Left
秋すぐとねをもなくかなふか草のかげとたのめるむしならなくに
| aki sugu to ne o mo naku kana fukakusa no kage to tanomeru mushi naranaku ni | ‘Autumn passes by!’ Goes the cry—though Upon the deep grasses’ Shade relying Are there no insects at all… |
29
Right
いづかたに心をやらんあかずしてすぎゆく秋ををしみとどめで
| izukata ni kokoro o yaran akazushite sugiyuku aki o oshimi todomede | Whither Should I incline my heart? Unsatisfied, With autumn’s passing Regrets linger on… |
30
Warblers
ふかくさの谷のうぐひす春ごとにあはれむかしと音をのみぞなく
| fukakusa no tani no uguisu haru goto ni awaremu kashi to ne o nomi zo naku | In Fukakusa’s grass-filled Valleys the warbler Every springtime, Longing for bygone days Simply sings his song. |
Composed when the Horikawa Grand Minister had died, after the cremation on Mount Fukakusa was over.
深草の野辺の桜し心あらばことし許はすみぞめに咲け
| Fukakusa no nobe no sakura si kokoro araba kotosi bakari Fa sumizome ni sake |
At Fukakusa In the meadows, had the cherry trees Any heart at all, For just this year Would they bloom in charcoal hues. |
Kamutsuke no Mineo
上野岑雄
Left.
さびしさの始とぞ見る朝まだきはだれ霜降る小野の篠原
| sabishisa no hajime to zo miru asa madaki hadarejimo furu ono no shinohara |
The loneliness Has begun, I feel, Early in the morning, with The dusting frost On the arrow bamboo groves… |
549
Right (Win).
朝戸明けて都の辰巳眺むれば雪の梢や深草の里
| asado akete miyako no tatsumi nagamureba yuki no kozue ya fukakusa no sato |
Opening my door one morning, and South-east of the capital Turning my gaze, The snow-laden treetops recall The depths of the estate at Fukakusa. |
The Provisional Master of the Empress’ Household Office.
550
Both teams say the other’s poem ‘isn’t bad’ [ashikaranu].
Shunzei’s judgement: Although I feel that this topic of ‘Winter Mornings’ should express the conception of the latter half of winter [fuyu no nakaba sugitaru kokoro], the Left’s poem sounds like one from the beginning of winter, and I wonder about that. ‘South-east of the capital’ (miyako no tatsumi) is taken from the poem by Kisen on Mt Uji, which states ‘South east of the Capital, and so I dwell’ (miyako no tatsumi sika zo sumu). This conception [kokoro] of being there and ‘gazing south-east of the capital’ (miyako no tatsumi nagamureba) to the Fukakusa Estate, is charming [okashiku haberu]. Snow on the treetops in the morning, too, sounds pleasant [yoroshiku kikoyu]. Thus, the Right should win.
Left (Tie).
明方に夜はなりぬとや菅原や伏見の田居に鴫ぞ立ちける
| akekata ni yo wa narinu to ya sugawara ya fushimi no tai ni shigi zo tachikeru |
Is it that dawn Has come to break the night, That from the sedge-lined Fields of Fushimi The snipe have started? |
403
Right.
明ぬるか鴫の羽がき閨過ぎて袖に月もる深草の里
| akenuru ka shigi no hanegaki neya sugite sode ni tsuki moru fukakusa no sato |
Has dawn come? The snipe’s wingbeats Cross my bedchamber, Sleeves lit by lonely moonlight In the overgrown depths of Fukakusa… |
404
The Right state, ‘There is no precedent for the addition of “fields” (tai) to “sedge-lined Fushimi” (sugawara ya fushimi). In addition, using ya at the end of both the second and third lines is grating on the ear.’ The Left merely remark, ‘“Fukakusa” is now, perhaps more commonly associated with quail.”
Shunzei’s judgement: ‘In regard to the Right’s poem, although one would really like there to be a precedent, and there are doubtless rice fields in “sedge-lined Fushimi”, I do still feel that “fields” here is a little outre, is it not? While the Left’s “sleeved lit by lonely moonlight” (sode ni tsuki moru) is superlative, I would prefer “quail” to be associated with “Fukakusa”. If snipe call for a place name, it is not Fukakusa, but Yamada, I would think. Both poems are excellent, but with faults, and for this reason the round ties.’
Left.
夏草の野嶋が崎の朝霧を分てぞ來つる萩の葉の摺り
| natsukusa no nojima ga saki no asagiri o wakete zo kitsuru hagi no ha no suri |
Summer grass grows high On Nojima Point; Through the morning mists Have I come forging, Robes patterned with bush-clover leaves. |
197
Right (Win).
茂き野と夏もなりゆく深草の里はうづらの鳴かぬばかりぞ
| shigekino to natsu mo nariyuku fukakusa no sato wa uzura no nakanu bakari zo |
Ever thicker grow the grasses and With the summer’s passing, too, At Fukakusa – deep within the greenery – The quails Let out not a cry – that’s all… |
198
The Right have no criticisms to make of the Left’s poem. The Left, however, say, ‘Using “summer’s passing, too” (natsu mo) appears to suggest a foundation upon something definite. What is it, however?’ The Right reply, ‘As the source poem is “A quail I shall become and cry” (udura to narite nakiworan), the impression given is of Autumn. Thus, “summer’s passing, too”.’
Shunzei judges, ‘The Left’s poem has as its final line, “Robes patterned with bush-clover leaves” (hagi no ha no suri), and before it, where one would expect to find the reason why the poet is forging across Nojima Point, is only “summer grass” (natsukusa no). This is repetitive. The Right’s poem, though, commencing with “ever thicker grasses” (shigeki no) is particularly fine in terms of configuration [sugata yoroshiki ni nitari]. Thus, it is the winner, this round.’
Left (Tie).
雪折の竹の下道跡もなし荒れにしのちの深草の里
| yuki ore no take no shitamichi ato mo nashi arenishi nochi no fukakusa no sato |
Snow-snapped Bamboo trails Bear no tracks After the storm At the estate of Fukakusa. |
95
Right
大伴の御津の濱風吹はらへ松とも見えじうづむ白雪
| ōtomo no mitsu no hama kaze fukiharae matsu tomo mieji uzumu shirayuki |
In Ōtomo Upon the beach at Mitsu, wind, Blow clean The pines, for they seem unlike themselves, Buried in drifted snow. |
96