On haze by the seashore.
もしほやくうらのあたりは立ちのかでけぶりたちそふはるがすみかな
| moshio yaku ura no atari wa tachinokade keburi tachi’sou harugasumi kana | Around the saltweed burning Bay Rises, shifting, staying Smoke a’trailing: ‘Tis the haze of spring! |
12
Tag Archives: smoke
Shunzei-kyō no musume-shū 3
Horikawa hyakushu 134
Baishi naishinnō-ke uta’awase – kōshin 08
Round Eight
Fresh Bracken
Left
さわらびのもえいづる春の夕ぐれは霞のうへに煙立ちけり
| sawarabi no moe’izuru haru no yūgure wa kasumi no ue ni keburi tachikeri | Fresh bracken Budding on a spring Evening: Above the haze, Smoke a’rising. |
Koshikibu
15
Right
いつしかともえにけるかなさわらびの野辺はいかなるおもひなるらん
| itsu shika to moenikeru kana sawarabi no nobe wa ikanaru omoi naruran | So swiftly Has it budded! Fresh bracken In the meadows—what sort of Feelings might it bring? |
Shikibu
16
Kinkai wakashū 700
On seeing the salt fires of fisherfolk, when I had gone out to the beach.
いつもかくさびしきものかあしのやに焼きすさびたるあまのもしほ火
| itsumo kaku sabishiki mono ka ashi no ya ni keburi susabitaru ama no moshiobi | Are they always such Lonely things? Above the roofs of reeds Thin trails of smoke From fishers’ seaweed salt fires…[i] |
700
[i] See: いつもかくさびしきものかつの国のあし屋の里の秋の夕暮 itsumo kaku / sabishiki mono ka / tsu no kuni no / ashiya no sato no / aki no yūgure ‘Are they always such / Lonely things? / In the land of Tsu, / Reed-roofed villages / On an autumn evening…’ Ietaka (Rōnyaku gojusshu uta’awase 497)
Kinkai wakashū 699
Composed on seeing smoke rising from the kilns of the common folk.[i]
みちのくにここにやいづくしほがまの浦とはなしに煙たつみゆ
| michinoku ni koko ni ya izuku shiogama no ura to wa nashi ni keburi tatsu miyu | Where in Michinoku Might this be? For Shiogama Bay ‘tis not but I see the smoke arising.[ii] |
699
[i] Sanetomo is consciously echoing the following poem here: On receiving tribute and seeing the richness of his land. たかきやにのぼりて見ればけぶりたつたみのかまどはにぎはひにけり takaki ya ni / noborite mireba / keburi tatsu / tami no kamado wa / nigiwainikeri ‘To my palace heights / I climb and when I gaze across / Smoke rises— / The homes of my people / Are rich, indeed.’ Emperor Nintoku (Shinkokinshū VII: 707)
[ii] See: Kokinshū XX: 1088.
Eien narabō uta’awase 24
Round Three
Left
おぼつかないづれいづちのみちならむしをりも見えずふれるしらゆき
| obotsukana izure izuchi no michi naramu shiori mo miezu fureru shirayuki | How strange! Which is which Path, I wonder? Even the laden branches go unseen In the falling snow, so white. |
Retired from the World
47
Right
雪ふかみとなりのさともうづもれてけぶりのみこそしるしなりけれ
| yuki fukami tonari no sato mo uzumorete keburi nomi koso shirushi narikere | So deep the snow, that The estate next door Is buried; Trails of smoke are the only Sign it’s there! |
Senior Assistant Minister Past Lecturer
48
The poem of the Left’s ‘even the laden branches go unseen’ and what follows is both poetic and a familiar usage. As for the Right’s poem, how can ‘the estate next door be buried’ unless it’s the only place that snow is falling and nowhere else? Thus, I feel that the snow falling to conceal the broken branches has more feeling to it.
The Left’s ‘which path’ gives me the impression that there are many of them. This sense of multiplicity is something I can imagine—which is a good thing—and, I think, see me using myself. ‘Laden branches’ are something which occur on peaks deep in the mountains. It might be a bit remiss of me, but I wonder whether I can imagine snow drifting so high on a mountain peak?
As for the Right’s poem, we use ‘next door’ when there’s a fence of some sort between one estate and another, don’t we? As such, saying that the smoke is the sign is rather vague. Even if there’s been a quite extraordinary snowfall, there would be something other to notice as well as the smoke, so this is an error, isn’t it. It would be acceptable to refer to smoke if the estate were further away.
Naidaijin-ke uta’awase 35
Round Eleven
Left (T – Win; M – Tie)
逢ふことをその年月と契らねば命や恋の限なるらむ
| au koto o sono toshitsuki to chigiraneba inochi ya koi no kagiri naruramu | That we might meet For months and years She has not promised, so My life will my love’s Limit be, no doubt! |
Lord Shigemoto
69
Right
よとともにもえこそわたれ我が恋は不二の高根のけぶりならねど
| yo to tomo ni moe koso watare wa ga koi wa fuji no takane no keburi naranedo | With the coming of the night Ever burning is My love, though From Fuji’s peak Smoke it is not… |
Lord Toshitaka
70
Toshiyori states: the first poem doesn’t seem bad. The second poem nothing but cliched. Thus, the first poem should win.
Mototoshi states: while love lasting lifelong without even a promise to meet over years and months is a painfully moving conception, someone burning every night is dear, too. Thus, it’s not inferior and these are of the same quality.
Naidaijin-ke uta’awase 25
Round One
Left (T – Win)
絶えずたく室の八島の煙にも猶立ちまさる恋もするかな
| taezu taku muro no yashima no keburi ni mo nao tachimasaru koi mo suru kana | Endlessly kindled, At Muro no Yashima The smoke Yet rising more Is my love for you! |
Lady Settsu
49
Right (M – Win)
杯のしひてあひみむとおもへども恋しきことのさむるよもなき
| sakazuki no shiite aimimu to omoedomo koishiki koto no samuru yo mo naki | Over a cup of wine To press you to meet I thought, yet My love for you Will never cool in this world! |
Lord Akikuni
50
Toshiyori states: the first poem’s ‘endlessly kindled’ is an error. Fires are not actually kindled at Muro no Yashima—vapour rising from clear waters in the land appears to be smoke, so I wonder about the use of ‘kindled’ in this context. Nevertheless, if one was referring to real smoke, why wouldn’t you compose in this way? The tone of the poem isn’t bad. The second poem is an interesting display of technique, but it doesn’t appear that one would have to compose like this. Saying ‘cup’ leads to ‘wine’ and emphasises the drinking of it, but then if there were no wine and no drinking, how could one press someone to do something? In addition, I wonder whether it’s appropriate to begin with ‘cup’? This is an excess of technique over substance. The Left is more poetic, so I say it’s the winner.
Mototoshi states: what are we to make of ‘Endlessly kindled, / At Muro no Yashima / The smoke’? And what do the fires kindled at this location resemble? There are two senses of ‘Muro no Yashima’: one is a location in Shimotsuke; the second refers to people’s dwellings—we know from earlier treatises that forges are described as ‘Muro’. Which of these two senses is being used here? Whichever it is, ‘endlessly’ does not appear to have been previously associated with either of them. For example, there’s Koreshige’s poem:
風ふけば室のやしまの夕煙心のうちに立ちにけるかな
| kaze fukeba muro no yashima no yūkeburi kokoro no uchi ni tachinikeru kana | When the wind blows Across Muro no Yashima At eventide as smoke, Within my heart, My passion soars… |
It does not appear that the smoke rises endlessly here. Exemplars of endlessly rising smoke are the peak of Asama, or Mount Fuji, and these seem to have long been the subject of compositions. It seeming that this poem sought to express the essential meaning of ‘endlessly kindled’, such enquiries need to be made and, if I may be so bold, do not appear, do they? The Right’s poem has ‘Over a cup of wine / To press you to meet / I thought, yet’—while the conception of ‘press’ here sounds extremely unusual, what does it mean that ‘My love for you / Will never cool in this world’? It seems that ‘cool’ as a piece of diction is being used to make drunkenness a metaphor for being in love. If that’s the case, then, well, there are many foundational texts on this. So, even if one gets drunk, what then happens? Is there a world where this never ‘cools’? There was the case of man in Cathay who spent a thousand nights drunk, but that was only three years and not without end. In the sutras there is the drunkenness of ignorance and that might be a world in which one would not find sobriety, but there is no way to make this applicable in this poem. It is a little better than the Left poem’s endless kindling and extremely charming.
