Tag Archives: snow

Kinkai wakashū 584

Snow amidst a journey

たび衣夜はのかたしきさえさえて野中の庵に雪降りにけり

tabigoromo
yowa no katashiki
saesaete
nonaka no io ni
yuki furinikeri
In my traveller’s garb
At midnight a single spread sleeve
Is deeply chill, indeed
Around my hut upon the plains
Snow has fallen.[i]

584


[i] See: In a hundred poem sequence: さむしろのよはの衣手さえさえてはつ雪しろしをかのべの松 samushiro no / yowa no koromode / saesaete / hatsuyuki shiroshi / oka no be no matsu ‘Alone in my meagre bedding, / My nightgown’s sleeves / Are deeply chill, indeed; / The first snows lie white / Upon the pines along the hillside.’ Princess Shokushi (Shinkokinshū VI: 662)

MYS VIII: 1441

A poem on warblers by Ōtomo sukune Yakamochi.

打霧之 雪者零乍 然為我二 吾宅乃苑尓 鶯鳴裳

うちきらし ゆきはふりつつ しかすがに わぎへのそのに うぐひすなくも

utikirasi
yuki pa puritutu
sikasuga ni
wagipe no sono ni
ugupisu naku mo
All is darkened by
The ever-falling snow,
But even so
Within the garden of my home
Sings a warbler!

Eien narabō uta’awase 28

Round Seven

Left (Win)

しらゆきのふりしきぬればかづらきやくめのいはばしそことしられず

shirayuki no
furishikinureba
kazuraki ya
kume no iwabashi
soko to shirarezu
Snow, so white
Has fallen, scattering
Upon Kazuraki, that
The broken stone bridge of Kume
Is there no one knows at all.

Lady Kazusa
55

Right

まきもくのあなしひばらもうづもれてかかるみゆきもふればふりけり

makimoku no
anashi hibara no
uzumorete
kakaru miyuki mo
fureba furikeri
In Makimoku
Anashi’s cypress groves
Are buried,
Such a fair fall of snow
Has there been.

Lady Shikibu
56

The Left has neither positives nor negatives. Up to ‘the broken stone bridge of Kume’ shows some imagination. It feels overly remote. The Right’s ‘Anshi’s cypress groves’ is something I’ve not encountered in a poem before. The standard usage is ‘cypress groves of Anashi’. Compared to this, I feel the expression is more unsatisfactory. ‘Such a fair fall of snow / Has there been’ is surprising, too, and not something I’m accustomed to seeing, so the Left seems a bit better at present.

The Left does not appear to have any significant faults. ‘That’ in ‘upon Kazuraki, that’ sounds a bit distant. If you’re talking about a bridge, you should say that you can see across it, shouldn’t you. It is a bridge which it’s impossible to cross, so that’s difficult to say. The Right’s expression ‘Anashi’s cypress groves’ is pedestrian so I would have preferred it omitted. In addition, the final ‘has there been’ feels commonplace. A win for the Left, perhaps.

Eien narabō uta’awase 27

Round Six

Left

ふるゆきに山のほそみちうづもれてまれにとひこし人もかよはず

furu yuki ni
yama no hosomichi
uzumorete
mare ni toikoshi
hito mo kayowazu
With the falling snow
The mountain’s narrow pathways
Are buried;
But rarely did he visit and now
Cannot make his way at all.

Cell of Fragrant Cloud
53

Right

あしたつるみわのひばらにゆきふかみみやぎひくをのかよひぢもなし

ashi tatsuru
miwa no hibara ni
yuki fukami
miyagi hiku o no
kayoiji mo nashi
Reeds stand tall in
Miwa, where the cypress groves
Are deep with snow;
To cut sacred timber, the woodsman
Has no path to tread at all.

Cell of Compassionate Light
54

The Left’s poem, in terms of style and diction, entirely grasps the way someone might feel. What a sense of grief! The Right’s poem is composition that fairly drips and delves into playfulness, but in so doing lacks feeling. Truly, the former poem has superlative qualities, resembling a black dragon’s pearl![i] Thus, the Left must win.

The Left does seem to have been composed but simply stated. It possesses a calm elegance. The Right seems to have been created after a great deal of thought. This poem shows effort and the former such calm that I wish to declare them a tie. This may enrage the poets, but the ignorant may give the appearance of being knowledgeable, as they say. I wonder who composed these…


[i] Riju 驪珠 as an abbreviation of riryū no tama 驪龍の珠 (‘black dragon’s pearl’). Mototoshi uses this analogy deliberately as black dragons were associated with winter. The pearl, which they were often depicted as holding or being located in their throat, was a symbol of the dragon’s spiritual development and a marker of its immortality. This is thus an effusive statement of praise for Shōchō’s poem.

Eien narabō uta’awase 26

Round Five

Left (Tie)

うちきらしあまぎるそらと見しほどにやがてつもれる雪の白山

uchikirashi
amagiru sora to
mishi hodo ni
yagate tsumoreru
yuki no shirayama
Suddenly concealed
By mist, the skies
I glimpsed and
In a moment drifted
Snow covered Shira Mountain with white.

Controller’s Graduate
51

Right

としをへてふし見の山にふるゆきはとこめづらにもおもしろきかな

toshi o hete
fushimi no yama ni
furu yuki wa
tokomezura ni mo
omoshiroki kana
Through all the passing years
Upon Fushimi Mountain
The falling snow
Feels ever fresh
And full of charm!

Kerin’in Graduate

52

The poem of the Left’s ‘Suddenly concealed / By mist, the skies’ is a clear case of repeating the same meaning. In addition, ‘snow covered Shira Mountain’ is one which is snow-capped regardless of whether it’s summer or winter. It’s not a mountain where one would be startled at seeing it ‘suddenly concealed’. The poem of the Right says that ‘through all the passing years the estate at Fushimi…feels ever fresh’, which seems as if this poem is specifying a period when this applies. It’s certainly a bit of a reach to say that this would be charming, but it’s not incongruous. Thus, I make this a tie.

I am unable to grasp the sense of the Left poem’s ‘suddenly concealed’. If it had been ‘concealed with falling’ then that would be better. In addition, I don’t understand the final ‘snow covered Shira Mountain’ either. I would have preferred it if the order had been ‘Shira Mountain’s snow’, but putting the ‘snow’ first seems to lack fluency and so, regretfully I would change this.

The Right’s ‘Fushimi Mountain’ is difficult to understand. It seems that ‘estate’ is a more standard composition, and ‘mountain’ is a novel usage. Having ‘Fushimi’ ‘feel fresh’ is evidence of thought, but even so, ‘mountain’ is vague.

Eien narabō uta’awase 25

Round Four

Left

水のおももみなふるゆきにうづもれてたちゐやなげくいけのにほどり

mizu no omo mo
mina furu yuki ni
uzumorete
tachi’i ya nageku
ike no niodori
The surface of the water
Entirely by the falling snow
Is buried—
Do they sorrow for their diving,
The grebes around the pond?

Cell of the Fragrant Elephant
49

Right (Win)

みよしのに雪ふりぬれば我がやどのならのかれ葉はいとどさびしも

miyoshino ni
yuki furinureba
wa ga yado no
nara no kareba wa
itodo sabishi mo
In fair Yoshino
Snow has fallen, so
At my house
The withered oak leaves are
All the more alone…

Cell of the Everlasting Truth
50

The poem of the Left’s ‘surface of the water entirely buried by snow’ is something that I have never heard before. ‘Grieving grebes’, too, are something I have yet to encounter. Really, what sort of poem is this? As for the poem of the Right, while ‘all the more alone’ and what precedes it fails to sound elegant, at the current time I feel it’s a little bit superior.

It’s extremely difficult to conceive of the surface of a body of what which hasn’t yet frozen being buried in snow. If snow fell extremely heavily, then, surely, the water would overflow, then freeze, and then get buried, wouldn’t it? I might be going a little too far here, though. As for the Right’s poem, is ‘my house’ in Yoshino? Or is it on an estate elsewhere? If it’s on an estate, is the poet looking at the falling snow and imagining Yoshino? It’s vague. Then again, as the poem doesn’t say explicitly that the oaks are buried by the snow, is it only imagining this? How might something be which has not been seen for sure? The oaks here, too, would be like that, as snow is something which doesn’t distinguish where it falls…

Eien narabō uta’awase 24

Round Three

Left

おぼつかないづれいづちのみちならむしをりも見えずふれるしらゆき

obotsukana
izure izuchi no
michi naramu
shiori mo miezu
fureru shirayuki
How strange!
Which is which
Path, I wonder?
Even the laden branches go unseen
In the falling snow, so white.

Retired from the World
47

Right

雪ふかみとなりのさともうづもれてけぶりのみこそしるしなりけれ

yuki fukami
tonari no sato mo
uzumorete
keburi nomi koso
shirushi narikere
So deep the snow, that
The estate next door
Is buried;
Trails of smoke are the only
Sign it’s there!

Senior Assistant Minister Past Lecturer

48

The poem of the Left’s ‘even the laden branches go unseen’ and what follows is both poetic and a familiar usage. As for the Right’s poem, how can ‘the estate next door be buried’ unless it’s the only place that snow is falling and nowhere else? Thus, I feel that the snow falling to conceal the broken branches has more feeling to it.

The Left’s ‘which path’ gives me the impression that there are many of them. This sense of multiplicity is something I can imagine—which is a good thing—and, I think, see me using myself. ‘Laden branches’ are something which occur on peaks deep in the mountains. It might be a bit remiss of me, but I wonder whether I can imagine snow drifting so high on a mountain peak?

As for the Right’s poem, we use ‘next door’ when there’s a fence of some sort between one estate and another, don’t we? As such, saying that the smoke is the sign is rather vague. Even if there’s been a quite extraordinary snowfall, there would be something other to notice as well as the smoke, so this is an error, isn’t it. It would be acceptable to refer to smoke if the estate were further away.