When he had gone to Naniwa, he met with rain on Tamino Island and composed this poem:
あめによりたみのの島をけふゆけど名にはかくれぬ物にぞ有りける
| ame ni yori tamino no sima wo keFu yukedo na ni Fa kakurenu mono ni zo arikeru | On account of rain To Tamino Isle, raincoat clad, I went today, yet Naniwa, so well-known, conceals The place! |
Tsurayuki
貫之
Composed on the moon reflected in a pond.
ふたつなき物と思ひしをみなそこに山のはならでいづる月かげ
| Futatu naki mono to omoFisi wo mina soko ni yama no Fa narade iduru tuki kage |
A singular Thing, it was, I thought, yet From the water’s depths, Not from the mountains’ peaks, Comes moonlight. |
Ki no Tsurayuki
紀貫之
Composed when Ōshikōchi no Mitsune had come calling, and said that the moon was beautiful.
かつ見れどうとくもあるかな月影のいたらぬさともあらじと思へば
| katu miredo utoku mo aru kana tuki kage no itaranu sato mo aradi to omoFeba |
While I gaze upon it I feel a certain distance: The moon light Makes its way to dwellings Everywhere, I feel. |
Ki no Tsurayuki
紀貫之
On seeing plum blossom at a house where the master had died, he composed this:
色もかも昔のこさににほへどもうゑけむ人の影ぞこひしき
| iro mo ka mo mukasi no kosa ni niFoFedomo uwekemu Fito no kage zo koFisiki |
The colour and the fragance Have the depth of long ago In their lustre, yet Of the one who planted them A glimpse would be yet more dear still. |
Tsurayuki
貫之
During the summer of the year following Lord Fujiwara no Takatsune’s death, he heard a cuckoo sing and composed this:
郭公けさなくこゑにおどろけば君を別れし時にぞありける
| Fototogisu kesa naku kowe ni odorokeba kimi wo wakaresi toki ni zo arikeru |
The cuckoo’s Calling cry this morning Startled me, for You left us At just this time. |
Tsurayuki
貫之
Composed on the road to a mountain temple, in the autumn of a year when he was in mourning.
あさ露のおくての山田かりそめにうき世中を思ひぬるかな
| asagiri no okute no yamada karisome ni uki yo no naka wo omoFinuru kana |
The morning mists Descend upon the late-growing mountain fields; Harvest has begun; so brief And fleeting is this world of ours I feel. |
Tsurayuki
貫之