Around the Ninth Month, when I had gone to stay at the palace for a certain reason, and I heard someone’s voice from the adjoining chamber, wrote this on the edge of my mat and had it left there.
うきよには嵐の風にさそはれてこしやまがはに袖もぬらしつ
| ukiyo ni wa arashi no kaze ni sasowarete koshiyamagawa ni sode mo nurashitsu | In this world of sorrows The storming wind Has invited me, and Koshi Mountain’s torrents Have soaked my sleeves. |
Left (Win)
主やたれ見ぬ世の色を写しをく筆のすさびにうかぶ面影
| nushi ya tare minu yo no iro o utsushioku fude no susabi ni ukabu omokage |
Who painted you? Unseen in this present world, hues, Reflected by A comforting brush, Bring her visage before me… |
Lord Sada’ie
1105
Right
水茎の跡に堰きをく瀧津瀬をまことに落とすわが涙かな
| mizukuki no ato ni sekioku taki tsu se o makoto ni otosu wa ga namida kana |
Faint brush-strokes Traces place a barrier, but A cataract in torrents Truly drops – My tears… |
Jakuren
1106
The Right state: the Left’s poem is rather casual about the person whom he loves. The Left state: the Right’s poem has no faults we can identify.
In judgement: the Gentlemen of the Right have stated that the Left seems somewhat blasé about the object of his affections, and this is certainly true. The Right’s poem, though, says that the poet is looking at a painting on something like a folding screen, where a waterfall is depicted, and he weeps in reality – this seems like he was simply moved by the painting. I feel that there is a stronger conception of love in seeing a painting and fondly recalling the face of one now long gone, than there is in being moved by the sight of a mountain stream.