MYS V: 892

A poem, with tanka: The dialogue of the poor and destitute.

風交じり 雨降る夜の 雨交り 雪降る夜は すべもなく 寒くしあれば 堅鹽を とりつづしろひ 糟湯酒 うちすすろひて しはぶかひ 鼻びしびしに しかとあらぬ ひげ掻き撫でて 我れをおきて 人はあらじと 誇ろへど 寒くしあれば 麻衾 引き被り 布肩衣 ありのことごと 着襲へども 寒き夜すらを 我れよりも 貧しき人の 父母は 飢ゑ凍ゆらむ 妻子どもは 乞ふ乞ふ泣くらむ この時は いかにしつつか 汝が世は渡る 天地は 廣しといへど 我がためは 狹くやなりぬる 日月は 明しといへど 我がためは 照りやたまはぬ 人皆か 我のみやしかる わくらばに 人とはあるを 人竝に 我れもなれるを 綿もなき 布肩衣の 海松のごと わわけさがれる かかふのみ 肩にうち掛け 伏廬の 曲廬の内に 直土に 藁解き敷きて 父母は 枕の方に 妻子どもは 足の方に 圍み居て 憂へさまよひ かまどには 火氣吹き立てず 甑には 蜘蛛の巣かきて 飯炊く ことも忘れて ぬえ鳥の のどよひ居るに いとのきて 短き物を 端切ると いへるがごとく しもと取る 里長が聲は 寢屋處まで 來立ち呼ばひぬ かくばかり べなきものか 世閒の道

kaze madiri
amë puru yo nö
amë madiri
yuki puru yo pa
sube mo naku
samuku si areba
kata sipo wo
tori tudusiröpi
kasuyuzake
utisusuröpite
sipabukapi
pana bisibisi ni
sika tö aranu
pigë kaki nadete
are wo okite
pitö pa aradi tö
poköröpedö
samuku si areba
asabusuma
pikikagapuri
nunokataginu
ari nö kötögötö
kisöpedömo
samuki yo sura wo
ware yori mo
madusiki pitö nö
titi papa pa
uwe koyuramu
mekodömo pa
kopu kopu nakuramu
könö töki pa
ika ni situtu ka
na ga yö pa wataru
amë tuti pa
pirosi tö ipedö
a ga tame pa
saku ya narinuru
pitukï pa
akasi tö ipedö
a ga tame pa
teri ya tamapanu
pitö mina ka
a nömï ya sikaru
wakuraba ni
pitö tö pa aru wo
pitonami ni
are mo nareru wo
Wata mo naki
nunokataginu nö
miru nö götö
wawakesagareru
kakapu nömï
kata ni utikake
puseipo nö
magëipo nö uti ni
pitatuti ni
wara tokisikite
titi papa pa
makura nö kata ni
mekodömo pa
asi nö kata ni
kakumiwite
urepe samayopi
kamado ni pa
poke pukitatezu
kosiki ni pa
kumo nö su kakite
ipi kasiku
kötö mo wasurete
nuedori nö
nödöyöpiwiru ni
itönökite
midikaki monö wo
pasi kiru tö
iperu ga götöku
simotö toru
satowosa ga kowe pa
neyado made
kitati yobapinu
kaku bakari
benaki monö ka
yö nö naka nö miti
In amongst the wind
Rain falls at night,
And in amongst the rain
Falls snow:
With nothing to do
For I am cold,
A hard cake of salt
I take and nibble,
With sake lees in hot water
To sip upon;
Coughing,
Nose running constantly;
Nothing to speak of,
My beard as I stroke it
“Apart from me
There’s no one!”
Say I in my pride, but
As I am cold,
Hemp blankets
I pull up around my head;
Sleeveless jackets,
All I have,
I put on, one on top another;
Yet though the night is cold –
Even more than I –
A poor man,
With mother and father
Starving and numb,
Wife and children
Begging weeping;
At such a time
What is he to do?
As he passes through the world.
Heaven and earth,
Are wide, they say, yet
For me
Are they not cramped?
The sun and moon
Shine bright, they say, yet
For me
Do they shine at all?
Are all men
Or only me this way?
By chance
I was born a man and
Like other men
I am made, but
An unpadded
Sleeveless jacket
Like algae
Frayed and drooping
In rags alone
Hangs from my shoulders, and
In this low-roofed hut,
This bent and crooked hut,
Straight on the ground
Straw’s spread;
My mother and father
Deep inside;
My wife and children
On the edge
Huddle together and
Moan sadly;
From the stove
No smoke rises and
In the rice pot
A spider’s spun its web;
Cooking rice
Is something we’ve forgotten;
When we’re as ground thrushes
Here cheeping,
“To make a point of
Taking a short measure
And making it shorter still,”
As they say,
With whip in hand,
The village headman’s voice
To my bed
Comes calling;
Is this all there is?
Is it so hopeless?
Our path in the world.

Yamanoue no Okura
山上憶良

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