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Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Winter I: 1

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Left (Tie).

晴曇る時雨に色を染ながら隙なく降るは木葉成けり

harekumoru
shigure ni iro o
somenagara
himanaku furu wa
ko no ha narikeri		 From the unsettled skies
Drizzle with colour
Stains
The ever-falling
Leaves from the trees.

Kenshō.

481

Right.

時雨つる嶺の叢雲晴のきて風より降るは木葉なりけり

shiguretsuru
mine no murakumo
harenokite
kaze yori furu wa
ko no ha narikeri		 Drizzle done,
The peaks the clearing clouds
Reveal;
Now the winds are done, fallen are
The leaves from the trees.

Nobusada.

482

Both teams state they find no particular faults with the other’s poem this round.

Shunzei’s judgement: Both poems are on the topic of ‘falling leaves’, and both ‘The ever-falling leaves from the trees’ (himanaku furu wa ko no ha) and ‘Now the winds are done, fallen are’ (kaze yori furu wa), in conception and diction, are charming [kokoro kotoba tomo no okashiku kikoyu]. They must tie.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn III: 27

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Left (Tie).

惜しみかね秋暮ぬとは小男鹿の音せで人に告るなりけり

oshimikane
aki kurenu to wa
saoshika no
oto sede hito ni
tuguru narikeri		 Unable to bear
The end of autumn
The stag
Falls silent, and to man
The end relates…

Kenshō.

473

Right.

明日よりや荻の葉あへず霜枯て秋をば夢と驚かすべき

asu yori ya
ogi no ha aezu
shimogarete
aki o ba yume to
odorokasubeki		 From tomorrow
The fronds of silver-grass, unbearably,
Will be frost-burned;
That Autumn is but a dream
Will be clear to all.

The Provisional Master of the Empress Household Office.

474
Neither Left nor Right have any criticisms to make this round.

Shunzei’s judgement: Neither team has identified any faults with the other’s poem this round. However, the Left’s ‘The stag falls silent, and to man the end relates’ (oto sede hito ni tsuguru) is unclear, isn’t it? [obotsukanaku ya] The Right’s ‘fronds of silver-grass, unbearably’ (ogi no ha aezu) is also impossible to understand [ekokoroehaberanu]. Thus, the round must tie.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn III: 20

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Left.

色變る鴛鴦の毛衣今朝見ずは降るとも知らじ秋の露霜

iro kawaru
oshi no kegoromo
kesa mizu wa
furu tomo shiraji
aki no tsuyujimo		 Colours changing on
The mandarin duckdown:
If I see it not this morning,
I’ll not know that has fallen:
Autumn’s frosty dew!

Kenshō.

459

Right.

霜さゆる蓬が下のきりぎりす聲も枯野に成やしぬらん

shimo sayuru
yomogi ga shita no
kirigirisu
koe mo kareno ni
nari ya shinuran		 Frozen by frost,
Beneath the tangled mugwort
Has the cricket’s
Chirp wearied as the withered fields
Become?

Lord Tsune’ie.

460

The Right say, ‘It sounds as if the Left cannot see frost, unless it’s on a mandarin duck’s down!’
The Left respond, ‘There is the poem ‘the down-clad ducks come to my mind’ (kamo no uwage o omoi koso yare). If one composes a poem about one thing, that’s what one is composing about. As for what the Right have to say in their poem, if one is listening to a cricket’s chirp, how can it be withering away? Dubious! [fushin]’

Shunzei’s judgement: I must say I am doubtful myself about saying frosty dewfall changes the colour of ‘mandarin duckdown’ (oshi no kegoromo). In the Right’s poem, saying, ‘the cricket’s chirp’ (kirigirisu no koe) ‘the withered fields become’ (kareno ni nari ya shinuran) sounds as if one cannot hear it at all. The Left’s use of ‘dew’ (tsuyu), too, seems pointless. The Right has an elegant [yū naru] initial section, but the diction in the final section is dubious [shūku no kotoba fushin ni kikoyu]. I make the round a tie.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn III: 10

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Left.

松陰にいかで時雨の漏りつらん岩本柞初紅葉せり

matsu kage ni
ikade shigure no
moritsuran
iwamoto hahaso
hatsu momijiseri		 Beneath the pine trees’ shade
Why has the shower
Drenched all?
The oak tree, at the crag-foot
Has its first scarlet leaf.

Kenshō.

439

Right.

山科の岩田の小野に秋暮れて風に色ある柞原かな

yamashina no
iwata no ono ni
aki kurete
kaze ni iro aru
hahasowara kana		 In Yamashina
At Iwata-no-Ono
Autumn is almost done
Its hues are in the wind
Upon the oak groves.

Lord Takanobu.

440

The Right ask whether the Left can cite a poem as a precedent for the expression ‘oak tree, at the crag-foot’ (iwamoto hahaso). The Left respond that they cannot bring one to mind immediately. However, ‘crag-foot’ is often used about a range of plants of various kinds. Thus, where is the fault in using it? The Left have no criticisms to make of the Right’s poem.

Shunzei’s judgement: It is not particularly important whether there is a precedent for the Left’s use of ‘oak tree, at the crag-foot’ [shōka no yūmu ni oyobubekarazu]. The final section, ‘has its first scarlet leaf’(hatsu momijiseri), however, given that what comes before is a standard poem [tsune no uta], is somewhat over-explicit [niwaka ni kotogotoshiku haberumere]. The Right’s poem has nothing particular to say. Starting with ‘Yamashina’ sounds overly blunt [amari ni tashika ni kikoetaru]. In addition, the final section displays no deep thought [munen narubeshi]. So, again, the round is a tie.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn III: 2

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Left.

見るに猶住まゝほしきは色いろに蔦這ふ小屋のよそめ也けり

miru ni nao
sumamahoshiki wa
iroiro ni
tsuta hau koya no
yosome narikeri		 Gazing, again
Would I dwell there:
Many-hued
Ivy creeping round the hut,
Seen from afar.

Kenshō.

423

Right (Win).

年を經て苔に埋るゝ古寺の簷に秋ある蔦の色かな

toshi o hete
koke ni mumoruru
furu tera no
noki ni aki aru
tsuta no iro kana		 The years pass by and,
Buried in moss,
The ancient temple’s
Eaves in autumn take
On ivy’s hues…

Nobusada.

424

The Right say, ‘If by Koya the Left means the place Koya in the Province of Tsu, there are no other connections in the poem. If, however, it is just referring to a hut (koya), we wonder about that composition [sayō ni mo yomamu ni ya].’ The Left respond, ‘It is perfectly normal when referring to a hut, to just have “hut” in the poem! In the Right’s poem, though, “Buried, the ancient temple” (mumoruru furu tera) sounds unpleasant [kikiyokarazu].’

Shunzei’s judgement: In the Left’s poem, if it is not referring to Koya in the Province of Tsu, I have no recollection of it being normal to just refer to a hut in a poem. Even if there was an earlier poem for evidence of this, the word ‘hut’ has no connections within anything in this poem, either. The Right’s ‘buried in moss’ (koke ni mumoruru) is splendid [yū ni koso habere]. As for ‘ancient temple’ (furu tera), although it is splendid in Chinese poetry to write [shi ni kaku wa yū ni haberedo] phrases like ‘the ancient temple, situated on the mountaintop’, this is not particularly elegant in waka [uta ni wa en narazaru]. However, besides the use of koya being poor, ‘eaves in autumn’ (noki ni aki aru) sounds charming [okashiku kikoyu]. The Right must win.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn II: 29

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Left (Tie).

廣澤の池冴えわたる月影は都まで敷く氷成けり

hirosawa no
ike saewataru
tsukikage wa
miyako made shiku
kōri narikeri		 Upon Hirosawa
Pond, so brightly falls
The moonlight that
All up to the capital is spread
A sheet of ice, or so it seems.

Kenshō.

417

Right.

月清み都の空も雲清みて松風拂ふ廣澤の池

tsuki kiyomi
miyako no sora mo
kumo sumite
matsukaze harau
hirosawa no ike		 The moon, so clear;
The skies above the capital
Swept clean of cloud by
Winds rustling in the pines
Round Hirosawa Pond.

Jakuren.

418

Both Left and Right state that their opinions are as in the previous round.

Shunzei’s judgement: I do wonder about ‘Upon Hirosawa Pond, so brightly falls’ (hirosawa no ike saewataru) followed by ‘All up to the capital is spread a sheet of ice’ (miyako made shiku kōri). ‘The skies above the capital swept clean of cloud by winds rustling in the pines’ (miyako no sora mo kumo sumite matsukaze harau) is elevated in expression [take aru sama], and although ‘the moon, so clear’ (tsuki kiyomi) is archaic diction [furuki kotoba], in this poem it may be difficult to judge it entirely appropriate [yoroshi to mo kikinashigataku]. Thus, this round should tie.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn II: 19

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Left.

薦枕高瀬の淀に立つ鴫の羽音もそそやあはれかくなり

komo makura
takase no yodo ni
tatsu shigi no
haoto mo soso ya
aware kaku nari		 Pillowed on a mat of rush
Where the Yodo meets Takase
The starting snipe
With rustling wingbeats
Draw in my melancholy.

Kenshō.

397

Right (Win).

あはれさは萩吹く風の音のみか有明の月に鴫も鳴なり

awaresa wa
hagi fuku kaze no
oto nomi ka
ariake no tsuki ni
shigi mo nakunari		 Melancholy is not
In the wind upon the bush clover’s
Sigh alone but
With the moon at break of dawn
The snipe a’crying.

The Provisional Master of the Empress Household Office.

398

The Right state that the Left’s poem is based on a misinterpretation of the song ‘The Spreading Moon Rises’, and this has led to the usage of ‘mat of rush’. Furthermore, in the absence of expressions such as ‘bush clover’ or ‘new grown rice’, ‘rustling’ lacks a context. The Left merely state that the initial section of the Right’s poem ‘does not sound attractive’.

Shunzei’s judgement: The gentlemen of the Right have already stated the issue with ‘rush mat’. As for ‘rustling’, I have already suggested that it was unsuitable in the earlier poem on bush clover in the topic of ‘Autumn Evenings’, and it is unfeasible to think that one could go so far as to use it in reference to ‘wing beats’. In regard to the Right’s poem, the initial line, indeed, sounds poor, and the central ‘alone but’ is also regrettable, but even so, it wins the round.

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: 9

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Left.

秋といへばさらでも物の悲しきに夕風立ちぬ高円の宮

aki to ieba
sarademo mono no
kanashiki ni
yūkaze tachinu
takamato no miya		 Speaking of the autumn,
Or even if we’re not, true
Sadness is in
The evening breeze
At the palace of Takamato.

Kenshō.

377

Right.

物ごとに秋はあはれを分ねども猶限りなき夕間暮かな

monogoto ni
aki wa aware o
wakanedomo
nao kagirinaki
yūmagure kana		 Everything
About the autumn is moving
Without exception, but
Most of all, it is
The early evening.

The Provisional Master of the Empress Household Office.

378

The Right complain that ‘there is no specific linking expression in the poem with the palace at Takamato’; while the Left criticise the Right’s poem for ‘mentioning “everything” at the beginning, but then simply concluding with “early evening”.’

Shunzei’s judgement: while it is true that there is no specific link with ‘the palace at Takamato’ in the Left’s poem, is it not the case that it is a location redolent with sadness? The Right’s poem recalls ‘Everything/Is sadness/In the scarlet leaves’, and thus does not need to say more than this. However, we need to consider the concluding section ‘early evening’ (yūmagure kana). Just like ‘the palace at Takamato’, it lacks connection. The round must tie.

Poetry Competition in Six Hundred Rounds

Autumn II: 6

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Left (Tie).

小雨降る葛飾早稲を刈るまゝに民の袖さへうるほひにけり

kosame furu
katsushika wase o
karu mama ni
tami no sode sae
uruoinikeri		 Showers fall in
Katsushika; early ripened rice
Reaping,
Even the peasants’ sleeves
Are damp.

Kenshō.

371

Right (Tie).

小萩咲く片山陰に日晩の鳴すさびたる村雨のそら

kohagi saku
katayamakage ni
higurashi no
nakisu sabitaru
murasame no sora		 Bush clover blooming
In the mountain’s shade;
The sundown cicadas
Sing intermittently
To the showery skies.

Jakuren.

372

Neither team has any criticisms to make.

Shunzei say, ‘The style and construction of both poems is superb, though the Left’s is particularly archaic in tone, and thus using mama ni in the central section is somewhat weak, is it not? Surely, “Whilst reaping” (karu nae ni) would have been a better fit! The Right’s simple conclusion of “showery skies” (murasame no sora) is particularly effective. However, the Left, too, with “even the peasants’ sleeves” (tami no sode sae) shows a fine spirit. The two poems are a match and tie.’