春雨はいたくなふりそ旅人の道ゆきごろもぬれもこそすれ
| harusame wa itaku na furi so tabibito no michiyuki goromo nure mo koso sure | O, rains of spring Don’t fall so hard! For this traveller’s Roadside robes Will surely end up drenched![i] |
595
[i] See: Topic unknown. 春雨はいたくなふりそ桜花まだみぬ人にちらまくもをし harusame wa / itaku na furi so / sakurabana / mada minu hito ni / chiramaku mo oshi ‘O, spring rains, / Fall not so hard! / The cherry blossom / Is yet unseen by folk who / Would regret its scattering’ Akahito (Shinkokinshū II: 110)
Round Four
Left
まくずはふ山ぢもはれてあきのよはこゆるたびびとやすき月かな
| makuzu hau yamaji mo harete aki no yo wa koyuru tabibito yasuki tsuki kana | Kudzu vines crawl Along the mountain paths, so clear On an autumn night for A traveller a’crossing Lit by a clement moon! |
Cell of the Fragrant Elephant
35
Right
くまもなきつきのひかりをながめてはひたけてぞしるよはあけにけり
| kuma mo naki tsuki no hikari o nagamete wa hi takete zo shiru yo wa akenikeri | No cloud mars The moon’s light, Filling my gaze, as A sun up high, telling me, Night leads to bright dawn. |
Cell of the Everlasting Truth
36
The poem of the Left has nothing to present in all of its syllables. The poem of the Right resembles a composition by someone drunk out of his mind. As a result, it’s impossible to decide between them.
In the poem of the Left, does ‘clement moonlight’ mean that the moon’s light enables one to traverse a mountain path, which normally one would be unable to make one’s way along because one would expect it to be dark? The diction here is insufficient. As it says in the preface to the Ancient and Modern Collection of Narihira’s poems, ‘excessive conception but lacking in diction, like withered flowers lacking colours, but with a lingering fragrance’. This is a poem in that style, isn’t it. As for the poem of the Right, this, too, has ‘night leads to bright dawn’—the diction here is stilted and the conception lacks elegance. I have to say these poems are of about the same standard.
Round Five
Left (T – Tie)
時雨には菅の小笠も水もりて遠の旅人ぬれやしぬらん
| shigure ni wa suga no ogasa mo mizu morite ochi no tabibito nure ya shinuran | In such a shower A little hat of woven sedge, too, Drips with water; A distant traveller Is drenched, no doubt… |
Lady Kazusa
9
Right (M – Win)
霜さえて枯行くをのの岡べなるならの朽葉にしぐれ降るなり
| shimo saete kareyuku ono no okabe naru nara no kuchiba ni shigure furu nari | Chill the frost upon The sere meadows on The hillside where Upon the withered oak leaves A shower is falling. |
Lord Mototoshi
10
Toshiyori states: In the first poem, ‘drips with water’ is vague. In the second poem, ‘hillside where’ lacks smoothness. What are we to make of ‘withered oak leaves’? If leaves have withered away, then they wouldn’t make any sound, would they. Is this even possible?
Mototoshi states: the diction of ‘In such a shower / A little umbrella of woven sedge, too, / Drips with water’ is something which lacks any prior precedent. ‘Dripping with water’ give the impression of a painted pot with a crack in it, so what kind of shower can this be? It would be more normal to refer to having to shelter beneath one’s sleeves. While it is lacking in any superlative features, I feel that the sound of a shower on withered oak leaves is somewhat more commonplace.
Left (Win).
いざやさは君に逢はずは渡らじと身を宇治橋に書き付けてみん
| iza ya sa wa kimi ni awazu wa wataraji to mi o ujihashi ni kakitsuketemin |
So, then, If I am not to meet you, I’ll not cross In my despair, the bridge at Uji, But just inscribe this here… |
Kenshō
1009
Right.
都思ふ濱名の橋の旅人や浪に濡れては恋渡るらむ
| miyako omou hamana no hashi no tabibito ya nami ni nurete wa koiwataruran |
His thoughts on the capital, The bridge at Hamana, Does a traveller, Wet by the waves, Cross while lost in love? |
Lord Takanobu
1010
The Gentlemen of the Right state: the Left’s poem has no faults to indicate. The Gentlemen of the Left state: we wonder if the Right’s poem does not sound as if it is only the capital which the poet loves?
In judgement: in the Left’s poem, ‘If I am not to meet you, I’ll not cross’ (kimi ni awazu wa wataraji to) is particularly charming, having the conception of the tale of Sima Xiangru in Mengqiu, at the bridge into the commandery of Shu, where he says, ‘If I am not aboard a four-horse carriage, I’ll never cross this bridge again!’, and then later was made a Cavalryman in Permanent Attendance, and entered as an imperial messenger. Metaphorically, it also evokes his meeting with Wenjun, and so seems particularly profound. The poem of the Right commences with ‘His thoughts on the capital’ (miyako omou) and then continues with ‘wet by the waves, cross while lost in love’ (nami ni nurete wa koiwataruran). I do not see how one can say that this poem lacks the conception of Love. However, the conception of the Left’s poem seems rare, indeed. Thus, it wins.