虎に乗り古屋を越えて青淵に蛟龍捕り来む剣太刀もが
| tora ni nori puruya wo koete awoputi ni mituti torikomu turugi tati mo ga |
Tiger-mounted, and Passing ruined houses; In the deep blue pools, I’ll come catching dragons – O, to have such a sword! |
Prince Sakaibe
境部王
Tag Archives: fuchi
MYS XVII: 4003
A poem with two envoys, composed in respectful response to Tachiyama.
朝日さし そがひに見ゆる 神ながら 御名に帯ばせる 白雲の 千重を押し別け 天そそり 高き立山 冬夏と 別くこともなく 白栲に 雪は降り置きて 古ゆ あり来にければ こごしかも 岩の神さび たまきはる 幾代経にけむ 立ちて居て 見れども異し 峰高み 谷を深みと 落ちたぎつ 清き河内に 朝さらず 霧立ちわたり 夕されば 雲居たなびき 雲居なす 心もしのに 立つ霧の 思ひ過ぐさず 行く水の 音もさやけく 万代に 言ひ継ぎゆかむ 川し絶えずは
| asapi sasi sogapi ni miyuru kamu nagara mina ni obasesu sirakumo no tipe wo osiwake ama sosori takaki tatiyama puyu natu to waku koto mo naku sirotape ni yuki pa puri okite inisipe yu arikinikereba kogosikamo ipa no kamusabi tama kiparu ikuyo penikemu tatiwite miredomo ayasi minedakami tani wo pukami to otitagitu kiyoki ka puti ni asa sarazu kiri tati watari yupu sareba kumowi tanabiki kumowi nasu kokoro mo sino ni tatu kiri no omopi sugusazu yuku midu no woto mo sayakeku yoroduyo ni ipitugi yukamu kapa si taezu wa |
The morning sun shines At my back,and Divine Your great name links: Clouds of white In a thousand layers, you pierce, and Tower into the heavens, Tall Tachiyama! In winter and, in summer both Indistinguishably are you Clad in mulberry white Fallen drifts of snow; Since ancient days Ever has been your estate, Fastened round with Crags divine； ‘til all souls end Have countless ages passed! Standing here, I see you, yet am awed by Your lofty peak and Valley’s deep, where Plunge seething cataracts of Waters pure to pools where Morning never leaves – Mists rise and roll across, and When the evening comes Clouds trail in and Cover all, Even, with sadness, my heart, so The rising mists Never leave my thoughts, and of Your running waters’ Clear, pure sound Through ten thousand ages Will I ever tell Unending as a river’s flow… |
Ōtomo no Ikenushi
大伴池主
Love VII: 15
Left.
最上河人の心の稲船もしばしばかりと聞かば頼まん
| mogamigawa hito no kokoro no inabune mo shibashi bakari to kikaba tanoman |
Upon Mogami River, Her heart is as A rice-boat; That but for a little while She will hear me, is all my longing. |
Lord Ari’ie
989
Right (Win).
飛鳥川淵瀬ひまなき世の中に人のつらさぞ變らざりける
| asukagawa fuchi se himanaki yo no naka ni hito no tsurasa zo kawarazarikeru |
On Asuka River The deeps and shallows have no rest; In this world of ours, Her cruelty Is unchanging. |
The Supernumerary Master of the Empress’ Household Office
990
The Right state: we have no criticisms to make of the Left’s poem. The Left state: we wonder about the Right’s use of ‘the deeps and shallows have no rest’ (fuchi se himanaki).
In judgement: ‘Mogami River’ appears to be technically accomplished, but the final section sounds excessive. The deeps and shallows of Asuka River, indeed, do change constantly. The final section, too, seems fine. Thus, the Right wins.
Wakan rōeishū I: 265
我が宿の菊の白露今日今日ごとにいく代たまりて淵となるらむ
| wa ga yado no kiku no siratuyu keFu goto ni ikuyo tamarite Futi to naruramu |
At my dwelling, The silver dew upon the chrysanthemums Ever on this day For countless ages accumulates Into a deep river pool. |
Nakatsukasa
中務
Yoshinobu-shū 158
泉川のどけき淵の陰見れば今年の秋ぞすみはじめける
| idumigaFa nodokeki Futi no kage mireba kotosi no aki zo sumiFazimekeru |
Izumi River’s Peaceful pools In shadow do I see; This year’s autumn is, indeed, Drawing to an end. |
Ōnakatomi no Yoshinobu
Love III: 15
Left (Win.)
侘びつゝは音する風のつてもかが荻の上葉の枯果てぬとも
| wabitsutsu wa otosuru kaze no tsute mo gana ogi no uwaba no karehatenu tomo |
Sunk in constant grief A whispered wind-borne Word would do; though The fronds of silver-grass Have withered all away… |
749
Right.
あさましや淵とせく瀬の末だにもかく絶果つる程は見えぬを
| asamashi ya fuchi to seku se no sue dani mo kaku taehatsuru hodo wa mienu o |
How unexpected! The flow dammed into a pool Has reached an end; That it would cease so It never did seem… |
750
The Right state: it sounds as if the silver-grass after withering make no sound. The Left state: the expression ‘flow dammed into a pool’ (fuchi to seku se) is odd.
In judgement: the Left is not saying that silver-grass makes no sound after withering, but that there is no wind. The Right’s ‘flow dammed into a pool’ is certainly not poor, but the final section sounds clumsy. The Left’s poem is better. It should win.