kyō made mo kozue wa fuyu no iro nagara kozo ni wa kawaru yuki no shitagusa
Until today The treetops winter’s Hues did hold, but With the change to the year before Grasses grow up ‘neath the snow.
Lord Yasusue 173
Right
くれはどりあやにながめのなりゆくかみどりの空にあそぶいとゆふ
kurehadori aya ni nagame no nariyuku ka midori no sora ni asobu itoyū
A chequered Pattern–when I gaze out how strange It becomes: In the verdant skies Sports heat haze…
The Minister of the Centre 174
Although it sounds a bit difficult to grasp the sense of the Left’s ‘grasses ‘neath the snow with the change to the year before’, there’s nothing wrong with composing about grasses growing beneath fallen snow, so the configuration is pleasant. The Right’s poem, too, has no faults to mention, so this round, too, should tie.
itama yori nezame no toko ni moru tsuki o koishiki hito to omowamashikaba
Between the boards, Waking me in my bed Drips moonlight— The man I love If only it did more than bring to mind…
Lord Dainagon 29
Right
くれはどりふたむらやまをきて見ればめもあやにこそ月も見えけれ
kurehadori futamurayama o kite mireba me mo aya ni koso tsuki mo miekere
When the weave of twilight Upon Futamura Mountain One comes to see, Another pattern fills the eye— Bright moonlight.
Lord Chūnagon 30
The poem of the Left has an extremely refined configuration, but is lacking much of a conception of the moon, and has a much greater one of love. The poem of the Right has a moving conception, but it is about scarlet leaves that one says ‘another pattern fills the eye’. There have been no compositions to date utilizing this about the moon. As both poems have dubious elements, I feel they are of the same quality.
I must say that the initial section of the poem of the Left, ‘between the boards’, is something that not even the poets of bygone days placed at the beginning of their poems. I would say that such expressions as ‘between the boards of a ruined house’ sound blended, implying that the appearance within is fine. Perhaps the poet mistook this? In addition, I do not feel that this is a moon poem, and would have to say that it’s a love one. It really is very odd, isn’t it—suddenly including a love poem here. The poem of the Right has nothing about it worth mentioning, yet it appears to be a moon poem superficially. There’s nothing for it but, faced with the poem of the Left, which beats the hastiest of hasty retreats and ignores the essential meaning of the topic, but to make it the winner!
