Tag Archives: dawning

Nishinomiya uta’awase 05

Stags and the Dawn

Round Five

Left

暁になりやしぬらん小倉山なく鹿のねに月かたぶきぬ

akatsuki ni
nari ya shinuran
ogurayama
naku shika no ne ni
tsuki katabukinu
Is the dawning
On its way, I wonder?
On gloomy Mount Ogura
Crying, a stag bell out
As the moon sets.

Mototoshi, Former Assistant Captain in the Palace Guards, Left Division
9

Right

暁や声高砂になく鹿をほのかにやきく沖の舟人

akatsuki ya
koe takasago ni
naku shika o
honoka ni ya kiku
oki no funabito
At the dawning
From the heights, the bell, at Takasago
Of a stag
Is faintly heard, perhaps,
By the boatmen on the offing…

Head
10

The Left’s poem lacks any superlative diction, yet does not appear to have any glaring faults either. As for the Right’s poem, I do question the placement of ‘at’ in ‘at the dawning’ and, in addition, the order seems reversed in ‘From the heights, the bell, at Takasago / Of a stag’—so much so that I find it difficult to grasp the sense. If the poem had been composed to put ‘stag’ before ‘heights of Takasago’, the poem would feel more trustworthy, wouldn’t it.

Yōzei’in miko futari uta’awase 13

Left

ゆふざれもさらにまたれずあさぼらけおきゆくみちのつゆとけぬべし

yūzare mo
sara ni matarezu
asaborake
okiyuku michi no
tsuyu to kenubeshi
For eventide,
Again, I cannot wait, but
At the dawning
Rise and go—my path filled
With lasting dew, it seems.

24

Right

あはぬよはわびてもねにきあかつきのわかれのみちはまどはれぞする

awanu yo wa
wabite mo ne ni ki
akatsuki no
wakare no michi wa
madoware zo suru
Nights we fail to meet
Are desolate, but when I have come and slept with you
The dawn’s
Parting path
Leaves me lost!

25

GSIS XII: 701

Composed when the Naka Chancellor [Fujiwara no Michitaka] returned from another woman’s residence with the dawn, but rather than coming in, remained outside and went back to his own house.

暁のつゆはまくらにおきけるを草葉のうへとなにおもひけん

akatuki no
tuyu Fa makura ni
okikeru wo
kusaba no uFe to
nani omoFiken
At the dawning
Dewdrops upon my pillow
Have fallen, but
Resting atop a blade of grass—
Is that what you think of me? [1]

The Kō Handmaid

A kuzushiji version of the poem's text.
Created with Soan.

[1] An allusive variation on Izumi shikibu-shū 304/Mandaishū XVIII: 3559.

Winter II: 14

Left.

山人の便りなりとも岡邊なる椎の小枝は折ずもあらなむ

yamabito no
tayori naritomo
okabenaru
shii no koyade wa
orazu mo aranamu
For the mountain folk
Essential they may be, but
Upon the hillside
The brushwood branches
I would have them leave unbroken…

Kenshō.

567

Right.

山深く賤の折りたく椎柴の音さへ寒き朝ぼらけかな

yama fukaku
shizu no oritaku
shiishiba no
oto sae samuki
asaborake kana
Deep within the mountains
Woodsmen break and burn
The brushwood;
That sound brings the chill
To me this dawning…

Ietaka.

568

The Right wonder what the intention is in the Left’s poem of regretting the breakage of ‘brushwood branches’. The Left say that the Right’s poem, ‘recalls a famous poem by one of the other gentlemen of the Right.’

Shunzei’s judgement: Simply using the old-fashioned koyade in place of the more current shiishiba does not improve the sound of the poem, I think. Starting ‘Deep within the mountains’ (yama fukaku) and then continuing ‘Woodsmen break and burn’ (shizu no oritaku) – is this supposed to convey the conception of felling trees [shiba o koru kokoro ni ya]? I hardly think that if one lived in the mountains, the sound of trees being cut and burnt would make one feel the chill. The diction of ‘deep within the mountains’ does not seem appropriate [‘yama fukaku’ no kotoba, kanai mo sezaru]. Given that it does sound old-fashioned, koyade does not sound like a winner, either. The poems are of equal quality.