au koto wa katano no nobe no fujibakama tare kitemiyo to tsuyu no okuran
Our meeting, so hard: In the hillside meadows grow Violet asters— Who should to come to see them Amongst the fallen dew?
Nakafusa, Former Governor of Awaji 33
Right
色もかもよそへてぞみる蘭ねずりの衣馴れしかたみに
iro mo ka mo yosoete zo miru fujibakama nezuri no koromo nareshi katami ni
Both scent and hue Do I imagine seeing Among the violet asters, Of his patterned robe, So familiar, a reminder they are…
Hyōenokami 34
These poems, both Left and Right, appear to be of about the same quality, but while I am familiar with robes patterned with purple gromwell, I do wonder what it is that is patterning the robes here. Is the poet composing on asters imagining them to be gromwell? Even if that’s the case, the conception is not particularly apparent, so I have to say that the Left is better.
ono ga sumu mine no kogarashi samuki yo wa shika mo momiji no koromo kirurashi
Where he dwells upon The peak, the bitter wind On a night so chill, for The stag, of scarlet leaves Does seem to make a robe.
The Supernumerary Major Counsellor 69
Right
すみのぼる月にうらむる声すなりねられぬ鹿や夜寒なるらん
suminoboru tsuki ni uramuru koesunari nerarenu shika ya yozamu naruran
Climbing clearly At the moon, in despair Does he cry— Sleepless, does the stag Feel night’s chill, perhaps?
Nobunari 70
The Left’s poem has ‘the stag, of scarlet leaves does seem to make a robe’ which sounds charming, and the Right’s poem has ‘sleepless, does the stag feel night’s chill, perhaps’, which appears refined. Thus, they tie.
In the Twelfth Month of Kempō 5 [January 1218], I stayed at a monk’s cell at the Eifukuji on account of a directional taboo. When I returned home the following morning, I left behind a jacket
春まちてかすみの袖にかさねよと霜のころものおきてこそゆけ
haru machite kasumi no sode ni kasaneyo to shimo no koromo no okite koso yuke
Awaiting the springtime, Sleeves of haze, O, layer up! A frosty robe I leave you as I go!
kaze samumi ise no hama ogi wakeyukeba koromo kari ga ne nami ni naku nari
The wind’s so chill, as Through the silver grass upon the beach at Ise I forge my way, that I’d borrow a robe with goose cries Sounding ‘cross the waves!
