A man went to the country house of a woman with whom he had been having conversation, among other things, but although he knocked – perhaps because she did not hear him – she did not open the gate, so listening to the frogs croaking in the paddies.
葦引の山田のそほつうちわひてひとりかへるのねをそなきぬる
| asiFiki no yamada no soFodu utiwabite Fitori kaFeru no ne o zo nakinuru |
Reed pulling in The mountain paddies, a scarecrow Stands grieving; On his solitary return, the frogs’ Cries is all he does! |
Anonymous
Composed to accompany a painting of the few remains of the bridge at Naraga on a folding screen for His Majesty, during the Tenryaku era.
葦間より見ゆる長柄の橋柱昔の跡のしるべなりけり
| asima yori miyuru nagara no Fasibasira mukasi no ato no sirube narikeri |
From between the reeds Can one see at Nagara The bridge pillars: A trace from long ago To guide us now… |
Fujiwara no Kiyotada
藤原清正
Left.
寢覺まで猶苦しき行歸り足も休めぬ夢の通ひ路
| nezame made nao kurushiki yukikaeri ashi mo yasumenu yume no kayoiji |
Until I awaken It is ever painful Going back and forth My feet not resting once Upon the path of dreams. |
Lord Ari’ie.
837
Right.
忘らるゝ身をば思はで龍田山心にかゝる沖つ白波
| wasuraruru mi o ba omowade tatsuta yama kokoro ni kakaru oki tsu shiranami |
Forgotten I think not on myself, but On Mount Tatsuta Dwells my heart Whipped by whitecaps… |
Jakuren.
838
The Gentlemen of the Right: no faults to mention. The Gentlemen of the Left state: the Right’s poem does not have anything to say beyond what is contained in its origin poem.
In judgement: the Left’s poem takes the conception of Komachi’s poem ‘my feet don’t rest, constantly trailing to you, yet’ (ashi mo yasumezu kayoedomo) and skilfully adds ‘Until I awaken it is ever painful’ (nezame made nao kurushiki). The Right’s poem is based upon the poem ‘where, through night’s depths, my Lord’ (yowa ni ya kimi ga), but then says ‘Dwells my heart whipped by whitecaps’ (kokoro ni kakaru oki tsu shiranami), which sounds pleasant, too. They are comparable and should tie.
Left (Win).
忘れずよほのぼの人を三嶋江のたそがれなりし蘆のまよひに
| wasurezu yo honobono hito o mishimae no tasogare narishi ashi no mayoi ni |
Never will I forget you Who I glimpsed faintly In the dusk of Mishima Bay A single reed Causes confusion. |
647
Right.
花の色に移る心は山櫻霞のまより思ひそめてき
| hana no iro ni utsuru kokoro wa yamazakura kasumi no ma yori omoisometeki |
A blossom’s hue Has caught my heart; A mountain cherry Through the parted mists Has set me on the path of love. |
648
The Gentlemen of the Right state: saying simply ‘dusk’ (tasogare) when it should be ‘the hour of dusk’ (tasogare toki) sounds somewhat strange. The Gentlemen of the Left state: the Right’s poem is composed to recall the Kokinshū’s ‘A mountain cherry through the drifting mists’ (yamazakura kasumi no ma yori), but is inferior to the original.
Shunzei’s judgement: in regard to the Left’s poem, it is certainly the case that, even without the ‘hour’, ‘in the dusk’ is a standard expression. The Right’s poem sounds old-fashioned. The Left, though, does not sound unpleasant, even though its mentioning of ‘never will I forget’ (wasurezu yo) recollects ‘a tiled kiln’. It should win.
Left.
憂しつらし安積の沼の草の名よかりにも深き縁は結ばで
| ushi tsurashi asaka no numa no kusa no na yo kari ni mo fukaki en wa musubade |
How cruel and cold! At Asaka Marsh The once seen reeds do grow; Briefly, a deep Bond will not be made. |
645
Right.
かゝりける姿の池の鴛の聲聞きては袖の濡れし數かは
| kakarikeru sugata no ike no oshi no koe kikite wa sode no nureshi kazu ka wa |
Such a Form! On Sugata Pond The loving mandarin duck calls I hear and my sleeves: Drenched how many times? |
646
Neither team has any criticisms this round.
Shunzei’s judgement: ‘The Left’s ‘At Asaka Marsh’ (asaka no numa) and the Right’s ‘On Sugata Pond the loving mandarin duck calls’ (sugata no ike no oshi no koe) are both tasteful in diction [yū no kotoba ni wa haberu], but beginning with ‘How cruel and cold!’ (ushi tsurashi) sounds like the poet is writing a love letter, and this is overly informal for a poetry competition [uta’awase ni wa kegen naru yō ni ya haberan]. ‘On Sugata Pond the loving mandarin duck calls’ is charming, but why did the poet not continue with ‘I did hear and my sleeves’ (kikishi wa sode no)? In any case, this round neither poem is markedly superior to the other.
Left (Win).
靡かじな海士の藻塩火焚き初めて煙は空にくゆりわぶ共
| nabikaji na ama no moshiobi takisomete kemuri wa sora ni kuyuriwabutomo |
She has not so much as waved to me, yet The fisher-folk salt fires Have begun to kindle and The smoke into the skies Has yet to rise… |
607
ight.
葦の屋の隙漏る雨の雫こそ音聞かぬより袖は濡れけれ
| ashi no ya no hima moru ame no shizuku koso oto kikanu yori sode wa nurekeri |
Through a roof of reeds’ Chinks, drenching rain Drops Make no sound, yet Soak my sleeves. |
608
The Right state that it should be kuyuru in the Left’s poem – and that they are not accustomed to hearing kuyuri. The Left state that, ‘while the rain falling on a roof of reeds would make no sound, once it became drops dripping through, it would. In addition, while it “makes no sound”, how can it be love?’
Shunzei’s judgement: The gentlemen of the Right’s claim that the Left’s poem should be kuyuri is incorrect. This is simply a case of the same diction as in utsuru-utsuri, todomaru-todomari – I should not have to give more examples. In form the poems do have good and bad points [utazama zen’aku arubeki]. I have the feeling I have recently seen something similar to the Right’s metaphorical use of a roof of reeds. Or maybe it was not that recently. The Left’s ‘has yet to rise’ seems better. I shall make it the winner.
Left.
蘆の屋の蔦這ふ軒の村時雨音こそ立てね色は隱れず
| ashi no ya no tsuta hau noki no murashigure oto koso tatene iro wa kakurezu |
My roof of reeds, Ivy twining on the eaves, is struck By a soft shower Sound is there none, but The hues cannot hide… |
429
Right.
今朝見れば蔦這う軒に時雨して忍のみこそ青葉也けり
| kesa mireba tsuta hau noki ni shigureshite shinobu nomi koso aoba narikeri |
When I looked this morning, The ivy twining on the eaves Was struck by a shower; Only the ferns remember To remain green-leaved. |
430
Neither team has any criticisms to make of the other’s poem, and say as much.
Shunzei’s judgement: Both poems are concern ‘a shower falling on ivy-clad eaves’, with the Left mentioning no sound from a ‘roof of reeds’ and the Right the different hues of ‘fern-remembered eaves’ (shinobu no noki). Thus, there is not much between them. I make them the same quality.
Left (Win).
浪寄する澤の蘆邊をふし侘て風に立つなり鴫の羽がき
| nami yosuru sawa no ashibe o fushiwabite kaze ni tatsunari shigi no hanegaki |
A wave beats on The marshy reed beds; Roost broken, sorrowfully Starting up into the breeze The snipe work their wings. |
407
Right.
明ぬとて澤立つ鴫の一聲は羽かくよりも哀なりけり
| akenu tote sawa tatsu shigi no hito koe wa hane kaku yori mo aware narikeri |
Crying that there’s no dawn yet, Starting from the marsh, a snipe’s Single call, More that his beating wings Summons sadness… |
408
The Right wonder, ‘if it wouldn’t be rather difficult for a lightly beat its wings on taking off into the wind, as in the Left’s poem?’ The Left respond with, ‘In the Right’s poem, the accustomed reference to the sound of the snipe’s wings, seems subordinated to its cry. Is that right?’
Shunzei’s judgement: A snipe’s wing-beats on taking off into a strong wind are not that vigorous. ‘The snipe work their wings’ (shigi no hanegaki) is what they do, whether gently or not. However, this poem has more of a feeling of reed-bed dwelling birds like cranes, or plovers. In the Right’s poem, it’s not clear what kind of snipe it is ‘starting from the marsh’. The Left’s ‘reed-bed snipe’ should win.