Tag Archives: shiba

Spring II: 7

Left.

立つ雉のなるゝ野原もかすみつゝ子を思ふ道や春まどふらん

tatsu kiji no
naruru nohara mo
kasumitsutsu
ko o omou michi ya
haru madouran
The flying pheasants
Know these fields so well, yet
Haze-covered,
The fond way to their fledglings
Does it sink springtime in confusion…?

Lord Sada’ie

73

Right (Win).

鳴て立つきゞすの宿を尋ぬれば裾野の原の柴の下草

nakitetatsu
kigisu no yado o
tasunureba
susono no hara no
shiba no shitagusa
The crying, flying
Pheasants’ lodging
Should you seek out, look
In meadows on the mountains’ skirts
Among the brushwood undergrowth…

Nobusada

74

The Right team wonder whether ‘know a field well’ (hara ni naruru) isn’t a bit ‘modern’ for poetry. Furthermore, ‘sink springtime in confusion’ (haru madouran) ‘seems to be missing something’ (by this they probably mean that you would expect the expression to be haru ni madouran, with the grammatical structure more clearly expressed). The Left team respond that the first line of the Right’s poem ‘grates on the ear’ and wonder, ‘What one is to make of “pheasants’ lodgings” (kigisu no yado)?’, meaning that traditional poetic expression called for ‘warblers’ lodgings’ (uguisu no yado).

Shunzei rather harshly says that the Left’s poem is ‘poorly constructed and unacceptable in both spirit and diction,’ wondering whether there was ‘a single school which would not find fault with it on the grounds of both logic and poetic form’? It would be possible to say ‘flying pheasants’ springtime confusion’ (tatsu kigisu no haru madou), and this would ‘not require any criticism’, just as ‘crying, flying pheasants’ lodging’ does not. Furthermore, the Right’s final stanza, ‘Among the brushwood undergrowth’ (shiba no shitagusa) is ‘particularly pleasant’ and so the Right’s poem must be awarded the victory.

Spring I: 9

Left (Win).

信樂の外山は雪も消えにしを冬を殘すや谷の夕風

shigaraki no
toyama wa yuki mo
kienishi o
fuyu o nokosu ya
tani no yūkaze
From Shigaraki’s
Mountains, the snow
Has gone, yet
Does winter remain in
The valleys’ evening breeze?

Kenshō

17

Right.

春風は吹くと聞けども柴の屋はなをさむしろにいこそ寢られね

haru kaze wa
fuku to kikedomo
shiba no ya wa
nao samushiro ni
i koso nerarene
The spring breeze
Blows, I hear, yet
My twig-roofed hut is
Yet chill: beneath a threadbare blanket
I cannot fall asleep.

Lord Tsune’ie

18

Shunzei states the first part of the Left’s poem is ‘elevated in tone’, but that the final line is problematic: a reference to ‘morning’ might have been better, or just to the ‘valleys’ breeze’, but this would not have fitted the syllable count. If the intention had been to add a sense of ‘darkness’ to the poem, an expression such as ‘the valleys, shadowed by the crags’ would have been better. As for the Right’s poem, the image of the ‘twig-roofed hut’ is lonely, but the overlaying of the ‘cold’ with ‘blanket’ (in the original poem ‘samushiro’ is a play-on-words with both senses) is pedestrian, and so the Left’s poem, despite its faults, is adjudged the winner.

Winter 43

Left (Win).

朝夕の音は時雨のならしばにいつ降りかはる霰なるらん

asa yū no
oto wa shigure no
narashiba ni
itsu furikawaru
arare naruran
Morn and night
The sound of rain upon
Oaken boughs;
When, I wonder, did it change
To hail?

85

Right

霰降しづがさゝ屋のそよさらに一夜ばかりの夢をやは見る

arare furi
shizu ga sasaya no
soyo sara ni
hito yo bakari no
yume o ya wa miru
Hailstones fall
Upon my mean bamboo roof;
Will I, at least,
Briefly this night
Catch a glimpse of dreams?

86