nezameshite uki yo o omoi awasureba madoromu yume ni kawarazarikeri
When I awake, with This cruel world my thoughts Occupying, The dream that filled my doze Differed not at all…
Hyōenokami 121
Right (Win)
すみのえのうきにおひたるしをれあしをなみひきたてよかみのめぐみに
suminoe no uki ni oitaru shiore’ashi o nami hikitateyo kami no megumi ni
In Suminoe’s Muddy waters grows, Languishing, a reed: O, waves, lift it upright! To receive the deity’s blessing…
Lord Michichika 122
The poem of the Left appears to have an elegant sequence, saying, ‘This cruel world my thoughts / Occupying’, but the speaker does not appear to be particularly thinking of themselves—they are simply reflecting on the transience of this world and that’s how it is. The poem of the Right begins with ‘In Suminoe’ and then has ‘Muddy waters grows’, linking the particular shore with the content. The Right should win.
aware to ya kami mo omowamu suminoe no fukaku tanomi o kakuru mi nareba
‘How sad,’ does The God, too, think? For at Suminoe Deep in devotions Am I entangled…
Lord Tsunemori 105
Right
たのみつるこのひとむらの人ごとにちとせをゆづれすみよしのまつ
tanomitsuru kono hitomura no hito goto ni chitose o yuzure sumiyoshi no matsu
Devoted are This group of folk, so To each and every one Grant a thousand years, O, pines of Sumiyoshi!
Lord Yorisuke 106
The poem of the Left, saying ‘deep in devotions’ and suchlike, is pleasant, I have to say. Does the poem of the Right’s ‘this group of folk’ refer to the current poets or to the speaker’s own household? Well, whichever it is, the conception of devotion does not appear to be slight, but again I say this is a tie.
kusamakura tabine sabishiki yamakage ni ko no ha sasoite shigure furunari
On a grassy pillow, Dozing on my travels, lonely In a mountain’s shade, The rustling of the leaves invites A shower to fall.
Hyōenosuke 81
Right (Win)
すみのえのまつがはひねをまくらにてなみうちそふるしぐれをぞきく
suminoe no matsu ga haine o makura nite nami uchisouru shigure o zo kiku
At Suminoe Upon the crawling pine roots Have I made my pillow, while Laced with the breaking waves I listen to the showers.
Lord Naganori 82
The Left’s configuration of ‘the rustling of the leaves invites’, while dozing on one’s journey in the shadow of a mountain, sounds pleasant. While I do wonder about the Right’s diction—concluding with ‘listen to the showers’—in addition to ‘laced with the breaking waves’ sounding pleasant, it also adds the conception of waves beneath ‘the pines of Suminoe’, doesn’t it. I make the Right the winner.
shimo narade tsuki moru yoi ya katasogi no yukiawanu hima mo kami wa ureshiki
That ‘tis not frost, but The moon, dripping at night Through the ridge poles Unmatched gaps, Does the Deity feel joy?
Suke, from the Residence of the Former Minister of the Right[2] 50
The Left poem’s ‘Blows late upon the moon / At Suminoe’ sounds pleasant, but there have been recent poems, such as ‘Brings waves–that / I would tell you!’[3] and ‘Simply with the waves / Did seem to draw near with the night’[4] and while the initial section of the poem here differs, basing a poem on this is not that unusual, I think. The tone of the Right’s poem is charming, but it does not seem likely that the Deity would feel joy simply at the moon coming through the gaps in His ridgepoles. The Deity’s power is limitless and wards eighty isles beyond Sumiyoshi—indeed, there is nowhere in Tsumori’s shore or Sumiyoshi beach, above the waves or in the shad of the pines that it does not reach. I have discussed ridgepoles earlier. Nevertheless, the configuration of the poem isn’t bad, so these should tie, I think.
[3] 人しれぬ思ひありそのはま風に浪のよるこそいはまほしけれ hito shirenuomoi ariso nohamakaze ninami no yoru kosoiwamahoshikere ‘Unknown to all / My passion burns—toward a rocky / Beach the breeze / Brings waves–that / I would tell you!’ Middle Captain Toshitada (Horikawa-in enjo awase 17/KYS (2) 468/500)
[4] Composed when he was asked by people in the capital what the moon had been like, when he had returned there, after going to Akashi to gaze upon it, at a time when it was particularly bright. 有明の月もあかしの浦風に波ばかりこそよるとみえしか ariake no tsuki mo akashi no urakaze ni nami bakari koso yoru to mieshika ‘The dawntime Moon’s brightness, with Akashi’s / Beach breezes / Simply with the waves / Did seem to draw near with the night…’ Taira no Tadamori (KYS (2) III: 216/KYS (3) III: 212)
The Left’s poem has a truly charming conception, with ‘Upon the waves, striking the shore, / Shines the moon’ reflecting and making the pines’ shadows shine. However, what are we to make of the use of ‘bright’ here? My late master once stated that he had too often heard such diction being used. The poem of the right appears to have pleasant configuration and diction, but, while it is only natural to say that the Suminoe’s shore is dread, I wonder about the appropriateness of going so far as to say that gemweed is? It’s going a bit far, I think, to bring in ‘gemweed’ simply to link it to ‘polish’. Nevertheless, the configuration of the poem appears pleasant, so I call this a tie.
arashi fuku matsu no kozue ni kiri harete kami mo kokoro ya suminoe no tsuki
The storm wind blows Across the treetops of the pines, Clearing the mists away— I wonder, is the Deity’s heart at Suminoe beneath the moon?
Lord Fujiwara no Sadanaga Junior Assistant Minister of Central Affairs Exalted Fifth Rank, Lower Grade[ii] 34
The Left’s poem appears to be about chill fallen snow spread upon Tsumori Bay, so in saying that the waters bounding the sacred grounds cannot conceal the hue, it appears to be saying that the moon’s light is white, but I wonder if the diction is a bit insufficient to convey this? It seems to me that it simply says that although snow has fallen on the waters bounding the sacred grounds, their hue has not changed—doesn’t it? As for the Right’s poem, I can say that its conception and configuration are pleasant, but it begins with ‘the storm wind blows’ and one cannot say ‘storm wind’ along with ‘beach pines’. One can understand this based on the poem ‘Yes, the mountain wind / Is aptly named “Storm”‘. Still, the poem’s configuration does appear pleasant. Again, I make this a tie.
While in the Left ‘ice appears’ and ‘is not, perhaps, melted’ seem to have some kind of linkage, if we consider this as a Cathay-style poem saying ‘A chill night’s moon / Ice atop the swell’, then I would have preferred it to say ‘is, perhaps, bound’. An alternative version of this would, of course, be ‘A spring morn’s breeze / Ice on the eastern shore’ which could lead to ‘is not, perhaps, melted’, I think. The Right has ‘On the coast before the shrine / Even the pine needles’ and through this type of linkage expresses the brightness of the moon. While this type of smug-sounding expression also appeared in the round before last, the moon here does seem bright and so I can say that the Right wins.
kokoronaki kokoro mo nao zo tsukihatsuru tsuki sae sumeru sumiyoshi no hama
Even my insensitive Heart is still Quite exhausted, So clear the moon Above the beach at Sumiyoshi…
Lord Fujiwara no Toshinari Master of the Dowager Empress’ Household Office Master of the Right Capital Office Exalted Senior Third Rank 2
The Left poem’s conception and configuration, saying ‘In ancient times was it so? / The moon o’er Suminoe’ is truly charming! While I am accustomed to hearing conceptions similar to that expressed in the initial line, I have no recollection of this exact turn of phrase and, in addition, leading with ‘Could these ancient’ and continuing with ‘Pines but speak’ is a conception which is rare, indeed. In the poem of the Right, on the moon over the beach before the shrine, I have quite exhausted my own meagre conceptions and, feel that my scanty words are not enough, I think. The Left’s poem is particularly fine, so it should win.
[i]Shōni’i Fujiwara ason Sanesada正二位藤原朝臣実定 (1139-1191)：Most frequently referred to today as the Later Tokudaiji Minister of the Left (Gotokudaiji no sadaijin 後徳大寺左大臣), Sanesada had an extensive court career, culminating in appointment as Minister of the Left in 1189, a position he was to hold for only two years, before illness forced him to surrender it in the middle of 1191, a few months before his death. Sanesada skillfully negotiated the fraught political environment following the Genpei War (1180-1185) and is known to have had the trust of Minamoto no Yoritomo 源頼朝 (1147-1199), the first Kamakura shogun. He was well-known as a poet, participating in many uta’awase, including this one, and has 73 poems in imperial anthologies, beginning with Senzaishū. His most famous poem today is: Composed in the conception of hearing a cuckoo at dawn. 時鳥鳴きつるかたをながむればたゞ有明の月ぞのこれる hototogisu / nakitsuru kata o / nagamureba / tada ariake no / tsuki zo nokoreru ‘A cuckoo / Calls from yonder— / Gazing there, / Only the daybreak / Moon remains.’ (SZS III: 161), which was included in Hyakunin isshu (81).
