Monkeys 猿
あさまだきならのかれ葉をそよそよと外山をいでてましら鳴くなり
asa madaki nara no kareba o soyosoyo to toyama o idete mashira nakunari | ‘Tis not yet morn, but The withered oak leaves Rustle, as To the distant mountains go The monkeys hooting. |
Akinaka
Monkeys 猿
あさまだきならのかれ葉をそよそよと外山をいでてましら鳴くなり
asa madaki nara no kareba o soyosoyo to toyama o idete mashira nakunari | ‘Tis not yet morn, but The withered oak leaves Rustle, as To the distant mountains go The monkeys hooting. |
Akinaka
Old Folk 老人
あさなあさなみれどむかしのかげならで日にそへおいのますかがみかな
asana asana miredo mukashi no kage narade hi ni soe oi no masukagami kana | Each morn I look, yet yesterday’s Face fails to appear, and With each passing day, old age Is clear within my mirror! |
Tadafusa
Groves 原
あさぢふの露にうはげやそほつらんあしたの原にうづら鳴くなり
asajū no tsuyu ni uwage ya sōtsuran ashita no hara ni uzura nakunari | Is the cogon grass By dew upon its upper fronds So soaked? This morn among the groves The quail are crying. |
Kanemasa
Kindling 薪
太山柴おのがかまどにとりくべてあさけ夕けのけぶりたつめり
miyama shiba ono ga kamado ni torikubete asake yūke no keburi tatsumeri | Brushwood from the mountains’ depths To my kiln have I Taken and kindled, that Both morn and eve The smoke does seem to rise. |
Higo
The Ninth Day of the Ninth Month
いくへともあさしらぎくをえこそ見ね綿おきながらたをる朝は
ikue tomo asa shiragiku o e koso mine wata okinagara taoru ashita wa | However many petals has The white chrysanth’ this morn, I cannot see it, For covered in cotton Will I take it in hand today… |
Fujiwara no Tadafusa
藤原忠房
Topic unknown.
伊勢の海女の朝な夕なにかづくてふ見るめに人を飽くよしもがな
ise no ama no asa na yuFu na ni kazuku teFu mirume ni Fito wo aku yosi mogana |
The diver-girls at Ise Both morn and night do Dive beneath, they say; A seaweed-tangled glimpse of you: If only that would sate me! |
Anonymous
On deer.
さを鹿の朝伏す小野の草若み隠らひかねて人に知らゆな
sawosika no asa pusu wono no kusa wakami kakurapikanete pito ni sirayu na |
The stag Lies in the meadow in the morn, The grass so fresh He cannot hide – O, don’t let others know! |
Anonymous
Frogs (蛙)
時あれやみなぶち山をあさゆけばこのもかのもにかはづ鳴くなり
toki are ya minabuchiyama o asa yukeba konomo kanomo ni kawazu nakunari |
This is not the season for it, yet To Mount Minabuchi I go this morn, and All around and everywhere The frogs are singing. |
Toshiyori
俊頼
Left.
春日には空にのみこそあがるめれ雲雀の床は荒れやしぬらん
haru hi ni wa sora ni nomi koso agarumere hibari no toko wa are ya shinuran |
The springtime sun Alone, into the skies Does seem to lift The skylark: his nest, I wonder, if ‘tis in disarray? |
95
Right (Win).
子を思ふすだちの小野を朝行ばあがりもやらず雲雀鳴也
ko o omou sudachi no ono o asa yukeba agari mo yarazu hibari nakunari |
Caring for her chick, Starting from the nest into the meadow, With the coming of the morn, Without taking flight, The skylark gives call. |
96
The Right team state that the initial and central stanzas of the Left’s poem are ‘grating on the ear’, while the Left snap back that they ‘don’t understand the meaning’ of ‘caring for her chick, starting from the nest’ (ko o omou sudachi), and moreover, having both ‘starting from the nest’ (sudachi) and ‘take flight’ (agari) in one poem is clumsy technique as the meanings are too similar.
Shunzei judges that the initial stanza of the Left’s poem is ‘truly awful’. And, ‘in general, from what we know of how skylarks live, there is no reason to expect that they would heedlessly fly off after fouling their nests. In spring, they raise their young in the fields, and when the evenings are warm, or the spring sun is bright, they remain flying in the sky and look down on their chicks from above. They are birds which swoop and soar. Thus, one cannot say that they heedlessly foul their nests. The Right is in keeping with the skylark’s nature, and in form the poem also appropriately poetic, but because of the distance of the first stanza from the last, it is possible that one might not grasp the sense of the poem on first hearing. “Starting from the nest” (sudachi) and “take flight” (agari) are, though, too similar. However, as the Left’s poem has an unpleasant line, and is contrary to the essence of skylarks, despite its faults, the Right’s poem must win.’