さらぬだになみだのかかる我袖をかくれぬらしぞ道芝の露
| saranu dani namida no kakaru wa ga sode o kakurenurashi zo michishiba no tsuyu | ‘Tis not that Tears hanging on My sleeves have Secretly drenched them—‘tis Dewdrops from the roadside grasses. |
The Minister of Justice
43
I don’t think this is particularly moving; the conjecture is brief, and the greater than normal pivot is lacking in realism.
Left
人待ちし庭の淺茅生茂りあひて心にならす道芝の露
| hito machishi niwa no asajū shigeriaite kokoro ni narasu michishiba no tsuyu |
Awaiting him, The cogon-grass in my garden Has grown lush, indeed; And I have taken to my heart The dew that falls upon my lawn! |
A Servant Girl
1029
Right (Win)
秋風になびく淺茅の色よりもかはるは人の心なりけり
| akikaze ni nabiku asaji no iro yori mo kawaru wa hito no kokoro narikeri |
With the autumn wind Waves the cogon grass, Colours Changing less than her Heart’s passions… |
Ietaka
1030
The Gentlemen of the Right state: the Left’s poem has no faults to mention. The Gentlemen of the Left state: the intial part of the Right’s poem is derived from an old poem, and so does the end!
In judgement: I wonder whether the cogon-grass (asajū), mentioned initially, is as clearly conceived as the ‘lawn’ (michishiba) mentioned at the end? The Right’s poem refers to ‘So full are my thoughts, what am I to do? With the autumn wind’, but reverses the beginning and end of that poem; it is extremely old-fashioned in style, but pleasant as it is plainly intended to be understood as a variant of its model. Thus, the Right wins over the combination of ‘cogon-grass’ and ‘lawn’.
Left.
ひとり寢の袖の名殘の朝じめり日影に消えぬ露もありけり
| hitorine no sode no nagori no asajimeri hikage ni kienu tsuyu mo arikeri |
Sleeping solo My sleeves remain Damp in the morning; The sunlight leaves untouched The dewfall there. |
A Servant Girl.
803
Right (Win).
道芝を分けて露けき袖ならば濡れても暮を待たまし物を
| michishiba o wakete tsuyukeki sode naraba nuretemo kure mo matamashi mono o |
If the roadside grasses, Have brushed dewfall On these sleeves, May to dampen them again, ‘til evening I would wish to wait… |
Ietaka.
804
The Right state: we find no faults in the Left’s poem. The Left state: there is a very recent poem, ‘If he would be wet with waves should surely wait for evening?’.
In judgement: simply saying, ‘Sleeping solo my sleeves remain damp in the morning’ (hitorine no sode no nagori no asajimeri) seems to lack the conception of love. I wonder who might have written the ‘recent poem’, ‘If he would be wet with waves should surely wait for evening?’ mentioned by the Right? How, indeed, can we avoid poems which are not in the anthologies? In any case, the poem here is ‘May to dampen them again, ‘til evening I would wish to wait’ and the initial line is different. This level of resemblance between poems is not uncommon. The Right’s poem is pleasant. It should win.