When I had gone out to view Mount Hakone, there were islets with waves breaking over them. When I asked my companions if they knew the name of the sea there, and the answer came back that it was the Izu sea.
はこねぢをわがこえくれば伊豆の海やおきのこじまに浪のよるみゆ
hakoneji o wa ga koekureba izu no umi ya oki no kojima ni nami no yoru miyu
When Hakone’s trails I have passed across, The sea at Izu, filled With islets in the offing’s Breaking waves, I see.
There is a river called the Sagami River. I composed this to say I would board a boat and cross it after the moon had risen.[i]
ゆふづくよさすや川せのみなれ棹なれてもうとき浪のおとかな
yūzukuyo sasu ya kawase no minarezao narete mo utoki nami no oto kana
On a moonlit night, The beams strike the river rapids— The well-worn pole to the water May be accustomed, yet troublesome is The sound of waves![ii]
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[i] This river would have been familiar to Sanetomo, as it flows into the sea some twenty kilometres to the west of Kamakura, where the shogunate was headquartered. Based on the poem, the boat would have been a ferry, punted, rather than sailed across it.
[ii] See: Topic unknown. ゆふづく夜さすやをかべの松のはのいつともわかぬこひもするかな yūzukuyo / sasu ya okabe no / matsu no ha no / itsu to mo wakanu / koi mo suru kana ‘On a moonlit night / The beams strike the hillside / Through the pine needles / All year round, / As constant is my longing.’ Anonymous (Kokinshū XI: 490)
