When the Gokyōgoku Regent ordered her to produce a hundred poem sequence.
雲となり雨となりても身にそはばむなしき空をかたみとやみん
| kumo to nari ame to narite mo mi ni sowaba munashiki sora o katami to ya min | Even should you become a cloud, and Then become raindrops Falling on my flesh, then Would the vacant skies I see as a keepsake, perhaps? |
Kojijū
Poems on the beginning of spring
九重の雲ゐに春ぞ立ちぬらしおほうちやまに霞たなびく
| kokonoe no kumoi ni haru zo tachinurashi ōuchiyama ni kasumi tanabiku | In ninefold layers of Cloud does springtime Seem to rise; Across Ōuchi Mountain[i] Trails haze. |
2
[i] Ōuchi Mountain (ōuchiyama 大内山) lies to the north of the Ninnaji 仁和寺 temple in the north-west of Kyoto, and was the site of a detached palace belonging to Emperor Uda 宇多 (866-931; r. 887-897).
Left
をとめ子がひかげのうへに降る雪は花のまがふにいづれたがへり
| otomego ga hikage no ue ni furu yuki wa hana no magau ni izure tagaeri | Maidens In the sunlight, with The falling snow; Such a blending of blossoms— How do they differ? |
145
Left
かきくらし散る花とのみふる雪は冬のみやこの雲のちるかと
| kakikurashi chiru hana to nomi furu yuki wa fuyu no miyako no kumo no chiru ka to | Quickly darkening with Scattered blossom that is simply Falling snow, Is the capital in winter Strewn with cloud? |
146
Left (Win).
深き夜の軒の雫をかぞへても猶あまりぬる袖の雨哉
| fukaki yo no noki no shizuku o kazoetemo nao amari nuru sode no ame kana |
Late at night, From my eaves the droplets I number up, but Still much more drenching Is the rainfall on my sleeves. |
A Servant Girl.
947
Right.
雲とづる宿の軒端の夕ながめ戀よりあまる雨の音哉
| kumo tozuru yado no nokiba no yū nagame koi yori amaru ame no oto kana |
Closed in with cloud, From my dwelling’s eaves I gaze out in the evening; Overwhelming my love Is the sound of rain… |
Nobusada.
948
The Right state: the Left’s poem has no faults. The Left state: we do not understand the Right’s poem at all.
In judgement: the Left’s poem commences with ‘late at night’ (fukaki yo no) and then continues with mention of raindrops – this sounds extremely effective. The Right’s poem, too, starts ‘closed in with cloud’ (kumo tozuru) and concludes with ‘the sound of rain’ (ame no oto kana), which sounds charming, but because the poem is said to be ‘incomprehensible’ or ‘grating on the ear’, despite being one with both a significant conception and an unusual sound, there is no reason for me to shoehorn in my own views, even if much has been overlooked, so this round I will leave it at, the Right is entirely incomprehensible and the Left without fault. Thus, the Left wins.
Left.
雲かゝり重なる山を越えもせず隔てまさるは明くる日の影
| kumo kakari kasanaru yama o koe mo sezu hedate masaru wa akuru hi no kage |
Trailed with cloud, The layered mountains I have not gone beyond, but What stands between us most is The light of the brightening sun. |
Lord Sada’ie.
801
Right (Win).
いさ命思ひは夜半に盡き果てぬ夕も待たじ秋の曙
| isa inochi omoi wa yowa ni tsukihatenu yūbe mo mataji aki no akebono |
I know not what’s to become of my life! All my thoughts of love in the hours of night Are quite exhausted, and I cannot wait for evening On this autumn dawn… |
Nobusada.
802
The Right state: from ‘Trailed with cloud’ (kumo kakari) to ‘The light of the brightening sun’ (akuru hi no kage), all is entirely unacceptable, is it not? The Left state: we wonder about the acceptability of ‘I know not what’s to become of my life’ (isa inochi).
In judgement: the Right have said that the Left’s poem is unacceptable from beginning to end, but can one really go so far as to say that? Furthermore, the Left query whether ‘I know not what’s to become of my life’, but I wonder whether I can recall this phrase being that bad. However, one is accustomed to saying that ‘this spring dawn’ (haru no akebono) is elegant, and although ‘this autumn dawn’ (aki no akebono) is a modern expression, the faults of the Left’s poem are particularly problematic, so the Right should win.