Tag Archives: kozue

Sumiyoshi-sha uta’awase kaō ni-nen 45

Round Twenty

Left

たびねするいそのとまやのむらしぐれあはれをなみのうちそへてける

tabinesuru
iso no tomaya no
murashigure
aware o nami no
utchisoetekeru
Dozing on my travels
In a sedge-thatched hut upon the rocky shore,
The cloudbursts’
Sadness with that of the waves
Is laced.

Lord Sane’ie
89

Right (Win)

もりもあへずまだきにぬるるたもとかなこずゑしぐるるまつのしたぶし

mori mo aezu
mada ki ni nururu
tamoto kana
kozue shigururu
matsu no shitabushi
No drips
Yet have come to my soaking
Sleeves—
The treetops showered, as
Beneath the pines I lay me down.

Atsuyori
90

The Left’s sound of the waves ‘In a sedge-thatched hut upon the rocky shore… Sadness with that of the waves / Is laced’ does, indeed, convey an inference of sadness, but the concluding ‘is laced’ sounds a bit inappropriate. The Right’s conception and configuration, too, are extremely charming. ‘Beneath the pines I lay me down’ is, I think, a novel construction—although I do get the impression that that it sounds like something which has prior precedent. Still, saying ‘No drips / Have yet come to my soaking’ and then ‘The treetops showered, as / Beneath the pines’ means that the sound conveys the loneliness as it truly is. Thus, again, the Right wins.

Sumiyoshi-sha uta’awase kaō ni-nen 17

Left (Tie)

月さゆるつもりのうらのみづがきはふりしくゆきにいろもかはらず

tsuki sayuru
tsumori no ura no
mizukaki wa
furishiku yuki ni
iro wa kawarazu
The moon, so chill, shines
Upon the Bay of Tsumori,
Where the honored sacred grounds,
Spread with fallen snow
Remain unchanged in hue.

Taifu, in service to the Former Ise Virgin[i]
33

Right

あらしふくまつのこずゑにきりはれてかみもこころやすみのえの月

arashi fuku
matsu no kozue ni
kiri harete
kami mo kokoro ya
suminoe no tsuki
The storm wind blows
Across the treetops of the pines,
Clearing the mists away—
I wonder, is the Deity’s heart at
Suminoe beneath the moon?

Lord Fujiwara no Sadanaga
Junior Assistant Minister of Central Affairs
Exalted Fifth Rank, Lower Grade[ii]
34

The Left’s poem appears to be about chill fallen snow spread upon Tsumori Bay, so in saying that the waters bounding the sacred grounds cannot conceal the hue, it appears to be saying that the moon’s light is white, but I wonder if the diction is a bit insufficient to convey this? It seems to me that it simply says that although snow has fallen on the waters bounding the sacred grounds, their hue has not changed—doesn’t it? As for the Right’s poem, I can say that its conception and configuration are pleasant, but it begins with ‘the storm wind blows’ and one cannot say ‘storm wind’ along with ‘beach pines’. One can understand this based on the poem ‘Yes, the mountain wind / Is aptly named “Storm”‘. Still, the poem’s configuration does appear pleasant. Again, I make this a tie.


[i] Zen-saigū no Taifu 前斎宮大輔

[ii] Jūgoige-gyō nakatsukasa no shō Fujiwara ason Sadanaga 従五位下行中務少輔藤原朝臣定長

Daikōtaigōgū no suke taira no tsunemori-ason ke uta’awase 48

Round Twelve

Left (Tie)

柞原しぐれにそむるくれなゐはこずゑの風や吹きてほすらん

hahasowara
shigure ni somuru
kurenai wa
kozue no kaze ya
fukitehosuran
The oak groves by
The showers are dyed
With scarlet—
Might the wind through the treetops,
Gusting, bring dryness?

Shinkaku
95

Right

紅葉ばは入日の影のさしそひてゆふくれなゐの色ぞことなる

momijiba wa
irihi no kage no
sashisoite
yūkurenai no
iro zo kotonaru
The autumn leaves
By sunset’s light
Are struck, and
Evening’s scarlet
Hue is startlingly fine!

Lay Priest Norinaga
96

In the Left’s poem I would want there to be an expression such as ‘robe’ or ‘brocade’ which is being blown. As for the Right, it lacks any unusual diction, but has no noticeable faults, so these should tie.

Daikōtaigōgū no suke taira no tsunemori-ason ke uta’awase 45

Round Nine

Left (Tie)

秋ごとに葉もりの神のつらきかな紅葉を風にまかすとおもへば

aki goto ni
hamori no kami no
tsuraki kana
momiji o kaze ni
makasu to omoeba
Every single autumn,
The guardian deity of the leaves is
Cruel, indeed!
The scarlet leaves to the wind
He does abandon, I feel…

Narinaka
89

Right

くれなゐに梢の色のかはるより風の音さへあらずなるかな

kurenai ni
kozue no iro no
kawaru yori
kaze no oto sae
arazunaru kana
Since to scarlet
The treetops hues
Have changed,
Even the sound of the wind is
Not as it was!

Tōren
90

The Left depicts things just as they are. If the Right has the same conception as the Cathay-style poem on the wind lessening every morning at Shanglin Park,[1] then it’s that one feels that after the leaves have turned, they’ll scatter, yet one has to think that, later, in summer the treetops will grow lush again, and the sounds do not resemble each other; neither of these are faults and so the round ties.


[1] Wakan rōeishū 312

Sumiyoshi-sha uta’awase kaō ni-nen 05

Round Five

Left (Win)

ゆふかくるここちこそすれすみよしのまつのこずゑをてらす月かげ

yū kakuru
kokochi koso sure
sumiyoshi no
matsu no kozue o
terasu tsukikage
All hung with sacred streamers
I feel they are—
At Sumiyoshi
The treetops of the pines
Shining in the moonlight.

Lord Fujiwara no Shigenori
Captain of the Outer Palace Guards, Left Division
Exalted Senior Third Rank[1]
9

Right

すみよしのまつのこずゑをみわたせばこよひぞかくる月のしらゆふ

sumiyoshi no
matsu no kozue o
miwataseba
koyoi zo kakuru
tsuki no shirayū
When, at Sumiyoshi
Over the treetops of the pines
I pass my gaze,
Hung are they, this midnight
With the moon’s white sacred streamers…

Lord Fujiwara no Morikata
Junior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade
Without Office[2]
10

Left and Right have produced poems on the moon, both with the conception of it resembling white sacred streamers hung on the treetops of the pines, while the differences between them are charming, it does not sound as if the poem of the Right has any reason for singling out ‘this midnight’, while nothing appears lacking in the beauty of the Left’s work and thus, once more, it wins.


[1] Shōsan’i-gyō sahyōe no kami Fujiwara ason Shigenori  正三位行左兵衛督藤原朝臣成範

[2] San’i jūshi’ige Fujiwara ason Morikata 散位従四位下藤原朝臣盛方

Daikōtaigōgū no suke taira no tsunemori-ason ke uta’awase 41

Round Five

Left

あさひ山みねの紅葉をみわたせばよもの木末に照りまさりけり

asahiyama
mine no momiji o
miwataseba
yomo no kozue ni
terimasarikeri
When upon Asahi Mountain’s
Peak of scarlet leaves
I turn my gaze,
All over, the treetops
Shine most bright!

Tamechika
81

Right (Win)

紅のやしほの色にめかれすなおなじはもりの神といへども

kurenai no
yashio no iro ni
mekaresu na
onaji hamori no
kami to iedomo
From the scarlet,
Deeply dyed, hues
O, avert not your eyes!
Though the same leaves’ guardian
Deity you are called…

Moromitsu
82

The Left has nothing particular to say and its expression is awkward. As for the Right, a number of learned men seem to have said that one does not compose about the guardian deity of the leaves in relation to trees in general, but about oak trees, yet a great many things have deities to protect them, so I wonder if the guardian deity of the leaves could be a deity for all types of tree—couldn’t it protect any of them? Thus, in this poem, too, couldn’t that be the case? While the concluding ‘though you are called’sounds overly direct, it appears it should win.

Daikōtaigōgū daijin kiyosuke-ason ke uta’awase 23

Round Twenty-Three

Left (Win)

雪ふかみしづのふせ屋もうづもれて煙ばかりぞしるしなりける

yuki fukami
shizu no fuseya mo
uzumorete
keburi bakari zo
shirushi narikeru
Snow so deep that
The peasants’ huts, too,
Are buried, and
The smoke, alone, is
Their only sign!

Kinshige
45

Right

花の春もみぢの秋もしるかりし松の木ずゑもみえぬ白雪

hana no haru
momiji no aki mo
shirukarishi
matsu no kozue mo
mienu shirayuki
By blossom is spring, and
By scarlet leaves is autumn
Known—
The treetops of the pines
Invisible with snow, so white.

Kūnin
46

The Left poem’s conception of ‘sign of smoke’ sounds particularly profound. As for the Right, it is possible for enough snow to fall to conceal a pine’s lower leaves, too, so the poem does not sound satisfying.