忘れ草茂れる宿を来て見れば思ひ軒より生ふるなりけり
| wasuregusa shigereru yado o kitemireba omoinoki yori ouru narikeri |
The day-lilies Are thick around this house I have come to see; Beneath the eaves, my thoughts run wild As the growing plants… |
Minamoto no Shunrai
源俊頼
Tag Archives: noki
Rin’yōshū 330
Winter II: 3
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.
Autumn III: 5
Left.
蘆の屋の蔦這ふ軒の村時雨音こそ立てね色は隱れず
| ashi no ya no tsuta hau noki no murashigure oto koso tatene iro wa kakurezu |
My roof of reeds, Ivy twining on the eaves, is struck By a soft shower Sound is there none, but The hues cannot hide… |
429
Right.
今朝見れば蔦這う軒に時雨して忍のみこそ青葉也けり
| kesa mireba tsuta hau noki ni shigureshite shinobu nomi koso aoba narikeri |
When I looked this morning, The ivy twining on the eaves Was struck by a shower; Only the ferns remember To remain green-leaved. |
430
Neither team has any criticisms to make of the other’s poem, and say as much.
Shunzei’s judgement: Both poems are concern ‘a shower falling on ivy-clad eaves’, with the Left mentioning no sound from a ‘roof of reeds’ and the Right the different hues of ‘fern-remembered eaves’ (shinobu no noki). Thus, there is not much between them. I make them the same quality.
Autumn II: 4
Left.
古の人を聞くにも秋の夜の窓打つ雨はさびしかりけり
| inishie no hito o kiku ni mo aki no yo no mado utsu ame wa sabishikarikeri |
Long ago The ladies, I hear, On autumn nights With rain beating ‘gainst the window Were lonely, as am I… |
367
Right.
軒近き松の風だにある物を窓打ち添ふる秋の村雨
| noki chikaki matsu no kaze dani aru mono o mado uchisouru aki no murasame |
Close by my eaves, Waiting, with the wind through the pines, Striking, The window, beaten by Autumn showers. |
368
The Right complain, ‘In the Left’s poem, the poet seems to hear of the appearance of “long ago ladies”, but what is it that he hears – one would usually expect more, would one not?’ The Left have no criticisms of the Right’s poem.
Shunzei broadly agrees: ‘The Left’s poem, in saying “ladies, I hear” would certainly seem to be recollecting the concubines at the court of Xuanzong, but I wonder if this is clearly enough expressed in the poem? The Right’s final section “The window, beaten by Autumn showers” (mado uchisouru aki no murasame) sounds particularly fine. Thus, the Right wins.’
Summer II: 22
Left (Win).
夕立の雲の水脈より伝ひきて軒端に落つる瀧の白玉
| yūdachi no kumo no mio yori tsutaikite nokiba ni otsuru taki no shiratama |
An evening shower: The clouds form channels Trailing onto My eaves’ edge and dropping A cataract of silver droplets. |
283
Right.
鳴神の空かきくらす夕立にかゝらぬ里もありとこそ聞け
| narukami no sora kakikurasu yūdachi ni kakaranu sato mo ari to koso kike |
Thunder Darkens the sky; This evening shower: A dwelling where it falls not There is, I’ve heard… |
284
The Right have no criticisms to make of the Left’s poem, while the Left merely wonder, ‘Where is the dwelling where the shower “falls not”?’
Shunzei: ‘“The eaves’ edge and dropping a cataract of silver droplets” is particularly well-formed. It must win.’
Summer II: 21
Left (Win).
あづまやの軒にしづくをとゞめをきて程なく晴れぬ夕立の空
| azumaya no noki ni shizuku o todomeokite hodo naku harenu yūdachi no sora |
On all four sides From the eaves droplets Yet hang; Quickly clearing is The evening shower from the sky. |
281
Right.
夕立のほどこそしばしとまりつれなごりも涼しみ山木の陰
| yūdachi no hodo koso shibashi tomaritsure nagori mo suzushi miyamagi no kage |
The evening shower’s Span, but briefly Would I rest here; Coolness, a memento In the shade of mountain trees. |
282
The Right query, ‘The use of “from the eaves droplets” (noki ni shizuku). Surely it should be “on the eaves droplets” (noki no shizuku)?’ The Left respond, ‘These are identical in meaning and have no real difference.’ They then wonder, ‘Whether the Right’s poem has not changed in topic to tree shade?’
Shunzei says simply, ‘Both Left’s latter section, and the Right’s initial section are particularly pedestrian in expression, but the Left’s “From the eaves droplets” is slightly superior.’
Summer II: 6
Left (Win).
たち花の匂を風のさそい來て昔にかへす夜半のさ衣
| tachibana no nioi o kaze no sasoikite mukashi ni kaesu yowa no sagoromo |
Orange blossom Scent upon the breeze Urges Me back to times gone by, In my night-time garb… |
251
Right.
軒近き花たちばなに風過てにほひをのこす蝉の羽衣
| noki chikaki hana tachibana ni kaze sugite nioi o nokosu semi no hagoromo |
Close by my eaves The orange blossom Brushed by the breeze Leaves its scent upon The cicada’s gossamer garb. |
252
The Right team have no particular criticisms to make this round. The Left, however, say that, ‘the expression “the orange blossom brushed by the breeze” (hana tachibana ni kaze sugite) sounds old-fashioned. Furthermore, “cicada’s gossamer garb” (semi no hagoromo) seems somewhat unexpected.’
Shunzei seems to agree, simply saying, ‘The Left’s “urges me back to times gone by, in my night-time garb’ (mukashi ni kaesu yowa no sagoromo) seems particularly fine. It must win.’
Summer I: 10
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.”
Spring II: 20
Left (Win).
おぼつかな何ばかりなるいとゆふの軒端に人のながめ分くらん
| obotsukana nani bakari naru itoyū no nokiba ni hito no nagamewakuran |
How unclear! For what, do The wavering hazes Along the eaves’ edges folks’ Gaze interrupt? |
99
Right.
佐保姫や霞の衣織りつらん春のみ空に遊ぶいとゆふ
| sao hime ya kasumi no koromo oritsuran haru nomi sora ni asobu itoyū |
Has the goddess of Spring A garb of haze A’woven? ‘Tis only in the springtime skies, that The heat haze wavers… |
100
Here, the Right say that, ‘it’s unclear what gaze it is the haze is interrupting,’ but the Left have no comments to make.
Shunzei, however, says, ‘It is not the case that there is no reason to say “For what, do the wavering hazes” (nani bakari naru itoyū). The Right’s poem has “A garb of haze a’woven?”. “A’woven” (oritsuran) does not seem to correspond with the conclusion of the verse. In general terms, it’s banal [kotogoto furinitarubeshi]. The Left’s conclusion is somewhat difficult to interpret [kikiwakigataki yō], but in construction the poem is superb [utazama masari].’