天雲のたゆたひ来れば九月の黄葉の山もうつろひにけり
| amakumo no tayutapikureba nagatuki no momidi no yama mo uturopinikeri |
As Heaven’s clouds Come fluttering In the Longest Month Autumn leaves upon the mountains Have paled in hue. |
Tag Archives: autumn leaves
Winter I: 6
Left (Tie).
散果てん木葉の音を殘しても色こそなけれ嶺の松風
| chirihaten ko no ha no oto o nokoshitemo iro koso nakere mine no matsukaze |
Completely scattered Are the leaves, but the sound Remains Lacking only the hue As the wind blows through the pines on the peak. |
491
Right.
時雨ゆく松の緑は空晴て嵐にくもる峰の紅葉葉
| shigure yuku matsu no midori wa sora harete arashi ni kumoru mine no momijiba |
Is drizzle falling On the pines so green? The skies are clear, Clouded only by a storm Of scarlet leaves from the peaks… |
492
The Right have no criticisms to make of the Left’s poem. The Left state that they find the Right’s poem, ‘difficult to grasp’. In reply, the Right say, ‘It is conceived after a Chinese poem that “the wind in the pines is the sound of rain”.’
Shunzei’s judgement: The Left’s poem is excellent in both configuration and diction [sugata kotoba yoroshiku haberumere]. The Right’s ‘clouded only by a storm’ (arashi ni kumoru) sounds charming in conception [kokoro okashiku kikoyu] – even without drawing upon the Chinese model. In this round, too, there is no clear winner or loser and it must tie.
Winter I: 5
Left.
はかなしや浮きたる風に誘はれていづち生田の杜の木葉ぞ
| hakanashi ya ukitaru kaze ni sasowarete izuchi ikuta no mori no konoha zo |
How fleeting! The fickle wind Beckons, but Where does Ikuta’s Sacred grove send its leaves? |
489
Right.
惜しみかね嶺の紅葉に染置きし心の色も散り果てにけり
| oshimikane mine no momiji ni someokishi kokoro no iro mo chirihatenikeri |
I cannot regret, that Scarlet leaves from on the peak Have laid a stain Upon the hues within my heart And scattered them all over! |
The Provisional Master of the Empress’ Household Office.
490
The Right find no fault with the Left’s poem. The Left wonder whether the use of ‘I cannot regret’ (oshimikane) implies that the poet feels nothing prior to that.
Shunzei’s judgement: The Left’s final section is elegant [yū ni haberu], but although I have heard of many different types of wind, I have no recollection of any familiarity [kikinarete mo oboehaberane] with a ‘fickle wind’ (ukitaru kaze). While I feel the Right’s poem has no particular faults, the initial ‘I cannot regret’ (oshimikane) does not seem to fit will with what follows. The poems are alike and the round must tie.
Winter I: 3
Left.
かつ惜しむ眺めも移る庭の色よ何を梢の冬に殘さん
| katsuoshimu nagame mo utsuru niwa no iro yo nani o kozue no fuyu ni nokosan |
A slight regret I feel, as My gaze shifts With the garden’s hues; What of the treetops Will remain in winter? |
485
Right.
散り積もる紅葉かき分來て見れば色さへ深き山路なりけり
| chiritsumoru momiji kakiwake kitemireba iro sae fukaki yamaji narikeri |
Fallen in drifts, Forging through the scarlet leaves I come, and see The depth of colour laid Upon the mountain paths. |
486
The Right state that the Left’s poem is lacking in conception [kokoro yukazu]. The Left respond that the Right’s poem, as in the previous round, is old-fashioned in both conception and diction [kokoro kotoba onaji yō ni furumekashi].
Shunzei’s judgement: The Left’s poem does seem to have some conception about it, despite the Right’s criticism of this as lacking. Although the Right’s ‘depths of colour’ (iro sae fukaki) appears easy to grasp, again, the round should tie.
Winter I: 2
Left.
いかばかり散積もればか大井河流れもやらぬ紅葉なるらむ
| ika bakari chiritsumoreba ka ōikawa nagare mo yaranu momiji naruramu |
How many Have fallen altogether upon Ōi River? That its flow is stopped With scarlet leaves… |
483
Right.
紅に關の小川は成にけり音羽の山に紅葉散るらし
| kurenai ni seki no ogawa wa narinikeri otowa no yama ni momiji chirurashi |
Scarlet Has the stream by the barrier Become. On Otowa Mountain The leaves must be falling… |
484
The Right state that the Left’s use of –ba ka is grating on the ear [kikinikushi], and query whether saying the ‘flow is stopped’ (nagare mo yaranu) is appropriate. The Left simply say the Right’s poem ‘seems old-fashioned’ [furumekashi].
Shunzei’s judgement: The diction used in the Left’s poem, -ba ka, is simply old-fashioned, and the Right’s criticism is misplaced [sama de arubekarazu]. In addition, I am dubious of their criticism of the latter part of the poem. A somewhat pretentious use of ‘falling leaves’, perhaps? In the Right’s poem, it is inappropriate to combine ‘Otowa Mountain’, ‘stream by the barrier’ and –rashi [because it is an archaic word]. It certainly does not resemble, for example, ‘Mountain dwellings of the gods scarlet leaves look to be falling’ (mimuro no yama ni momiji chirurashi). In addition, ‘Scarlet has the stream by the barrier become’, would mean an excessive fall of leaves, indeed! The Left’s ba ka should win.
Autumn III: 19
Left.
女郎花まだきに霜をいたゞきて盛り過ぬる氣色なる哉
| ominaeshi madaki ni shimo o itadakite morisuginuru keshiki naru kana |
Upon the maidenflowers Already has frost Fallen, so Past their prime They look, indeed! |
457
Right (Win).
もみぢ葉はをのが染たるいろぞかしよそげに置ける今朝の霜かな
| momijiba wa ono ga sometaru iro zo kashi yosoge ni okeru kesa no shimo kana |
The autumn leaves – ‘Tis you have stained Them with your hue! Indifferently falling Frost-flakes in the morning… |
458
The Right have no criticisms to make of the Left’s poem this round. The Left wonder about the appropriateness of ‘indifferently falling’ (yosoge ni okeru).
Shunzei’s judgement: The Left saying that on ‘maidenflowers frost falling’ (ominaeshi shimo o itadaki) would put them past their prime seems pointless [sada ni oyobazaru ka]. In addition the final ‘they look, indeed’ (keshiki naru kana) seems feeble [chikara naki]. The Right’s style is intriguing [fūtei kyō arite]. I must make it the winner.
Autumn III: 7
Left (Win).
舟止めぬ人はあらじな泉川柞の杜に紅葉しつれば
| funa tomenu hito wa araji na izumigawa hahaso no mori ni momiji shitsureba |
Not pausing the boat – No one would when Izumi River By the oak grove’s Scarlet leaves is stained… |
433
Right.
柞原染むる時雨もある物をしばしな吹きそ木枯らしの風
| hahasowara somuru shigure mo aru mono o shibashi na fuki so kogarashi no kaze |
The oak trees are being Stained by showers And so For just a while blow not, O, withering wind! |
434
As the previous round.
Shunzei’s judgement: The style [fūtei] of both poems is such that neither has an particular points worth criticising, or praising either. However, the Right’s ‘blow not’ (na fuki so) seems insufficient. The Left wins.
Autumn III: 4
Left (Win).
色變へぬ松の緑に這ふ蔦はをのが紅葉を譲る也けり
| iro kaenu matsu no midori ni hau tsuta wa ono ga momiji o yuzuru narikeri |
The unchanging hue of The pine tree’s green, Entwined with ivy: Its own scarlet leaves It has surrendered… |
427
Right.
色變へぬ松の緑もなかりけりかゝれる蔦や紅葉しつらん
| iro kaenu matsu no midori mo nakarikeri kakareru tsuta ya momiji shitsuran |
The unchanging hue of The pine tree’s green, too, Has gone: Has the festooning ivy Turned scarlet? |
428
The Right wonder about the appropriateness of ‘green entwined’ (midori ni hau), adding that ‘entwined with ivy’ (hau tsuta) also sounds unpleasant [kikiyokarazu]. The Left simply say that the Right’s poem is plainly pedestrian [rei no tsune no koto nari], but have no other criticisms.
Shunzei’s judgement: Although both Left and Right begin with ‘unchanging hue’ (iro kaenu) and there is little to distinguish between them, the Left’s ‘its own scarlet leaves’ (ono ga momiji o) is charmingly poetic style [okashikarubeki yō no fūtei nari]. The Right’s ‘festooning ivy’ (kakareru tsuta) appears as if the poet cannot distinguish between the two plants, which is foolish [orokanarubeshi]. What is there to the criticism of ‘entwined with ivy’? Thus, the Left wins.
Autumn III: 3
Left.
下枝までかゝれる蔦は紅葉して錦を張るは和田の笠松
| shizue made kakareru tsuta wa momijishite nishiki o haru wa wada no kasamatsu |
The lowest branches All festooned with ivy Turning scarlet, All in brocade are The parasol pines at Wada. |
425
Right (Win).
絶え間なくかゝれる蔦の色づけば紅葉を囲ふ墻根とぞみる
| taema naku kakareru tsuta no irozukeba momiji o kakou kakine to zo miru |
There’s not a break In the festooning ivy, Taking on its hue: Enveloped with scarlet leaves Fenced around, it seems… |
The Provisional Master of the Empress’ Household Office.
426
The Right state that the initial line in the Left’s poem, ‘the lowest branches’ (shizue made), fail to connect with the poem’s conclusion. The Left state that the Right’s poem is ‘pedestrian’ [tsune no koto], but have no other criticisms.
Shunzei’s judgement: Both poems are on ‘ivy’, with the Left referring to parasol pines covered in brocade, and the Right a fence joined with scarlet leaves. In conception, neither is unpleasant [kokoro, onoono, okashikarazaru ni arazu]. However, the final section of the Left’s poem is seems to be particularly lacking in poetic qualities [kotoni utashina naki ni nitari]. It would have been better had the Right avoided the artifice of the Left’s festooned parasols [kasahari nado wa sede] and simply mentioned ‘a fence, seemingly surrounded with scarlet leaves’ [momiji o kakouran kakine]. Nevertheless, it should win.
Autumn III: 1
Left.
常盤の茂みを染むる蔦の色のかゝらざりさば下紅葉やは
| tokiwa no shigemi o somuru tsuta no iro no kakarazarisaba shita momiji ya wa |
The evergreen Profusion is dyed By the ivy’s hues: Were it not, Would not the under-leaves turn scarlet? |
421
Right.
散ぬより紅葉に辿る山路かな岩根の蔦や色變るらむ
| chiranu yori momiji ni tadoru yamaji kana iwane no tsuta ya iro kawaruramu |
Not yet fallen are The scarlet leaves – to track Along the mountain paths, Does the ivy at the rooted crags Change its hue? |
422
The Right state that by continuing with ‘Profusion is dyed’ (shigemi o somuru) it sounds as if it is the evergreens themselves which are taking on autumn colours. The Left merely remark that saying ‘track’ (tadoru) is difficult to comprehend [kokoroegatashi].
Shunzei’s judgement: Is the Left’s poem that bad [ashiku ya wa], given that ‘Profusion is dyed’ is followed by ‘the ivy’s hues’ (tsuta no iro no)? The final section, though, is lacking and seems rather vague. I, too, wonder about the use of ‘track’. The round ties.