Composed on the conception of lingering snow, for the Hundred Poem Sequences Commemorating the Reign of Former Emperor Horikawa.
かすがのゝしたもえわたるくさのうへにつれなくみゆる春のあは雪
| kasugano no shitamoewataru kusa no ue ni tsurenaku miyuru haru no awayuki |
On the plain at Kasuga Sprouting freshly everywhere are Grasses, but atop them Heartlessly, I see The foamy snow of spring! |
Provisional Middle Councillor Kunizane
Left (Win).
見し秋を何に殘さん草の原ひとつに變る野邊のけしきに
| mishi aki o nani ni nokosan kusa no hara hitotsu ni kawaru nobe no keshiki ni |
Of the sights of autumn What should I recall? The fields of grasses Have become but one Single plain within my view… |
505
Right.
霜枯の野邊のあはれを見ぬ人や秋の色には心とめけむ
| shimogare no nobe no aware o minu hito ya aki no iro ni wa kokoro tomekemu |
A frost-burned Plain – so sad: Can one who’s viewed it not Hold the hues of autumn Within his heart? |
506
The Right state that the phrase ‘fields of grasses’ (kusa no hara) ‘sounds poor’ [kikiyokarazu]. The Left state that the Right’s poem is ‘antiquated’ [furumekashi].
Shunzei’s judgement: The Left’s ‘What should I recall? The fields of grasses’ (nani ni nokosan kusa no hara) is charming [en ni koso haberumere]. The gentlemen of the Right’s reasoning for finding fault with ‘fields of grasses’ is highly flawed [mottomo utata aru ni ya]. Murasaki Shikibu was better at writing prose than composing poems. Thus, The Festival of the Cherry Blossoms is particularly charming [koto ni en’naru mono nari]. It is highly regrettable for one to compose poetry without having read The Tale of Genji. The Right’s poem does not appear poor in diction and conception [kokoro kotoba ashiku wa miezaru]. However, it is extremely mundane in style [tsune no tei narubeshi]. The Left’s poem is better, and I make it the winner.
Left (Win).
時分かぬ浪さへ色に泉川柞の杜に嵐吹らし
| toki wakanu nami sae iro ni izumigawa hahaso no mori ni arashi fukurashi |
Ever unchanging, Even the waves have coloured On Izumi River; In the oak groves Have the wild winds blown. |
443
Right.
秋深き岩田の小野の柞原下葉は草の露や染らん
| aki fukaki iwata no ono no hahasowara shitaba wa kusa no tsuyu ya somuran |
Autumn’s deep at Iwata-no-Ono In the oak groves Have the lower leaves by grass Touched dewfall been dyed? |
444
Neither team has any criticisms to make of the other’s poem.
Shunzei’s judgement: The total effect of the Left’s ‘even the waves have coloured on Izumi River’ (nami sae iro in izumigawa) is most superior [sugata wa yū narubeshi]. However, there does not appear to be any element linked to the final section’s ‘wild winds’ (arashi) in the initial part of the poem. The Right has ‘have the lower leaves by grass touched dewfall been dyed?’ (shitaba wa kusa no tsuyu ya somuran), without, in the initial section having an expression like ‘treetops stained by showers’ (kozue wa shigure somu), and I wonder about having the lower leaves on the trees touched by ‘dewfall on the grass’ (kusa no tsuyu). The Left’s ‘have the wild winds blown’ should win.
Left.
朝まだき庭も籬も野分して露をきあがる草の葉もなし
| asa madaki niwa mo magaki mo nowakishite tsuyu okiagaru kusa no ha mo nashi |
At the cusp of dawn My garden and my fence, too, After the gales, Are drenched in dew Flattened blades of grass – every one. |
359
Right.
夕間暮むら雲迷ひ吹風に枕定めぬ花の色いろ
| yūmagure muragumo mayoi fuku kaze ni makura sadamenu hana no iroiro |
In the dim dusk light Crowding clouds confusedly Blown by the breeze Unable to rest are all The many blooms. |
360
The Right state that ‘linking “gales” with “drenched” is a poor expression’, while the Left feel that they have no criticisms of the Right’s poem.
Shunzei, again, broadly agrees: ‘What are we to make of the Left’s poem with a fence left standing in a garden after a gale? The Right’s “crowding clouds confusedly” is fine, indeed. Although the term “pillow” is unsuitable in this context, the Left’s “drenched in dew” cannot possibly be right here, either, and so the Right wins.”
Left.
百草の花もいかにか思ふらんあな情なの今朝の野分や
| momokusa no hana mo ika ni ka omouran ana nasakena no kesa no nowaki ya |
A myriad of grasses’ Bloom: o what To think? How heartless was The gale this morning! |
351
Right (Win).
吹亂る野分の風の荒ければ安き空なき花の色色
| fukimidaru nowaki no kaze no arakereba yasuki sora naki hana no iroiro |
Blown into confusion by The gale’s gusts So fierce; No respite to bloom For any of the blossoms! |
The Provisional Master of the Empress’ Household Office.
352
Neither Left nor Right can find anything to remark upon this round, and say as much.
Shunzei states, ‘“How heartless” (ana nasake na) is, indeed, an intriguing choice of words. The Right’s “blown into confusion” (fukimidaru) is reminiscent of the Tamakazura’s poem in Genji and all the more charming for it, is it not? Furthermore, the Left’s “blooms: o what” (hana mo ika ni ka) and the Right’s “no respite to bloom” (yasuki sora naki) are of equivalent quality, but the Left’s “myriad of grasses” lacks a linking term. Including “blown into confusion” makes the Right’s poem slightly superior, I would say.’
Left (Win).
暮そめて草の葉なびく風のまに垣根涼しき夕顔の花
| kuresomete kusa no ha nabiku kaze no ma ni kakine suzushiki yūgao no hana |
At the first fall of dusk Blades of grass rustle In the breeze; On the brushwood fence coolly Blooms a moonflower. |
271
Right.
日數ふる雪にしほれし心地して夕顔咲ける賤が竹垣
| hikazu furu yuki ni shioreshi kokochishite yūgao sakeru shizu ga takegaki |
Day after passing day Of snowfall has draped it, I feel, Moonflowers blooming on A peasant’s bamboo fence. |
272
The Right state, ‘Both “first fall of dusk” (kuresomete) and “in the breeze” (kaze no ma ni) are unusual expressions.’ The Left in return say, ‘It sounds as if the bamboo fence is weighed down with moonflowers!’ (The Left here are interpreting the verb shioru to mean ‘bend down’ which is one of its senses. I have not followed this in my translation, in line with Shunzei’s judgement, below.)
Shunzei comments, ‘The gentlemen of the Right have stated that “first fall of dusk” (kuresomete) and “in the breeze” (kaze no ma ni) are unusual expressions, but I do not feel this to be particularly the case. As for yuki ni shiroreshi, surely this simply means that the fence is draped. In any case, however, “on the brushwood fence, coolly” is the superior poem in every way.’
Left.
夏草のもとも拂はぬ故郷に露よりうへを風通ふなり
| natsu kusa no moto mo harawanu furusato ni tsuyu yori ue o kaze kayounari |
The summer grasses Are yet uncut At this ancient home of mine; Over the fallen dewdrops, The sound of gusting wind… |
203
Right (Win).
夏草のなかを露けみ分くる野はわが故郷の垣根なりけり
| natsu kusa no naka o tsuyukemi wakuru no wa wa ga furusato no kakine narikeri |
Within the summer grasses Dewy depths, Forging ‘cross the plain and My ancient home’s Brushwood fence appears. |
204
The Right team query, ‘How is it that the wind can pass “over the fallen dewdrops” (tsuyu yori ue o)?’ The Left content themselves with saying that the Right’s poem is ‘difficult to grasp’.
Shunzei, though, remarks, ‘The Left’s “over the fallen dewdrops” is a wonderfully charming expression. It is the initial “are yet uncut” (moto mo harawanu) which is extremely difficult to understand. The Right’s configuration and diction seem particularly fine [sugata kotoba yoroshiku koso haberumere], though, so it is, just, the winner.’
Left (Tie).
夏山の草葉のたけぞ知られぬる春見し小松人し引かずは
| natsuyama no kusaba no take zo shirarenuru haru mishi komatsu hito hikazu wa |
Summer in the mountains, and The grasses reach so high, that Had they but known In springtime, on the glimpsed pine-seedlings Folk would have laid no hand… |
201
Right (Tie).
道もなき夏野の草の庵かな花にけがるゝ庭と見しまに
| michi mo naki natsuno no kusa no iori kana hana ni kegaruru niwa to mishi ma ni |
Within a trackless Summer field does my grass Hut stand now; While on fallen blossom staining My garden did I rest my gaze… |
202
The Right wonder, ‘Whether summer greenery recalls the mountains as much as it does the plains? The overall point of the poem seems difficult to grasp.’ The Left have no particular comments to make.
Shunzei states, ‘The gentlemen of the Right have already questioned the suitability of greenery in relation to mountains rather than the plains. In addition, what is one to make of blossom falling round a hut, as opposed to a mountain lodge. If the topic was “Field Lodges”, then there are some autumn blooms, but cherry and plum blossom, and the like, fail to fall that much on the plains. Thus, I would agree with the Right’s comments on the Left’s poem. The Right’s poem, though, lacks logic. The round must be a tie.’
Left.
夏來てぞ野中の庵は荒れまさる窓とぢてけり軒の下草
| natsu kite zo nonaka no io wa aremasaru mado tojitekeri noki no shitagusa |
Summer has come, and Out upon the plains, the hut Has gone to ruin – Windows sealed by Grasses growing ‘neath the eaves. |
199
Right (Win).
わが宿のよもぎが庭は深し誰分けよとか打ちも拂はん
| wa ga yado no yomogi ga niwa wa fukashi dare wakeyo to ka uchi mo harawan |
My dwelling’s Garden is all overgrown Deep as deep can be, but With no-one to force a passage through I’ll not sweep it back! |
200
The Right have no criticisms to make of the Left’s poem. The Left, though, wonder, ‘What is the meaning of “sweep” (uchiharau) in relation to a garden?’
Shunzei comments: ‘The poems of both Left and Right are superb in configuration and diction [sugata kotoba yū ni haberi]. However, the Left, by saying “gone to ruin” (aremasaru) about a hut on the plains, gives the impression it is talking about the beginning of winter, just after the end of autumn. Furthermore, the poem also gives the impression of being composed on the topic of “Field Lodges” (notei). As for the Right, it is certainly possible to sweep away an overgrown garden, as well as the dust from one’s bed, so I see no problems with this usage. Saying “summer’s deep” is by no means unpleasant. The Right wins.”