龍田山まがふ木の葉のゆかりとて夕つけ鳥に木枯の風
tatsuta yama
magau ko no ha no
yukari tote
yūtsukedori ni
kogarashi no kaze |
To Tatsuta Mountain’s
Blended leaves
Is linked
This mulberry cloth – upon the cockerel
Blows the bitter wind. |
青むとて恨みし山の程もなく又霜枯の風をろすなり
aomu tote
uramishi yama no
hodo mo naku
mata shimogare no
kaze orosunari |
Still verdant and
Dissatisfied are the mountains;
In an instant,
The frost-burning
Wind falls upon them. |
去年よりも庭の紅葉の深き哉泪やいとゞ時雨そふらん
kozo yori mo
niwa no momiji no
fukaki kana
namida ya itodo
shigure souran |
More than last year
My garden’s scarlet leaves
Are deeper, are they not?
Even as my tears,
Fall in showers. |
をのづからとふがほなりし荻の葉もかれがれになる風の寒けさ
onozukara
tougao narishi
ogi no ha mo
karegare ni naru
kaze no samukesa |
Of itself
Has it paid a visit to
The leaves of silver grass;
All withered have they become,
In the chill of the wind. |
神無月時雨飛び分行く雁のつばさ吹干す峰の木枯
kaminazuki
shigure tobiwake
yuku kari no
tsubasa fukihosu
mine no kogarashi |
In the Godless Month, it
Drizzles upon the passing
Geese;
Wings blown dry by
The biting wind atop the peaks. |
霜枯は尾花踏み分行く鹿の聲こそ聞かぬ跡は見えけり
shimogare wa
obana fumiwake
yuku shika no
koe koso kikanu
ato wa miekeri |
Frost-seared
Miscanthus grass, pushed aside by
A stag:
I cannot hear his call, yet
Here are his tracks. |
冬くれば庭の蓬も下晴れて枯葉の上に月ぞさえ行
fuyu kureba
niwa no yomogi mo
shitaharete
kareba no ue ni
tsuki zo saeyuku |
When the winter comes,
From the mugwort in my garden
The growth clears away, and
Upon the withered leaves,
Clearly falls the moonlight. |
見し世にもあらぬ袂のあはれとやをのれしほれてとふ時雨かな
mishi yo ni mo
aranu tamoto no
aware to ya
onore shiorete
tou shigure kana |
In the world that once I knew
Were there no sleeves
As sad as these?
Dejected am I, as
Upon me the drizzling rains come calling. |
よもすがら鳴くや淺茅の蛬はかなく暮るゝ秋を惜しみて
yomosugara
naku ya asaji no
kirigirisu
hakanaku kururu
aki o oshimite |
All night long
Among the sparsely growing reeds, sing
The crickets:
The fleeting fall
Of autumn, regretting… |
山もとの里のしるべの薄紅葉よそにもおしき夕風かな
yamamoto no
sato no shirube no
usumomiji
yoso ni mo oshiki
yū kaze kana |
In the foothills is
My dwelling, its signet
Pale scarlet leaves;
How others, too, do regret,
The gusting evening wind. |
'Simply moving and elegant'