kaze fukeba
okitu siranami
tatuta yama
yoFa ni ya kimi ga
Fitori koyuramu
This gusting wind
Whips up the whitecaps
High as Mount Tatsuta
Where, through night’s depths, my Lord,
Makes his solitary way.
Anonymous.
Some people tell the following tale about this poem. Long ago, a man began to live with the daughter of someone from the province of Yamato. When the woman’s parents died, and her house became poorer, the man became friendly with a woman in the province of Kawachi and visited her often, becoming increasingly distant towards his wife. In spite of this, she was never cold towards him and, every time he went off to Kawachi, she sent him off just as he wished; thinking this strange, and wondering if her affections might have shifted elsewhere, one beautiful moonlit night he pretended to go off to Kawachi and, concealing himself in the greenery in the garden, watched her. Until late at night she plucked at her zither, grieving, then recited this poem and went to bed; the man heard it and, from that day on, never left her again.
Composed to accompany a painting of autumn leaves flowing along the Tatsuta River on a folding screen, when the Nijō Empress was known as the Mother of the Crown Prince.
もみぢばのながれてとまるみなとには紅深き浪や立つらむ
momidiba no
nagarete tomaru
minato ni Fa
kurenawi Fukaki
nami ya taturan
These autumn leaves
Flowing, will come to rest
At the harbourside: will
Deep scarlet
Waves break there, I wonder?