mushi no ne wa mada oru to shimo kikoenu o karanishiki ni mo miyuru mono kana
The insects’ songs Yet weave and even though I hear them not As Cathay brocade Does all appear!
15a
むしのねはまだおるとしもきこえぬをからにしきにもみゆるのべかな
mushi no ne wa mada oru to shimo kikoenu o karanishiki ni mo miyuru nobe kana
The insects’ songs Yet weave and even though I hear them not As Cathay brocade Do the meadows appear!
15b
Right
きる人をのべやしるらんふぢばかまいたづらにのみつゆのおきつつ
kiru hito o nobe ya shiruran fujibakama itazura ni nomi tsuyu no okitsutsu
Folk wearing them Do the meadows know, perhaps? For upon these violet trousers In mischief alone Does the dew keep falling!
16
Rani is a generic term for ‘orchid’ but in waka it was usually equated with eupatorium (a type of aster), which was also called fujibakama, the literal meaning of which was ‘wisteria [coloured] trousers’.
kaminazuki tabi yuku hito mo izuku ni ka tachikakurubeki shigure moru yama
In the Godless Month For folk gone travelling Is there anywhere To hide themselves away, As the showers drip down on Mount Moru?
Lady Shinano 17
Right
くらぶ山いかがこゆべき神無月木の葉とともにしぐれ降るなり
kurabuyama ikaga koyubeki kaminazuki ko no ha to tomo ni shigure furu nari
Over gloomy Mount Kurabu How can I find my way across? In the Godless Month Together with the leaves from the trees A shower is falling…
Lord Nobutada 18
Toshiyori states: in the first poem, I do not feel that travelling is a natural continuation from ‘Godless Month’. ‘Is there anywhere’, too, does not sound smooth, does it. As for the second poem, if one mentions ‘gloomy Mount Kurabu’ and then follows it with ‘How can I find my way across?’, one should give a reason for the expression, whether it be because it’s gloomy, or because the sun is going down, otherwise it’s also unclear why one should be having difficulties crossing the mountain. If one is grieved by the falling leaves, then the poem sounds more like an ‘Scarlet Leaves’ one, and this is unreasonable. These both look to be about the same.
Mototoshi states: ‘showers drip down on Mount Moru’ is a bit better than ‘gloomy Mount Kurabu’, isn’t it. I feel it’s only logical that there should be no shadows in which one could hide oneself away.
samo koso wa maki no mayabuki usukarame moru bakari ni mo utsu shigure kana
Truly, A roof of cedar boughs Seems scanty, for It simply leaks when Struck by a shower!
Lord Morotoshi 11
Right (T – Win)
木の葉のみ染むるかとこそおもひしに時雨は人のみにしみにけり
ko no ha nomi somuru ka to koso omoishi ni shigure wa hito no mi ni shiminikeri
‘Is it the leaves upon the trees alone It dyes?’ I wondered once, but A shower on folk’s Flesh does leave a mark…
Lord Masamitsu 12
Toshiyori states: the first poem deliberately starts with ‘A roof of cedar boughs’ and then concludes with ‘Struck by a shower’ which is vague. It does sound like the poet might have had ‘the lonely sighing sound of rain beating against my window’ in mind when composing. In any case, this is something which would have been better avoided. If he wished to compose on this sort of thing, and had done so without this element, then the poem would not be unpleasant. As for the Right, well, this does sound somewhat scanty! Still, what kind of colour might the poet’s flesh be marked? If it was the colour of the leaves, then this would be pretentious, wouldn’t it. If he wanted to refer to the hue of the wind in the pines, then why didn’t he say so? As a composition about a shower, though, this sounds slightly better.
Mototoshi states: having such a thin roof of cedar boughs struck by a passing shower feels frightening for the people under it. At the beginning of the world, rain as thick as axles fell, I hear—what a terrifying shower that must have been! The expression ‘rain beating against my window’ occurs in a poem from Cathay, referring, it seems, to rain blown by the wind horizontally striking one’s fence. Thus, it does sound extremely moving to compose about rains striking one’s window and keeping one awake, but, then again, while it’s certainly true that showers dye the treetops on the mountains in all directions, what sort of mark would they leave on a person’s flesh? It sounds like the old tale of the well-warden’s sign, doesn’t it! This round, both poems are about the same.
nanigoto o akenu kurenu to isoguramu hakanaki yume no yo to wa shirushiru
What is it that makes Dawn and dusk Come so fast? A fleeting dream is This world—that I know so well.
Lord Shigenori 111
Right (Win)
かずならぬみをうきくさとおもへどもなぞよとともにしづむなるらむ
kazu naranu mi o ukikusa to omoedomo nazo yo to tomo ni shizumu naruramu
Not even numbered among folk, so Pitiful am I—a floating duckweed Am I, I feel yet, Why, over such a time Should I sink into the depths?
Lord Morikata 112
The Left’s poem expresses grief over the nature of the mundane world and finds a reason for this in the realisation that all is lost within a fleeting dream. The configuration of the Right poem’s ‘Should I sink into the depths?’ is not particularly elegant, yet placing ‘Pitiful am I—a floating duckweed’ first and then following this with ‘Should I sink into the depths?’ is charming, I have to say. The Right should win.
aware to ya kami mo omowamu suminoe no fukaku tanomi o kakuru mi nareba
‘How sad,’ does The God, too, think? For at Suminoe Deep in devotions Am I entangled…
Lord Tsunemori 105
Right
たのみつるこのひとむらの人ごとにちとせをゆづれすみよしのまつ
tanomitsuru kono hitomura no hito goto ni chitose o yuzure sumiyoshi no matsu
Devoted are This group of folk, so To each and every one Grant a thousand years, O, pines of Sumiyoshi!
Lord Yorisuke 106
The poem of the Left, saying ‘deep in devotions’ and suchlike, is pleasant, I have to say. Does the poem of the Right’s ‘this group of folk’ refer to the current poets or to the speaker’s own household? Well, whichever it is, the conception of devotion does not appear to be slight, but again I say this is a tie.