Only the date of this contest remains, along with two of its poems. Given the season, it would clearly have been an autumn-themed event and, as the 15th day of the Eighth Month was when conventionally the moon was at its brightest, it is not surprising that it seems to have been held at night, and contained at least some poems where the moon was a theme.
Of the two surviving poems, one was included in Fubokushō (XIV: 5840), while the other is only recorded here.
isonokami Furu no yasiro ni haFu kuzu mo aki ni shi nareba iro kaFarikeri
In Isonokami At the ancient shrine of Furu Even the creeping kudzu vine When the autumn comes Does change its hues.
yama no Fa mo momidite tirinu tukikage no kakururu tokoro nakunarinubesi
Along the mountains’ edge Scarlet leaves have scattered In the moonlight A place concealed Is there none, at all.
Left and Right together state: we find no faults to mention.
In judgement: While there are such things in the heart of the mountains as ‘crags where seeds grow into pines’ (tane aru iwa ni ouru matsu), it is normally by the sea or on rocky coastlines that one finds firmly rooted pine trees. Surely, mountain pines are but lightly rooted? Cedars on River Hatsuse recollects ‘Nor will I ever; a solid brick-kiln’ (wasurezu yo kawaraya), but ‘You vowed it, did you not’ (chigirikina) also reminds me of the old phrase ‘Both our sleeves wringing out’ (katami ni sode o shiboritsutsu), which is most fine. Thus, the Right wins.
In judgement: both poems seem equal in expression, but the quality of the lower section of the Left’s poem is extremely poor, so I make the Right’s ‘from underneath the moss leaks’ (koke no shita moru) the winner.