Sent to a lady’s house attached to a frond of fern which had taken on autumn colours.
わが恋もいまは色にやいでなまし軒のしのぶも紅葉しにけり
| wa ga koi mo ima wa iro ni ya idenamashi noki no shinobu mo momijishinikeri | Does my love, too, Now with such passionate hues Reveal itself, I wonder? Secretly beneath my eaves the ferns Have turned scarlet. |
The Hanazono Minister of the Left
Left (Tie)
いはざりき我身古屋の忍ぶ草思ひたがへて種を播けとは
| iwazariki wa ga mi furuya no shinobugusa omoitagaete tane o make to wa |
I did not tell you: My aged home’s Fond ferns To think so lightly of That you scatter seeds about! |
Lord Sada’ie
1031
Right
ながめする心の根より生ひそめて軒の忍ぶは茂る成るべし
| nagamesuru kokoro no ne yori oisomete noki no shinobu wa shigerunarubeshi |
Consoled, My heart’s depths Have grown old, as Beneath my eaves the ferns Have grown thick, indeed. |
Nobusada
1032
The Gentlemen of the Right state: we wonder about the appropriateness of sowing seeds beneath eaves? The Left, in appeal: why not compose a poem in this manner, given ‘even the grass seeds, forgotten’? The Left state: this seems little different from Toshiyori’s poem, ‘Beneath the eaves, my thoughts run wild / As the growing plants…’ (omoinoki yori ouru narikeri).
In judgement: both poems refer to ferns, and the conception of ‘my aged home’ (wa ga mi furuya no) and ‘my heart’s depths’ (kokoro no ne yori) both sound suitable. I make this a tie.
There was a man who had been secretly conversing with a woman who had a husband. When their relationship cooled, seeing that he had little time for her, the woman sent this to him.
我宿の軒のしのぶにことよせてやがても茂るわすれ草かな
| wa ga yado no noki no sinobu ni koto yosete yagate mo sigeru wasuregusa kana |
At my dwelling Ferns grow beneath the eaves Is your excuse; And in the end all that grows lush is The grass of your forgetfulness! |
Anonymous
Left (Win).
深き夜の軒の雫をかぞへても猶あまりぬる袖の雨哉
| fukaki yo no noki no shizuku o kazoetemo nao amari nuru sode no ame kana |
Late at night, From my eaves the droplets I number up, but Still much more drenching Is the rainfall on my sleeves. |
A Servant Girl.
947
Right.
雲とづる宿の軒端の夕ながめ戀よりあまる雨の音哉
| kumo tozuru yado no nokiba no yū nagame koi yori amaru ame no oto kana |
Closed in with cloud, From my dwelling’s eaves I gaze out in the evening; Overwhelming my love Is the sound of rain… |
Nobusada.
948
The Right state: the Left’s poem has no faults. The Left state: we do not understand the Right’s poem at all.
In judgement: the Left’s poem commences with ‘late at night’ (fukaki yo no) and then continues with mention of raindrops – this sounds extremely effective. The Right’s poem, too, starts ‘closed in with cloud’ (kumo tozuru) and concludes with ‘the sound of rain’ (ame no oto kana), which sounds charming, but because the poem is said to be ‘incomprehensible’ or ‘grating on the ear’, despite being one with both a significant conception and an unusual sound, there is no reason for me to shoehorn in my own views, even if much has been overlooked, so this round I will leave it at, the Right is entirely incomprehensible and the Left without fault. Thus, the Left wins.
Left (Win).
訪へかしな庭の白雪跡絶えてあはれも深き冬の朝を
| toekashi na niwa no shirayuki ato taete aware mo fukaki fuyu no ashita o |
I would go a’calling; In my garden the white snowfall Has covered all the tracks; How deep is my sorrow, On this winter morning! |
545
Right.
軒のうち雀の聲は馴るれども人こそ知らぬ今朝の白雪
| noki no uchi ni suzume no koe wa naruredomo hito koso shiranu kesa no shirayuki |
From underneath the eaves To the sparrows’ chirps Have I grown accustomed, yet No one noticed This morning’s fall of snow so white… |
545
The Right state that the Left’s initial line makes their poemsound like a reply. In addition, the final line is ‘overly forceful’ [itau tsuyoku]. The Left merely comment that the Right’s use of ‘sparrow’ (suzume) is ‘inappropriate’.
Shunzei’s judgement: Even though the Left’s poem is not a reply, starting with ‘I would go a’calling’ (toekashi na) is common in the reply style [zōtōtei]. In addition, ‘Winter Mornings’ is not a topic which one needs to approach obliquely. There are only the good and bad points of the poetry. ‘From underneath the eaves to the sparrows’ chirps have I grown accustomed’ (noki no uchi ni suzume no koe wa naruru) is not an expression much used about morning snow. However, the final section of the poem appears fine. ‘Sparrows’ chirps’ (suzume no koe) is, perhaps, somewhat colloquial [zoku no chikaku]. Despite the comment by the gentlemen of the Right that the final section of the Left’s poem is ‘overly forceful’, it is a better ‘Winter Morning’ poem.