On a personal grievance and picking fresh herbs.
わかなおふるはるののもりに我なりてうき世を人につみしらせばや
wakana ouru
haruno no mori ni
ware narite
ukiyo o hito ni
tsumi shiraseba ya | For fresh herbs growing
On the plains in springtime a warder
Have I become—
That this world is cruel, to folk
Garnering sins, I would let them know! |
23
雨ふれど猶もえわたる早蕨や春のやくののしるしなるらん
ame furedo
nao moewataru
sawarabi ya
haruno yakuno no
shirushi naruran | The rain has fallen, yet
Still smouldering into bud
Is fresh bracken that
The plains in spring are burnt
A sign, perhaps? |
[Minamoto no] Morotoki 師時
かすが野にけぶりたつみゆをとめごしはるののおはぎつみてくるらし
kasugano ni
keburi tatsu miyu
otomego shi
haruno no ohagi
tsumitekururashi | Above Kasuga Plain
I see the smoke a’rising;
The maidens
To the springtime fields asters
A’picking have come, it seems! |
'Simply moving and elegant'
