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Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn II: 17

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Left.

幾夜とも宿は答へず門田吹稲葉の風の秋の音づれ

ikuyo tomo
yado wa kotaezu
kadotafuku
inaba no kaze no
aki no otozure		 How many nights it’s been?
My home gives no reply;
Blowing ‘cross the field before my gates,
The wind among the rice stalks
Brings autumn calling…

Lord Sada’ie.

393

Right (Win).

わきてなど庵もる袖のしほるらん稲葉にかぎる秋の風かは

wakite nado
io moru sode no
shioruran
inaba ni kagiru
aki no kaze ka wa		 Apart, and yet
Sleeves within the watchman’s hut
Are drenched;
Among none other than the rice-stalks
Is the autumn wind?

Nobusada.

394

The Right state that the Left’s ‘Blowing ‘cross the field before my gates’ (kadota fuku) is grating on the ear. In addition, ‘should one really expect an answer from a house?’ The Left simply say that they find the Right’s poem ‘good’.

Shunzei’s judgement: The Gentlemen of the Right have correctly identified two faults with the Left’s poem. The Right’s poem, on the other hand, in both diction and sentiment, is extremely charming, and the final section, in particular is most profound in form. I must make it the winner.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn II: 15

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Left (Win).

遠近の庵に引板打つ音聞けばかたみに守るや秋の小山田

ochikochi no
io ni hita utsu
oto kikeba
katami ni moru ya
aki no oyamada		 Both near and far
From huts the bird clappers sound;
Hearing it,
I wonder do they ward together
The little mountain paddies at autumn time…

Kenshō.

389

Right.

風吹けば山田の庵に音信て稲葉ぞ人を守り明しける

kaze fukeba
yamada no io ni
otozurete
inaba zo hito wo
moriakashikeru		 When the wind does blow
To the mountain paddy huts
Comes the sound
Of rustling rice fronds; the folk within
Warding, wakeful, ‘til daybreak.

Jakuren.

390

The Right find no fault with the Left’s poem this round. The Left wonder about the suitability of the phrase ‘folk within warding’ (hito wo moru), to which the Right respond that the expression carries the sense of wakefulness.

Shunzei’s judgement: the Left has the sound of bird clappers jointly guarding the fields, the Right, the sound of rice stirred by the autumn wind rousing folk in their huts – both poems display a particular skill in terms of form, but perhaps at the expense of feeling. Furthermore, I am unable to apprehend the Right’s ‘rice fronds; the folk within warding’. The Left wins, by a small margin.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn II: 13

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Left (Tie).

山田守る素児が鳴子に風触れてたゆむ眠り驚かす也

yamada moru
suko ga naruko ni
kaze furete
tayumu neburi
odorokasu nari		 Guarding the mountain fields,
To the watchman the bird-clapper’s sound
Is carried by the wind,
And from his idle doze
He starts awake!

Lord Ari’ie.

385

Right (Tie).

吹折は鳴子の音も絶えせねば風の守りける山田成けり

fuku ori wa
naruko no oto mo
taeseneba
kaze no morikeru
yamada narikeri		 When the wind blows
The bird-clapper’s sound
Is ceaseless;
It is the wind that’s watching
O’er the mountain fields.

Lord Tsune’ie.

386

The Right find no fault with the Left’s poem this round. The Left merely state that the first line of the Right’s poem is ‘weak’.

Shunzei’s judgement: In the Left’s poem, the emotional overtones of ‘idle doze’ (tayumu neburi) do not match those of ‘watchman’ (suko). Perhaps, instead, it was and old man doing the guarding? As for the Right’s poem, saying ‘when the wind blows’ (fuku ori wa) is weak is an understatement, indeed, and yet it is impossible to award ‘idle doze’ the victory. The round must tie.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn II: 12

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Left (Win).

秋よたゞ眺め捨ても出なまし此里のみの夕と思はば

aki yo tada
nagamesutetemo
idenamashi
kono sato nomi no
yūbe to omowaba		 O, Autumn!
Could I escape you
I would leave
This dwelling, were it alone
Enveloped in evening..

Lord Sada’ie.

383

Right.

眺めつる軒端の萩の音信て松風になる夕暮の空

nagametsuru
nokiba no hagi no
otozurete
matsukaze ni naru
yūgure no sora		 Gazing
At the bush clover ‘neath my eaves,
A visitor’s step
Awaiting, carried by the pine-brushed wind,
From the evening skies…

Jakuren.

384

Neither team has any criticisms of the other’s poem.

Shunzei’s judgement: There is no distinction to make between the diction or emotional import of either poem. There is, of course, no reason to expect the wind not to blow through the pine trees, when it brushes the bush clover. I feel that the sentiment of this poem’s ‘pine-brushed wind’ (matsukaze ni naru) resembles that of Round One Hundred and Ninety’s ‘Insects sing from the cogon grasses in my garden’ (mushi no ne ni naru niwa no asajū), but is somewhat inferior. The Left, though, truly captures the feeling.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn I: 25

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Left (Win).

萩が枝をしがらむ鹿も荒かりし風のねたさに猶しかずけり

hagi ga eda
oshigaramu shika mo
arakarishi
kaze no netasa ni
nao shikazukeri		 Bush clover branches
Tangled, are trodden by deer;
The wild
Wind’s spite
O’erthrown.

Kenshō.

349

Right.

女郎花野分の風の荒さには靡きながらも露やこぼるゝ

ominaeshi
nowaki no kaze no
arasa ni wa
nabikinagaramo
tsuyu ya koboruru		 Maidenflowers,
In the gusting gales
Rage,
Trembling,
Do they let fall their drops of dew?

Lord Tsune’ie.

350

The Right wonder, ‘Whether the conception of “autumn gales” is adequately expressed by “wild winds”?’ In response, the Left say, ‘Poems on “autumn gales” are not found in previous ages. But is this not what is intended by poems such as “Wild winds have left behind”? Furthermore, on the gentlemen of the Right’s poem, as “gales” (nowaki) contain the sense of “rage” (arasa ni wa), is it not superfluous? Moreover, in the final section, the poem could refer to any blossom – not just maidenflowers.’

Shunzei states: ‘The Left’s “o’erthrown’ (nao shikazukeri) feels old-fashioned, while the prior section’s “wind’s spite” (kaze no netasa) is more modern. This produces a result akin to seeing a peasant wearing smart shoes, I feel. The Right’s “gales” letting dewdrops fall is so obvious a situation as to be pedestrian. Thus, despite the mis-match between sections in the Left’s poem, it must win.’

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn I: 3

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Left (Tie).

秋風の吹も強らぬ眞葛原夏の氣色に猶かへる哉

aki kaze no
fuki mo tsuyoranu
makuzuwara
natsu no keshiki ni
nao kaeru kana		 The autumn wind
Blows with such little strength that
The field of arrowroot
To its summer scene
Has yet returned.

Lord Ari’ie.

305

Right (Tie).

秋來てもまだひとへなる衣手に厭はぬ程の風ぞ吹なる

aki kitemo
mada hitoenaru
koromode ni
itowanu hodo no
kaze zo fukunaru		 Autumn has come, and yet
For my still single-layered
Sleeves
There is no respite in
The breath of wind

Ietaka.

306

The Right state, ‘The expression “little strength” (tsuyoranu) is particularly grating on the ear.’ The Left respond, ‘And what are we really to make of the expression, “no respite in the breath of wind” (itowanu hodo no kaze)? Even in “O, blow my cares away,/First breeze of Autumn!” (kokorosite Fuke aki no Fatukaze), one does not get a sense of dislike for the wind. Furthermore, the core sense of the poem seems inappropriately chilly for the topic.’

Shunzei’s judgement is that, ‘the criticisms of both teams have merit. The Left’s “little strength” is as stated. As for the spirit of the Right’s poem, does not “O, blow my cares away” (kokorosite Fuke) mean that the coolness brings no respite? While the spirit of “Lingering Heat” certainly contains the key sense that things have become slightly cooler, as I said in the last round. In any case, this round is a tie.’

Senzaishū

SZS IV: 233

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Composed on silver-grass at the Poetry Competition in the Garden of the Empress Ikuhōmon’in.

ものごとに秋のけしきはしるけれどもまづ身にしむはおぎのうは風

monogoto ni
aki no kesiki Fa
sirukeredomo
madu mi ni simu Fa
ogi no uFakaze		 In many things
Is the feel of autumn
Made known, yet
Most affecting of all
Is the wind o’er the silver-grass.

Minister of the Treasury Yukimune.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn I: 2

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Round One-Hundred and Fifty-Two: Autumn – Lingering Heat.

Left.

水無月の照る日や影を殘しけん今朝吹く風の秋に知られぬ

minazuki no
teru hi ya kage o
nokoshiken
kesa fuku kaze no
aki ni shirarenu		 The Waterless Month’s
Shining sun and light
Seem to linger on;
To this morning’s blowing breeze
Is autumn quite unknown.

Kenshō.

303

Right (Win).

秋を淺み照る日を夏とおぼめけば暮行空の荻の上風

aki o asami
teru hi o natsu to
obomekeba
kureuyuku sora no
ogi no uwakaze		 In autumn ‘tis weak, yet
The shining sun, of summer
Yet has the feel;
From the dusking sky comes
The wind o’er the silver-grass.

The Provisional Master of the Empress Household Office.

304

The Right state, ‘It would have been far better to have “This morning’s blowing breeze brings no knowledge of autumn” (kesa fuku kaze no aki o shirasenu).’ The Left reply, ‘In the Right’s poem, the initial section fails to express the topic, and the latter part seems to have no purpose.’

Shunzei’s judgement is: ‘With regard to the Left’s poem, I cannot agree that “brings no knowledge of autumn” is any better than “is autumn quite unknown”. As for the Right, in general it is not considered that “the shining sun, of summer yet has the feel” (teru hi o natsu to obomekeba) provides suitable praise to the lingering heat of autumn. However, even in poems on the theme of lingering heat, it is appropriate to praise the coolness of early evening. Does not “From the dusking sky comes the wind o’er the silver-grass” (kureuyuku sora no ogi no uwakaze) do this? It must win.’

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Summer II: 28

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Left (Win).

ゆふま山松のは風にうちそへて蝉の鳴く音も峰渡るなり

yūma yama
matsu no ha kaze ni
uchisoete
semi no naku ne mo
mine wataru nari		 Upon Yūma Mountain
The wind passing o’er the pine needles:
Just so
Do the cicadas’ cries
Pass between the peaks.

Kenshō.

295

Right.

深山邊のふかみどりなる夏木立蝉の聲とてしげからぬかは

miyamabe no
fukamidorinaru
natsu kodachi
semi no koe tote
shigekaranu ka wa		 In the mountains’ heart
Of deepest green
Are the trees in summer, yet
The cicadas’ songs
Surpass them in profusion.

Lord Tsune’ie.

296

The Right state that, ‘the expression ha kaze is usually used in reference to birds.’ (Ha here used to mean ‘leaf’, was also the word for ‘wing’.) The Left query, ‘the use of tote,’ which is a particle not usually used in poetry. In addition, they say, ‘“Trees in summer” (natsu kodachi) is should only be used in poems on the topic of “Summer Greenery”.’

Shunzei states, ‘The expression “wind passing o’er the pine needles” (matsu no ha kaze) is not that common, however, it is certainly not the case that ha kaze can only be used in reference to birds. Are not “wind passing o’er the bamboo leaves” (take no ha kaze) or “wind passing o’er the silver grass fronds” (ogi no ha kaze) everyday expressions? However, would it not have been better to say “the wind, blowing ‘gainst the pines: just so” (matsu fuku kaze ni uchisoete)? The Right’s “trees in summer” (natsu kodachi) and “surpass them in profusion” are interesting but, still, “pass between the peaks” (mine wataru nari) and “Yūma Mountain” (yūma yama) are better, I think.’

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Summer I: 12

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Left.

夏草のもとも拂はぬ故郷に露よりうへを風通ふなり

natsu kusa no
moto mo harawanu
furusato ni
tsuyu yori ue o
kaze kayounari		 The summer grasses
Are yet uncut
At this ancient home of mine;
Over the fallen dewdrops,
The sound of gusting wind…

A Servant Girl.

203

Right (Win).

夏草のなかを露けみ分くる野はわが故郷の垣根なりけり

natsu kusa no
naka o tsuyukemi
wakuru no wa
wa ga furusato no
kakine narikeri		 Within the summer grasses
Dewy depths,
Forging ‘cross the plain and
My ancient home’s
Brushwood fence appears.

Nobusada.

204

The Right team query, ‘How is it that the wind can pass “over the fallen dewdrops” (tsuyu yori ue o)?’ The Left content themselves with saying that the Right’s poem is ‘difficult to grasp’.

Shunzei, though, remarks, ‘The Left’s “over the fallen dewdrops” is a wonderfully charming expression. It is the initial “are yet uncut” (moto mo harawanu) which is extremely difficult to understand. The Right’s configuration and diction seem particularly fine [sugata kotoba yoroshiku koso haberumere], though, so it is, just, the winner.’