mongaku said. ‘He wasn’t the sort to be knocked down by Mongaku; he was the sort to knock Mongaku down.’”
Someone said: “When Senzaishū 74 was being compiled, Saigyō was in the East Country, but he set out to return to the capital when he heard an imperial command to compile an anthology had been issued. On the way, he ran into Tōren.
“When he asked about the anthology, Tōren replied, ‘It has been made public, and many of your poems are included.’
“‘And was my poem, “Snipes flying up from a marsh / on evening in autumn,”75 among them?’ Saigyō asked.
“‘I don’t recall seeing it,’ Tōren replied.
“‘Then there’s no point in even looking at it,’ Saigyō said, and headed back for the East Country.”
A certain priest was up in the capital from the West Country. Spending the night at Sumiyoshi Shrine,76 he had a dream in which lots of people, priests and laymen, men and women, high and low, were gathered in front of the shrine. There were also many of the nobility. They all seemed to be waiting for someone. After a while, a Buddhist monk in a black robe was called into the main hall, after which a grand voice intoned the poem
Even one who claims
to no longer have a heart
feels this sad beauty:
snipes flying up from a marsh
on an evening in autumn.77
kokoro naki / mi ni mo aware wa / shirarekeri
shigi tatsu sawa no / aki no yūgure
So I was told.
Kunifuyu, Chief Priest of Sumiyoshi Shrine, said this: “Many poets have become patrons of my shrine. Michitsune, Governor of Izumi Province, was seen by people, in demon form, with paper and brush in hand, sitting on the platform in the northwest corner of the guard’s enclosure, facing west.” So the story goes.
Kunisuke Kaminushi built a shrine beside Shiragi Temple,78 where he is worshipped. He was called Imanushinokami. He is one of the masters of this Way of recent years.
What a happy thought—
that the fence around my shrine
is what protects
the god who guards the Way
shikishima no / michi mamorikeru / kami o shi mo
waga kamigaki to / omou ureshisa
Exactly the way he must have felt, I should think. He was allowed to attend banquets, and at the time of the Shin gosenshū,80 seventeen of his poems—the same number as for Hidetō—were included. He was peerless in both practice and reputation. However, he developed an obsession with the fact that Ietaka had composed 60,000 poems. Although he had already proved himself with many fine poems, now he wrote a thousand poems each month. From that time on, his poems lost their elegance, because so many were marred by frightful images. The current master, Tamesada, said that one should take precautions against such things. The Tō Lay Monk Yukiuji also composed a hundred poems every month, and none of them were of the sort to be included in an imperial anthology, he said.
The late master Tameyo said: “When you are a novice, you should compose love poems all the time. Then you will gain experience in both conception and diction.”
The late master Tameyo also said: “According to Tameie, cutting just one line from an old poem and composing a poem with that as a topic is good practice for novices. Because you must arrange things in such a way as to not alter the words of the original poem, your command of style will improve and your diction will be elegant.”
Imperial anthologies have other names. Go-shūishū,81 for instance, is called the Horse Mackerel Collection—a name probably given because Tsumori Kunimoto brought a gift of horse mackerel to the compiler as an appeal and got a lot of his poems included.82 Kinyōshū 83 is called Hijitsuki Aruji, which probably means “Inferior Anthology.”84 Shin chokusenshū is called Uji River Collection because there are so many poems by warriors in it.85 Shoku shūishū 86 is called Cormorant Boat Collection because it includes so many poems about watch fires.87 Some slanderers call the Shin gosenshū the Tsumori Collection, perhaps because it includes many poems by officials of Sumiyoshi Shrine.88 These days, too, there are those who lampoon imperial collections, but I guess none of them has the imagination to come up with a name.
When the late master Tameyo had received the command for the Shoku senzaishū 89 and was selecting poems, sometimes people who really were not poets would come calling. “Yes, it’s an imperial anthology, with poems by the nobility,” he would say, “but by all means submit your own.” Tamefuji and some other disciples thought that since an imperial anthology was so important for the Way, only truly superb poems should be chosen; they feared that asking people who didn’t compose poems to submit work would lead to criticism and was simply improper. The next time Tameyo met with them, having heard about this grumbling, he said: “Uta is a practice of this country. Who born into this country doesn’t compose poems?90 There are those who undertake practice and gain reputation in the world; there are those who compose alone, just to cultivate their hearts. In old anthologies there are excellent poems that were submitted by people who were not poets—the poem of the eight-year-old in the Gosenshū, for example.91 Having received an imperial command to compile an anthology, I am searching for good poems. As I do so, it may be that someone who is not a poet has composed a superb poem. How could I fail to announce my project broadly?” he said. They all thought this was an interesting reply.
Nōyo was a poet especially favored by the late master Tameyo. He was a beloved disciple of the late Bishop of Karyūji. His poem
Learn from the heart
of one who knows about grieving,
you cuckoo calling—
from one who in sorrow’s depths
still weeps only softly.
wabibito no / kokoro ni narae / hototogisu /
uki ni zo yasuku / ne wa nakarekeru
was put into Shin gosenshū as an anonymous poem;92 and when Retired Emperor Go-Nijō was putting poems from that anthology on screens, I understand that he included this one.
The late master thought highly of the following poems and told people about them:
At Meeting Hill
the moonlight must not have stopped
to spend the night:
for there it was in the west
as we passed the gate next morn.
ausaka ya / tsui ni tomaranu / tsukikage o /
seki no to akete / nishi ni miru kana
Let’s head off now
toward the house that must be there
where a dog is barking—
and ask the man he’s barking at
for a place to spend the night.
sato no inu no / koe suru kata o / shirube nite /
togamuru hito ni / yado ya karamashi
“Not the sort of thing one would recommend as a model of style,” I thought, and was ill at ease about it.
Then, when I was living in the Eastern Hills near Sōrinji, Nōyo came to visit me. “While I have known of you for some time,” he said, “I have never been able to meet you at poetry gatherings. I’m going down to Tsukushi soon and may never be in the capital again, so I have come to see you—please forgive the impertinence.” He was not at all accomplished in the Way, he said; he had never really undergone training in composition, nor did he claim any inborn talent for composing poems. “I really don’t understand myself why the master Tameyo has such kind things to say about me. It must be a bond from a former existence,” he said.
I chatted with him for a while, and it was clear that he hadn’t done much reading. “The sort of person the world calls a connoisseur,” I thought to myself.
According to Tameuji, Lord Kaneuji was capable both in practice and in composition. In a letter sent to someone, he also said that Kaneuji was not inferior to secretaries in the ministries in his knowledge of things related to the compilation of imperial anthologies. At the time of the Shoku shūishū,93 he was one of the fellows in the Poetry Bureau, but he died before the compilation was completed. Among his poems was this one:
Descending ever—
like the plank bridge decaying
at Obatada—
so are the tears of lovers
who are never able to meet.94
obatada no / itada no hashi to / koboruru wa
wataranu naka no / namida narikeri
which he had been told would be put in the anthology. Dharma Eye Keiyū, however, had reservations. That night, in a dream, Keiyū met Kaneuji on the veranda in one corner of the entry gate to the Reizei mansion. Kaneuji gripped him around the waist and said, “A poet is still concerned after he has passed on.” “It seemed he was resentful that Keiyū had voiced reservations about including the poem,” he thought. Later, Keiyū developed an infirmity in his back and was never free of it. What fearsome dedication! And Kaneuji’s son, Dharma Sign Chōshun, was not inferior in his dedication to the Way. He said, “Someday I will become a baby snake or a baby mouse in the Poetry Bureau offices; so if you see something of that sort, please refrain from harming it.” At the time of Shoku goshūiūshū,95 after he had died, a baby snake was seen among the books there, and someone was quick to say that it must be Chōshun. In particular, this put a scare into Dharma Sign Jisshō.
Lord Takanori lacked ability when he was young,96 so he went to Sumiyoshi and Tamatsushima97 and prayed devoutly. Perhaps for that reason, lately his approach has gained sway, and he has developed a reputation.98 His poetry contest judgments appear to remind people of those of old. Last year he came to a poetry meeting at the house of Master Tamesada. People felt that his manner of reading99 and handling of poems100 were worthy of praise.
The late master Tameyo also felt that the style of Kujō of the Second Rank in the lector’s seat was not at all similar to those of Koretsugu and Sanetō.
Arifusa said: “Once Tameie held a thousand-verse renga sequence at his Chū’in Mansion in Saga, with the same first verse for all ten hundred–verse sequences. The verse that he used as his first verse he recorded for later generations:
A brocade, perhaps—
such is the look of Saga
in the autumn time.
nishiki ka to / aki wa sagano no / miyuru kana
One wonders why can’t there be hokku like this today. On the last day of the Ninth Month, Lay-Monk Nobuzane invited a group of literati to come with him to the home of Ryūshin Shōnin in Fukakusa, where they composed linked verse. Tameie’s hokku was
Today, already
here we are at the very end
of autumn.
kefu wa haya / aki no kagiri ni / narinikeri
That night they spent composing linked verse, and were preparing to leave in the morning when Ryūshin said, “Today is the first day of winter. How about it? Why don’t we do it.” So they composed a renga again. Since none of those assembled knew the rules very well, Tameie wrote the hokku again:
Today, already
here we are at the beginning
of winter.
kesa wa haya / fuyu no hajime ni / narinikeri
A hokku serves just to begin the banquet, and needn’t always aim for real feeling.101
One autumn, Tameuji was composing renga at the temple of Ryūshin Shōnin in Fukakusa. He heard that Mushō was there, summoned him, and had him compose a hokku:
Cry out, then, cry—
you crickets in the heavy dew
nake ya nake / tsuyu fukakusa no / kirigirisu
Everyone was very impressed. Why is it that those crowds meeting beneath the blossoms these days can’t come up with something like this? I wonder.
Tamefuji said: “Among the nonprofessional poets of our day are Tominokōji Sanenori and Nakamikado Tsunetsugu, both major counselors. Tominokōji’s poems are not as lofty in conception as those of his father, Kin’o, but he is a poet who puts great effort into every poem and never comes up short. As for Nakamikado, he became a disciple of the Tameuji back in the days when he was serving as Clearance Officer103 and visited all the time. His poems are always seemly, and he keeps careful records. His style to this day appears to be straightforward and correct.
“There is something of interest and attractive in each of Tominokōji’s poems. Yet, in choosing poems to put in an imperial anthology, none of his is acceptable. In a poetry session, Nakamikado seems much less able, but when it comes to choosing poems for an imperial anthology, many of his are acceptable.”
The current master, Tamesada, says the same thing.
Tamefuji said this: “Teika always said, ‘My late father was a beautiful poet; as for me, I’m just a versifier.104 I set out to compose poems like those of my father, but I wasn’t up to it, so I stopped trying.
“‘Yet, both Tōken and Seikaku,105 however different in style, gained praised as preachers; and in the same way, there seem to be those for whom my poems stand out, even though they are different in style from those of my late father.’”
Tamefuji also said that Urabe Nakasuke had written about this matter in the same way.
Tamefuji said this: “In a letter written to Reverend Jichin, Teika said, ‘Your poems and those of my late father are by beautiful poets. Teika is a versifier who just constructs poems using the power of learning. All under heaven who construct poems are my disciples.’”
Once when Tamefuji visited Retired Emperor Go-Uda, His Majesty asked him about proper poetic style. Tamefuji said: “There’s really not that much to poetry. Take as your model this poem by the wife of the Uzumasa Monk:106
WRITTEN AT THE END OF THE YEAR, WHEN SHE WAS SUFFERING FROM WORLDLY TROUBLES
As I take apart
the causes of my sadness
on this winter night,
the only thing unfrozen still
is the current of my tears.
mi no usa o / omoishitokeba / fuyu no yo mo
todokoranu wa / namida narikeri
His closest attendants said that Go-Uda remained impressed ever after that Tameuji had said this was the foundation of poetry. “The author was not an especially accomplished poet, but the poem achieves an intensity of feeling, and its words come together most naturally, producing a poem truly praiseworthy in effect,” he thought.
Once Tameie was passing by the house of Shinkan and saw a carriage decorated with a sparrow design parked there. When he had a servant go and ask whose carriage it was, he was informed that it was the carriage of the Governor of Hyūga (Lord Kaneuji). This made Tameie so furious that after returning home, he went directly to the Poetry Bureau and cut from the imperial anthology the three poems by Kaneuji that had been selected for inclusion.107
Chōshun and Junkyō took the tonsure and lived in the Pine Shade Villa at Kajūji. Chōshun left and became a Confucian scholar in the area around Shōren’in, while Junkyō (Shun’e) went down to the East Country and made a name for himself as a ying-yang master—his original field. In the beginning, Chōshun went to the East Country as a monk and appeared now and again at Ōmidō, going by the sobriquet Kan’e. The judgment of people in poetry gatherings here and there was that his poems were too restrained.108 This is why poems in the restrained style are in the East Country referred to as in the manner of Lord Kan.109
Tamefuji said: “When Consultant Toshikoto became a courtier, Tamekane nominated him to serve as lector. In reading the title ‘Minister of the Left,’ he didn’t know that it was to be pronounced hidan no ōimochigimi.110 Tamekane hadn’t taught him this; perhaps he didn’t know it himself. Most amusing.”111
One should show formal poems to other people, and have poems submitted for public occasions revised. For The Hundred Poem Sequence of the Kagen Era,112 Jō’i wrote this poem:
All along the road
peasants are loaded with pine boughs
to place at the gate—
looking to be in a hurry
to wait for the year’s end.113
michinobe ni / shizu ga kadomatsu / ninaimote
isogu to miyuru / toshi no kure kana
This poem was also included in The Hundred Poem Sequence of the Bunpō Era. 114 This is a mistake of old age for a man long dedicated to the Way. It happened because he didn’t even show the poem to other disciples of the house.
To write down drafts for a round of poems115 at a poetic gathering and show them to people, or copy down a poem and put it in your breast pocket so that you can record it later—such things were never done by the adepts of the past. It is only recently that this has gone on. There are even cases when a person hands out paper to each person after topics have been passed out, and then collects them from everyone—a truly unsightly practice. To carry one’s poem around as if it’s something outstanding makes one look silly. It is simply inappropriate to be showing a poem composed extemporaneously to people at a gathering, soliciting corrections, and so on. The way people of late stick their heads together to arrive at judgments is most unseemly.
Jō’i said: “Because imperial anthologies are used to flatter those of high rank and to grant favor to their lackeys, true skill in composition, elegant taste, and practice have become of secondary importance—with the result that distinctions between the good and the bad in the Way cannot easily emerge. The intent over the years was to solicit preliminary collections116 for consideration, and then make choices based on the relative value of the poems; but since people are just as sensitive about preliminary collections, the plans come to nothing.”
Once when Tamefuji had an audience with the Go-Saionji Lay-Monk Chancellor Sanekane, he was asked which would be more beneficial for a beginning poet—to mark many poems as excellent, or only a few?117 Someone said that ever after, Sanekane said how impressed he was that Tamefuji said it would be more beneficial to mark only a few.
Lord Reizei Tamehide said: “At the time Fūgashū118 was being compiled, I went to the Hagiwara Palace and often talked with Retired Emperor Hanazono. ‘Of the poems I know by Lord Tamekane,’ he said, ‘I would take this one as the model:
Even the bird calls
ring serene in the mountains
as morning opens;
and the color of the haze
has the look of spring.119
tori no ne mo / nodokeki yama no / asaake ni
kasumi no iro mo / harumekinikeri
Over the years, I have asked my elders if, looking at old texts, one should not conclude that it is poems of lofty and beautiful configuration120 we should regard as supreme. The “highest of the highest rank” among the nine grades is given to poems of lofty conception, elegant diction, and overtones of intense feeling, it is said.121 And Tadamine and Michinari give first place among their ten styles to those in the archaic, mysterious, gentle styles, and the style of overtones.122 According to the writings of Teika, these poems by Minamoto no Shunrai should serve as models for public poems, and poems of high formality:
The cherry blossoms
seem now to be all in bloom.
Off in the distance,
against clouds in the heavens—
the white threads of a waterfall.123
sakurabana / sakinikerashi na / hisakata no
kumoi ni miyuru / taki no shiraito
In the swift stream
coursing by like the mighty men
of Uji River,
the waves pass over boulders—
no more numerous than your years.124
mononofu no / yasoujikawa no / hayaki se ni
iwakosu nami wa / chiyo no kazu ka mo
Among recent poets, the one to look up to is Tameie. Tamekane and Tamehide descend from him, and have split off into varying styles; but who would not look up to their forebear? Even when he was very ill, in the eleventh year of the Bun’ei era [1274], and put together his best poems of that period into a hundred-poem contest, with Kaneuji as his scribe, the poems were not anything special in terms of style—just mellifluous and full of feeling.
Since the time of Shunzei, it is the poems the masters chose from among their own poems for inclusion in imperial anthologies and those of their heirs that they first put into imperial anthologies that represent their truest intentions. In this connection: Senzaishū still retains some features of the style of mid-antiquity125 and does not always measure up. Likewise, Shin kokinshū is a product of the designs of its various compilers and the Retired Emperor [Go-Toba] and contains things that were not to the liking of Teika.126 The eleven poems of the compiler and six poems of his heir in Shin chokusenshū; the eleven poems of the compiler and six poems of his heir in Shoku gosenshū; the eleven poems of the compiler and six poems of his heir in Shoku shūishū—these are the poems that one should regard as the most fundamental models of style.127
In recent times, poetry has divided into many currents, with cronies at poetic gatherings always ready with their various opinions, throwing my old heart into confusion and leaving me looking for the one path I first heard of long ago. Being somewhat at a loss about how to proceed from now on, I put these notes together, beginning with the nine grades and the ten styles128 and continuing on to poems favored by particular authors. I have put them all in one box and given them the name “From a Frog at the Bottom of a Well.”
NOTES
1. Yūgen. A prominent critical term of praise, especially associated with the poetry and criticism of Fujiwara no Shunzei and his generation, indicating the suggestion of profound meaning beneath the surface.
2. Giri fukaku shite. A descriptive phrase probably related to Teika’s own characterization of his work as that of a versifier who relies on learning rather than profound spiritual understanding. See pp. 207–208.
3. This is the last poem of Kagetsu hyakushu, 1190. See Kubota Jun, ed., Yakuchū Fujiwara no Teika zenkashū, vol. 1 (Tokyo: Kawade Shobō, 1985), p. 107.
4. The poem appears in round 38 of Teika-kyō hyakuban jikaawase. See Higuchi Yoshimaro et al., Chūsei wakashū, Kamakura hen, vol. 46 of Shin Nihon koten bungaku taikei (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1991), p. 133.
5. Probably what offended Tameie was the repetition of “moon” in the phrase nagatsuki no / tsuki no ariake (In the moonlight / of the dawn moon of the Long Month).
6. Kubota Jun points out that in his later years Teika himself was rather critical of such syntactic constructions (Yakuchū Fujiwara no Teika zenkashū, vol. 1, p. 107).
7. Collection of Jeweled Leaves, 1313. Fourteenth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by the order of Jimyō’in Emperor Fushimi by Kyōgoku Tamekane, both of whom were rivals of the Nijō house. Standard texts of all the imperial anthologies are available in Shinpen Kokka taikan, vol. 1 (Tokyo: Kadokawa Shoten, 1983).
8. Tonna is correct. The poem does not appear in Gyokuyōshū.
9. The poem in question is number 2603 in Teika’s personal anthology, Shūi gusō. The incident related here took place in 1220. Go-Toba was evidently offended because Teika’s poem—which is doubtless a personal lament—seemed to allude to a poem by Sugawara no Michizane, who was sent into exile after being falsely accused by wicked ministers of the sovereign. Whether Teika intended such a comparison is unknown, but Teika was banned from court for a time. For a complete account, see Kubota Jun, Fujiwara Teika: Ran ni hana ari (Tokyo: Shueisha, 1984), pp. 214–218.
10. This probably is a reference to an incident recorded in GoToba’s own Go-Toba’in go-kuden. See Robert H. Brower, “Ex-Emperor Go-Toba’s Secret Teachings,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 32 (1972): 39–40.
11. This is poem number 1776 in Ietaka’s personal anthology, Minishū. See Shinpen Kokka taikan, vol. 3 (Tokyo: Kadokawa Shoten, 1990).
12. New Imperial Collection, 1234. Ninth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Fujiwara no Teika.
15. Shoku goshūishū 41, by Fujiwara no Tameuji. The headnote there reads: “On ‘A Spring View of an Inlet,’ written in the second year of the Kenchō era for a contest involving Chinese and Japanese poems.”
16. A contest held in 1250.
17. Kamuyakami no tatekami. Sasaki Takahiro et al. note that although in the Heian period this term referred to the fine papers produced for official documents at court, by the early Kamakura period the word indicated darker, recycled paper (Karon kagaku shūsei, vol. 10 [Tokyo: Miyai Shoten, 1999], p. 443, n. 52).
18. A different version of this story appears in Shōtetsu monogatari. See Robert H. Brower and Steven D. Carter, Conversations with Shōtetsu (Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, University of Michigan, 1992), p. 103.
19. Tanzaku. A long sheet of stiff paper on which poems were recorded.
21. Sōshi. Here, probably a reference to books of poetry.
22. “Blue clouds” probably means something like “clouds in the blue sky”—that is, the natural world itself rather than old poems.
23. Later Collection Continued, 1251. Tenth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Fujiwara no Tameie.
24. Teachers “marked” poems submitted by students that they judged to be outstanding, usually with a diagonal brushstroke just above the poem.
25. The name of Tameie’s house in Saga, also pronounced Nakano’in.
26. Shin chokusenshū 794.
27. Collection of Ancient and Modern Times, 905. First of the imperially commissioned anthologies of court poetry.
28. An area in modern Ōtsu City. The place of Ben no Naishi’s actual retirement was, in fact, nearer Yokawa.
29. Ancient Chinese mythology had it that each year on the seventh day of the Seventh Month, the Herd Boy (Altair) and the Weaver Maiden (Vega)—kept apart by their parents—met for just one night across the bridge provided by the Milky Way. Poets met on that month to write poems honoring the couple.
31. Kokin no setsu. A reference to the coveted “secret teachings” of the house concerning Kokinshū and other early poetic texts. Tameyo received his grandfather’s secret teachings in Saga when he was fifteen years old.
32. According to Tō no Tsuneyori, a disciple of Tonna’s descendant Gyōkō, Tonna uttered this sentence as his last words. See Tōyashū kikigaki, in Nihon kagaku taikei, vol. 5. (Tokyo: Kazama Shobō, 1957), p. 377.
33. Collection of Ancient and Modern Times Continued, 1265. Eleventh of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Fujiwara no Tameie and others.
34. In fact, twenty-five of her poems appear in imperial anthologies, including those compiled after her death.
35. Wakan kensakushū. A mid–Kamakura period anthology that brings together works by poets famous for both their Japanese and their Chinese poems. Imadegawa’in Konoe is the only woman represented in the collection. See Shinpen Kokka taikan, vol. 6 (Tokyo: Kadodawa Shoten, 1985).
36. The most widely read of all the Mahayana sutras.
37. Shōbugasane. Ladies arranged their robes to create a “layered effect” of colors. This one involved a combination of varying shades of blue-green and pink.
38. The last phrase, an obscure passage, translates: kuruma yori mo ori mo sede, makariidete haberishi. I follow Sasaki in favoring ori mo sede over the orite of the Nihon kagaki taikei text (Karon kagaku shūsei, vol. 10, pp. 312, 447, n. 92).
39. Jin no za. Originally, a guard’s chamber, but generally used for formal meetings of courtiers.
40. The poet Shinkei relates a story about Shunzei with a similar message. See Sasamegoto, in Rengaronshū, vol. 50 of Nihon koten bungaku taikei (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1961), p. 146.
41. A prominent temple that had originated as a noble residence.
43. The main hall of an aristocrat’s dwelling.
44. Roppyaku-ban uta-awase, organized by Minister of the Left Fujiwara no Yoshitsune in 1192/1193.
45. Tokko, a short, double-pointed steel lance used in various esoteric Buddhist rituals; kamakubi, a rod with a crooked, cobra-shaped headpiece.
46. Kakinomoto and kurinomoto.
47. Ushin, or poems displaying aristocratic diction and taste; mu-shin, or humorous or unorthodox poems.
51. Ensho jisshu uta-awase, more generally known as Entō on-utaawase. A mock contest commissioned by Retired Emperor Go-Toba after his exile to Oki Island. In 1236, the Retired Emperor commissioned Fujiwara no Ietaka to solicit poems from fifteen poets for the contest, each writing ten poems on prescribed topics.
52. Poem number 50 in the contest, from round 25.
53. Shin kokinshū 114, a famous poem by Fujiwara no Shunzei.
54. It was completed in 1205, with revisions thereafter.
55. Fujiwara no Hidetō, or Hideyoshi.
56. Twelve of his poems were included in the anthology.
57. Hōji hyakushu. A set of sequences solicited from forty poets by Retired Emperor Go-Saga in 1248.
58. In his later years, Tomoie sided with Shinkan and others against Teika’s son and heir, Tameie.
59. Shoku gosenshū 1118. The headnote there reads: “On ‘The Moon at an Old Temple.’” The place name Takano refers to Mount Kōya, site of the most important of the Shingon monasteries, where the light of Buddhist law, symbolized by the moonlight, shines amid the darkness of the world.
61. “Initiating verse,” a term referring to the first verse of a linked verse sequence.
62. The author of the first verse of a sequence was required to work into the syntax of his poem an answer to a kind of riddle: “What path?”⃗ a mountain path.
65. This anecdote does not appear in extant versions of Ben no Naishi nikki.
66. Shodō. No doubt referring mostly to such courtly arts as practicing calligraphy and playing musical instruments.
67. Jomoku no koto. The study of procedures, customs, and regulations associated with various court offices.
68. In fact, Enkō’in—Takatsukasa Mototada—was quite active in poetic circles. More than eighty of his poems appear in imperial anthologies.
69. Fuyuhira is generally considered to have been an adherent of Nijō poetics rather than of the Kyōgoku school of Fushimi.
70. Jidai fudō uta-awase. A 150-round contest concocted by Retired Emperor Go-Toba in the mid-1230s that pitted poets from the early ages (until the time of Shūishū) against poets from later ages in a mock competition format.
71. Hare no uta. A formal poem for a contest or public gathering.
72. An area to the west of the capital, in Saga.
73. Five of his poems appear in the anthology.
74. Collection of a Thousand Years, 1188. Seventh of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Fujiwara no Shunzei.
75. One of Saigyō’s most famous poems, it was later included in Shin kokinshū as number 3620.
76. Located in Settsu Province, Sakai. It is a shrine to Sumiyoshi Myōjin, a patron god of poets.
78. I am following Sasaki in favoring Shiragidera over Jingoji (Karon kagaku shūsei, vol. 10, p. 456, no. 185). The former refers to a temple within the Sumiyoshi Shrine complex.
80. New Later Collection, 1303. Thirteenth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Nijō Tameyo and members of the Tsumori family.
81. Later Collection of Gleanings, 1086. Fourth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Fujiwara no Michitoshi.
82. Three of his poems were included, more than was to be expected for one of his rank and stature.
83. Collection of Golden Leaves, 1126. Fifth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Minamoto no Shunrai.
84. The meaning of the title is unclear. See Fujioka Tadaharu, ed., Fukurō zōshi, vol. 29 of Shin Nihon koten bungaku taikei (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1995). It was evidently Fujiwara no Moritsune who gave it the name. The title Kin’yōshū (Collection of golden leaves) was considered to have unlucky connotations because “golden leaves” were reported to have fallen at the time of the Buddha’s death.
85. The connection of the Uji River and warriors goes back to a famous poem attributed to Kakinomoto no Hitomaro (Man’yōshū 266), in which the river is referred to as “the river of the emperor’s mighty men.”
86. Collection of Gleanings Continued, 1278. Twelfth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Fujiwara no Tameuji.
87. Kagari. Such fires were used to attract fish at night by cormorant fishermen. However, the title probably is a veiled reference to the prominence of poems by military men—who stood watch around “watch fires”—in the anthology.
88. The anthology contains many poems by Nijō Tamyo’s in-laws of the Tsumori family, who held the hereditary headship of Sumiyoshi Shrine.
89. Collection of a Thousand Years Continued, 1320. Fifteenth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Fujiwara no Tameyo.
90. An allusion to the famous Kokinshū preface: “The song of the warbler among the blossoms, the voice of the frog dwelling in the water—these teach us that every living creature sings.” See Helen Craig McCullough, Kokin Wakashū: The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1985), p. 3.
91. The headnote to Gosenshū 461 reads: “Sent when her parent had gone away and was late coming back (written by a girl of eight).”
93. Collection of Gleanings Continued, 1278.
94. The poem eventually was included in the last imperial anthology, Shin shokukokinshū, as number 1143.
95. Later Collection of Gleanings Continued, 1325. Sixteenth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Nijō Tamefuji and Nijō Tamesada.
96. Inoue Muneo notes that when encouraged to have Takanori serve as lector for a poetic event in 1289, the young man’s father demurred because his son was not ready for such a task (Chūsei kadan shi no kenkyū, Nanbokuchō hen [Tokyo: Meiji Shoin, 1987], p. 20). Later, Takanori became one of the major court poets in the Kyōgoku style.
97. Shintō shrines whose deities were sacred to Japanese poets.
98. The sentence translates: saru yue ni ya, chikagoro wa michi mo saru tei ni narite hito mo shiriki. I have interpreted michi mo saru tei ni narite to mean that of late, the Kyōgoku style has gained in popularly again, with the advent of Reizei Tamehide at court. An alternative interpretation would be: “Perhaps for that reason, lately he has developed a worthy style, and gained a reputation.”
99. Hikō no tei. A reference to his way of reading poems aloud as lector at a poetry meeting.
100. Utamotenashi. A vague expression that could refer to his “handling” of poetic composition but also to his “handling” of the etiquette involved in producing poems in a formal setting.
101. In his Azuma mondō, the renga poet Sōgi attributes these verses, in slightly altered form, to Tameie’s consort, the nun Abutsu. See Rengaronshū haironshū, vol. 66 of Nihon koten bungaku taikei (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1961), p. 218.
102. An allusion to Goshūishū 273, a famous uta by Sone no Yoshitada.
103. Kageyushi. The officer responsible for arranging for smooth transitions of power between retiring and newly appointed provincial governors.
104. The contrast being made here is between utayomi, a term of praise that Teika evidently reserved for his father and Jichin, and utazukuri, which he uses for himself.
105. Chōken and Seikaku were also father and son and yet had different styles of preaching.
106. In Kin’yōshū, where it appears as number 584, the poem is labeled “anonymous.” In Mumyōshō, the poem is attributed to a court lady identified as the wife of the Awaji Ajari of Ninnaji. See Nihon koten bungaku taikei, vol. 65 (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1961), p. 70. The poem is given as an example of a poem by an untrained person under the influence of strong emotion.
107. Shinkan was Tameie’s chief rival. The imperial anthology alluded to in the anecdote is probably Shoku kokinshū, which was compiled by Tameie, Shinkan, and a number of other poets. Only one of Kaneuji’s poems was included in the final text.
109. An abbreviated form of Kan’e.
110. Hidan is a contracted form of hidari (left).
111. Knowledge of such matters was expected of the heirs of poetic houses, such as the Kyōgoku. For Tamekane not to have taught his heir about such things was a reflection of his lack of “seriousness” as a poet in the minds of his opponents of the Nijō camp.
112. Kagen hyakushu, 1303. The poem does not in fact appear in this anthology.
113. Bunpō hyakushu 3066, another version of the poem, reads slightly differently: “Ready to celebrate, people are loaded with pine boughs . . . (iwau beki / tami no kado matsu). A pine bough was placed at the corner of the gate as a prayer for prosperity in the new year.
114. Bunpō hyakushu, 1320.
115. Tsugiuta. A round of poems—a hundred, in many cases—generally composed extemporaneously.
116. Uchigiki. A term for various “personal collections” put together with the idea of providing raw material for later imperial anthologies.
117. It was the custom for students of masters such as Tamefuji to present their poems for “marking,” which teachers usually did with a diagonal brushstroke.
118. Collection of Elegance, 1346. Seventeenth of the imperial anthologies, compiled by Retired Emperor Kōgon and Retired Emperor Hanazono.
120. Takaku, uruwashiki sugata. Poems of lofty diction and conventionally beautiful form.
121. A reference to the Waka kuhon of Fujiwara no Kintō. Kintō divides his eighteen exemplary poems into nine grades, and classifies them into highest, middle, and lowest grades within each category. See Waka kuhon, in Karonshū, nōgakuronshū, vol. 65 of Nihon koten bungaku taikei (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1961), p. 32.
122. Tadamine jittei is the title of a list of fifty exemplary poems in ten categories attributed to the tenth-century poet Mibu no Tadamine, although almost certainly by a later hand and from a later date. Michinari jittei is a later text that derives directly from Tadamine jittei, attributed to Minamoto no Michinari. For a text of Tadamine jittei, see Nihon kagaku taikei, vol. 1 (Tokyo: Kazama Shoin, 1957). The first four categories in Tadamine jittei are indeed those Tonna lists: the koka tei, the shinmyō tei, the sunao naru tei, and the yojō tei.
123. The first two lines in the original (Kinyōshū 50) actually read: yamazakura / sakisomeshi yori (since first blossoming / of the mountain cherry trees).
124. A congratulatory poem written in praise of Fujiwara no Morozane for The Kaya no In Poetry Contest of 1094 (Senzaishū 615). The first line of the poem actually reads: ochitagitsu (cascading rapids), rather than mononofu no (like the mighty men).
125. Chūko no fū. For Tonna, probably a reference to the days before the Mikohidari lineage of Shunzei had established itself as preeminent at court.
126. Eleven compilers were first appointed to put together this anthology, with three more added later, plus the librarian for the project, Minamoto no Ienaga.
127. These three imperial anthologies were assembled by compilers working alone—Teika, Tameie, and Tameuji. The numbers given here—eleven poems for each compiler, six for their heirs—are incorrect. Earlier in Seiashō, however, Tonna notes that Shunzei first chose eleven of his poems for inclusion and was then asked by the emperor to include more. This no doubt became a tradition. See Nihon kagaku taikei, vol. 5 (Tokyo: Kazama Shobō, 1957), pp. 26–28.