akenbono wa namida ya moroki hototogisu naku ne ni otsuru mori no shitazuyu
With the dawn Are you swiftly to tears moved By the cuckoo’s Calling cries, falling from The forest drip dewdrops?
Dōchin 39
Right
今もかも昔やこふる橘の花ちる里になく郭公
ima mo kamo mukashi ya kouru tachibana no hana chiru sato ni naku hototogisu
I wonder, is she now, As in days gone by, beloved Where orange Blossom falls on the estate— The calling cuckoo?[1]
Dharma Master Nyokan 40
Both Left and Right are of the same quality, yet I wonder about the sound of the Right poem’s final section, so the Left wins.
[1] An allusive variation on: A poem by the Governor-General of Dazai, Lord Ōtomo. 橘の花散る里の霍公鳥片恋しつつ鳴く日しぞ多き tachibana no / hana chiru sato no / hototogisu / kata koishitsutsu / naku hi shi zo ōki ‘Orange / Blossom scatters round my estate where / The cuckoo / For unrequited love / Does cry on many a day…’ Ōtomo no Tabito (MYS VIII: 1473)
kakemaku mo
aya ni kashikosi
sumeroki no
kami no opomiyo ni
tadimamori
tokoyo ni watari
ya poko moti
mawidekosi toki
toki ziku no
kaku ko no mi wo
kasikoku mo
nokositamaere
kuni mo se ni
owitatisakape
paru sareba
pikoe moitutu
pototogisu
naku satuki ni pa
patu pana wo
eda ni taworite
wotomera ni
tuto ni mo yarimi
sirotape no
sode ni mo kokire
kagu pasimi
wokite karasimi
ayuru mi pa
tama ni nukitutu
te ni makite
miredomo akazu
akizukeba
sigure no amepuri
asipiki no
yama no konure pa
kurenawi ni
nipopi tiredomo
tatibana no
nareru sono mi pa
pitatere ni
iya migaposiku
miyuki puru
puyu ni itareba
simo wokedomo
sono pa mo karezu
tokipa nasu
iya sakapape ni
sikare koso
kami no miyo yori
yorosinape
kono tatibana wo
toki ziku no
kaku no ko no mi to
nadukekerasi mo
Even giving voice
Fills me with awe:
In the emperor’s
Divine past ages,
Tajimamori
Crossed to the land of everlasting life;
Eight spears in hand,
When he did return
Untouched by time
These fragrant trees’ fruit
With awe
Did he leave for us.
All throughout the land
Do they grow and flourish, and
When the spring does come,
From fresh branches stretching out,
The cuckoo
Calls in the Fifth Month;
The first blooms
From the branches I take by hand, and
To the maidens
I present them;
Into their white-mulberry
Sleeves they thrust them;
The fragrance sinks
And lies there unfading;
Fallen fruit as
Gems I thread,
Wound about my hand
I gaze upon them, yet can never get my fill;
With autumn’s advent
Rain showers fall, and
Leg-wearying
Moutain treetops turn
To scarlet
Glowing and scattering, yet
The orange
Ripened fruit
Gleams
Ever attracting the eye;
When snow falls
And winter comes,
Frost wraps them, yet
Their leaves remain unwithered,
Ever
Freshly flourishing,
And thus,
From the Age of Gods
Behold,
The orange
Eternally
Fragranced fruit
Has been called!
