On the wind in the pines, for the Poetry Match at the Kasuga Shrine.
なにとなくきけば涙ぞこぼれけるこけのたもとにかよふ松かぜ
| nani to naku kikeba namida zo koborekeru koke no tamoto ni kayou matsukaze | For some reason When I hear it, my tears Overflow Over my sleeves of moss Brushes the pine-touched wind. |
Gishūmon’in no Tango
From the poetry contest in 1500 rounds.
見ぬ人をまつの木かげの苔むしろ猶敷島ややまとなでしこ
| minu hito o matsu no kokage no kokemushiro nao shikishima ya yamato nadeshiko | For a man unseen She pines in the shadow of the trees On a mossy bed for Her coverlet, the isles that make Yamato – a pink! |
Kūnaikyō, in service to Former Emperor Gotoba
Left
戀死なば苔むす塚に栢古りてもとの契に朽ちやはてなん
| koi shinaba kokemusu tsuka ni kae furite moto no chigiri ni kuchi ya hatenan |
Should I have died of love and Upon my moss-hung tomb An aged cypress be Would those vows from long ago Have rotted quite away? |
Lord Sada’ie
1035
Right (Win)
かくばかり思と君も白樫に知らじな色に出でばこそあらめ
| kaku bakari omou to kimi mo shirakashi ni shiraji na iro ni ideba koso arame |
That so much I long for you, Evergreen, You know not; for what hues Might I show? |
The Supernumerary Master of the Empress Household Office
1036
The Gentlemen of the Right state: ‘tomb’ (tsuka) and ‘cypress’ (kae) are frightening. The Gentlemen of the Left state: ‘evergreen’ (kashi) is the same, is it not?
In judgement: What might ‘upon my moss-hung tomb an aged cypress be’ (kokemusu tsuka ni kae furite) mean? Maybe the poet had in mind the part of the Scribe’s Records, where Duke Wen of Jin, on parting from his wife in Di, says, ‘If you wait for me for twenty-five years and I have still not returned, then marry again,’ but his wife laughs and says, ‘After ageing for twenty-five years, a cypress will be growing upon my tomb!’ The Right’s ‘evergreen’ (shirakashi) must simply serve to introduce to ‘you know not; for what hues might I show?’ (shiraji na iro ni ideba koso arame). However, both ‘cypress’ (kae) and ‘evergreen’ (kashi) lack admirable qualities. The round should tie.
Left.
わが中を布留の荒田とうち捨て誰にゆきあひの早稲作らん
| wa ga naka o furu no arada to uchisutete tare ni yukiai no wase tukuran |
Our love As the overgrown fields at Furu Has been abandoned; Who do you go to now, To grow fresh seedlings? |
Kenshō
773
Right (Win).
山深み苔の下もる谷水や年経る恋の涙なるらん
| yama fukami koke no shita moru tanimizu ya toshi heru koi no namida naruran |
Deep within the mountains From underneath the moss leaks Water to the valleys; Enduring through the years are my love’s Tears… |
Ietaka
774
Both teams say the poems have no fault.
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.
Left (Win).
忍つゝこの世盡きなば思ふこと苔の下にや共に朽なん
| shinobitsutsu kono yo tsukinaba omou koto koke no shita ni ya tomo ni kuchinan |
Continually concealing: Should this world end, then My love for you Beneath the moss, With me, would rot away… |
623
Right.
あくがるゝ心の誰が床に行てあやむばかりの夢に見ゆらん
| akugaruru kokoro no tare ga toko ni yukite ayamu bakari no yume ni miyuran |
Summoned My heart to someone’s Bed does go; Simply a strange Dream, would she see? |
624
The Gentlemen of both Left and Right state: the final section of the other team’s poem is not bad.
Shunzei’s judgement: while I feel that the conception and diction of both poems seems fine [sugata kotoba yoroshiku miehaberu], the Right’s heart, flitting off to someone quite plainly, seems rather frivolous. The Left’s ‘beneath the moss’ (koke no shita ni ya) closely resembles the conception of the topic. It should win.
Left.
見るに猶住まゝほしきは色いろに蔦這ふ小屋のよそめ也けり
| miru ni nao sumamahoshiki wa iroiro ni tsuta hau koya no yosome narikeri |
Gazing, again Would I dwell there: Many-hued Ivy creeping round the hut, Seen from afar. |
423
Right (Win).
年を經て苔に埋るゝ古寺の簷に秋ある蔦の色かな
| toshi o hete koke ni mumoruru furu tera no noki ni aki aru tsuta no iro kana |
The years pass by and, Buried in moss, The ancient temple’s Eaves in autumn take On ivy’s hues… |
424
The Right say, ‘If by Koya the Left means the place Koya in the Province of Tsu, there are no other connections in the poem. If, however, it is just referring to a hut (koya), we wonder about that composition [sayō ni mo yomamu ni ya].’ The Left respond, ‘It is perfectly normal when referring to a hut, to just have “hut” in the poem! In the Right’s poem, though, “Buried, the ancient temple” (mumoruru furu tera) sounds unpleasant [kikiyokarazu].’
Shunzei’s judgement: In the Left’s poem, if it is not referring to Koya in the Province of Tsu, I have no recollection of it being normal to just refer to a hut in a poem. Even if there was an earlier poem for evidence of this, the word ‘hut’ has no connections within anything in this poem, either. The Right’s ‘buried in moss’ (koke ni mumoruru) is splendid [yū ni koso habere]. As for ‘ancient temple’ (furu tera), although it is splendid in Chinese poetry to write [shi ni kaku wa yū ni haberedo] phrases like ‘the ancient temple, situated on the mountaintop’, this is not particularly elegant in waka [uta ni wa en narazaru]. However, besides the use of koya being poor, ‘eaves in autumn’ (noki ni aki aru) sounds charming [okashiku kikoyu]. The Right must win.
Left (Tie).
いく世へぬかざし折けんいにしへに三輪の檜原の苔の通路
| ikuyo henu kazashi oriken inishie ni miwa no hihara no koke no kayoiji |
How many ages passed? Twigs plucked and placed in hair, Long ago In Miwa’s cypress groves, Along the moss-covered paths… |
163
Right
見ずしらずうづもれぬ名の跡やこれたなびき渡る夕暮の雲
| mizu shirazu uzumorenu na no ato ya kore tanabiki wataru yūgure no sora |
Unseen, unknown, Of an everlasting name This the only trace, Trailing across The evening sky? |
164