Blankets 衾
あせいらばうれたくせこはおもはじや人はだふるなまだらこぶすま
ase iraba uretaku seko wa omowaji ya hito wa taburu na madara kobusuma | If I’m drenched with sweat, Should I crossly the world Cast from my thoughts? O, don’t drive folk mad, You motley blankets! |
Nakazane
Blankets 衾
あせいらばうれたくせこはおもはじや人はだふるなまだらこぶすま
ase iraba uretaku seko wa omowaji ya hito wa taburu na madara kobusuma | If I’m drenched with sweat, Should I crossly the world Cast from my thoughts? O, don’t drive folk mad, You motley blankets! |
Nakazane
Kindling 薪
しづのをがこりつむ薪我かくとたれゆゑもゆるおもひなるらん
shizu no o ga koritsumu takigi ware kaku to tare yue moyuru omoi naruran | A mountain man Sets light to kindling; I am just so: For whose sake do I burn With passion’s fire? |
Daishin
Kindling 薪
太山柴おのがかまどにとりくべてあさけ夕けのけぶりたつめり
miyama shiba ono ga kamado ni torikubete asake yūke no keburi tatsumeri | Brushwood from the mountains’ depths To my kiln have I Taken and kindled, that Both morn and eve The smoke does seem to rise. |
Higo
Kindling 薪
折りくぶる柴さまざまにみゆれどもけぶりはひとつ色にこそたて
orikuburu shiba samazama ni miyuredomo keburi wa hitotsu iro ni koso tate | Broken for kindling, The brushwood in many shapes Does appear, yet The smoke in but one Shade does rise. |
Kanemasa
Kindling 薪
こりつみしほだなかりせば冬ふかきかた山ほらにいかですままし
koritsumishi hoda nakariseba fuyu fukaki katayama hora ni ikade sumamashi | Felled Fields were there none, then Why, in the depths of winter In a mountain cave Would any wish to dwell? |
Tadafusa
Kindling 薪
かれはててたきぎになりし昔よりたきすてらるる日をぞかぞふる
karehatete takigi ni narishi mukashi yori takisuteraruru hi zo kazouru | Dried up and withered Kindling did become; That time long past, since then have The burnt out Days I counted up… |
Toshiyori
Kindling 薪
おく山のならひとなればあなしげの雪よりさきに薪こりつめ
oku yama no narai to nareba ana shige no yuki yori saki ni takigi koritsume | Deep with the mountains, A custom it has become, so Before the fearful fall of Snow does come, Go cut kindling! |
Nakazane
Kindling 薪
ま柴かるかりばのをのに雪ふりてつま木になづむ遠の里人
mashiba karu kariba no ono ni yuki furite tsumagi ni nazumu tō no satobito | The brushwood is withered In the hunting grounds, where The snow has fallen; As fond of kindling as he is of his wife, That distant villager. |
Akinaka