Tag Archives: traveller

Eien narabō uta’awase 18

Round Four

Left

まくずはふ山ぢもはれてあきのよはこゆるたびびとやすき月かな

makuzu hau
yamaji mo harete
aki no yo wa
koyuru tabibito
yasuki tsuki kana
Kudzu vines crawl
Along the mountain paths, so clear
On an autumn night for
A traveller a’crossing
Lit by a clement moon!

Cell of the Fragrant Elephant
35

Right

くまもなきつきのひかりをながめてはひたけてぞしるよはあけにけり

kuma mo naki
tsuki no hikari o
nagamete wa
hi takete zo shiru
yo wa akenikeri
No cloud mars
The moon’s light,
Filling my gaze, as
A sun up high, telling me,
Night leads to bright dawn.

Cell of the Everlasting Truth
36

The poem of the Left has nothing to present in all of its syllables. The poem of the Right resembles a composition by someone drunk out of his mind. As a result, it’s impossible to decide between them.

In the poem of the Left, does ‘clement moonlight’ mean that the moon’s light enables one to traverse a mountain path, which normally one would be unable to make one’s way along because one would expect it to be dark? The diction here is insufficient. As it says in the preface to the Ancient and Modern Collection of Narihira’s poems, ‘excessive conception but lacking in diction, like withered flowers lacking colours, but with a lingering fragrance’. This is a poem in that style, isn’t it. As for the poem of the Right, this, too, has ‘night leads to bright dawn’—the diction here is stilted and the conception lacks elegance. I have to say these poems are of about the same standard.

Naidaijin-ke uta’awase 05

Round Five

Left (T – Tie)

時雨には菅の小笠も水もりて遠の旅人ぬれやしぬらん

shigure ni wa
suga no ogasa mo
mizu morite
ochi no tabibito
nure ya shinuran
In such a shower
A little hat of woven sedge, too,
Drips with water;
A distant traveller
Is drenched, no doubt…

Lady Kazusa
9

Right (M – Win)

霜さえて枯行くをのの岡べなるならの朽葉にしぐれ降るなり

shimo saete
kareyuku ono no
okabe naru
nara no kuchiba ni
shigure furu nari
Chill the frost upon
The sere meadows on
The hillside where
Upon the withered oak leaves
A shower is falling.

Lord Mototoshi
10

Toshiyori states: In the first poem, ‘drips with water’ is vague. In the second poem, ‘hillside where’ lacks smoothness. What are we to make of ‘withered oak leaves’? If leaves have withered away, then they wouldn’t make any sound, would they. Is this even possible?

Mototoshi states: the diction of ‘In such a shower / A little umbrella of woven sedge, too, / Drips with water’ is something which lacks any prior precedent. ‘Dripping with water’ give the impression of a painted pot with a crack in it, so what kind of shower can this be? It would be more normal to refer to having to shelter beneath one’s sleeves. While it is lacking in any superlative features, I feel that the sound of a shower on withered oak leaves is somewhat more commonplace.

Sumiyoshi-sha uta’awase kaō ni-nen 49

Round Twenty-Four

Left (Win)

かぜのおとにわきぞかねましまつがねのまくらにもらぬしぐれなりせば

kaze no oto ni
waki zo kanemashi
matsu ga ne no
makura ni moranu
shigure nariseba
The gusts of wind
I cannot tell apart from
The rustle of the pines roots
For my pillow should no drips
From the shower fall…

Lord Sanefusa
97

Right

たびのいほはあらしにたぐふよこしぐれしばのかこひにとまらざりけり

tabi no io wa
arashi ni taguu
yoko shigure
shiba no kakoi ni
tomarazarikeri
My traveller’s hut
Is lashed by the storm wind’s
Sideways showers—
The brushwood walls
Halt it not at all.

Lord Yorimasa
98

The conception and configuration of the poem of the Left, starting ‘I cannot tell apart from / The rustle of the pines’ and continuing ‘For my pillow should no drips / From the shower fall’ is, once again, truly exceptional! As for the poem of the Right, while it appears to have a charming style and use of diction, even if it is the case that ‘sideways showers’ are a genuine phenomenon, it fails to sound particularly elegant, doesn’t it. In addition, the latter section of the poem, ‘the brushwood walls’, feels slightly lacking in conception. Thus, I make the Left the winner.

Daikōtaigōgū daijin kiyosuke-ason ke uta’awase 04

Round Four

Left (Win)

春の夜はいこそねられねねやちかき梅のにほひにおどろかれつつ

haru no yo wa
i koso nerarene
neya chikaki
ume no nioi ni
odorokaretsutsu
On a night in springtime
I cannot sleep at all, for
Close by my bedchamber
The scent of plum
Ever wakes me from my slumber…

Norimori
7

Right

さ夜ふかみ旅ねの床にかをらずは梅さく宿といかでしらまし

sayo fukami
tabine no toko ni
ka orazu wa
ume saku yado to
ikade shiramashi
Deep within brief night
In a traveller’s bed
No scent reaches me, yet
That plum blooms at this dwelling—
How is it I might know?

Kenshō
8

The Left is particularly evocative. The Right is from an old poetry match.

Love VII: 25

Left (Win).
いざやさは君に逢はずは渡らじと身を宇治橋に書き付けてみん

iza ya sa wa
kimi ni awazu wa
wataraji to
mi o ujihashi ni
kakitsuketemin
So, then,
If I am not to meet you,
I’ll not cross
In my despair, the bridge at Uji,
But just inscribe this here…

Kenshō
1009

Right.
都思ふ濱名の橋の旅人や浪に濡れては恋渡るらむ

miyako omou
hamana no hashi no
tabibito ya
nami ni nurete wa
koiwataruran
His thoughts on the capital,
The bridge at Hamana,
Does a traveller,
Wet by the waves,
Cross while lost in love?

Lord Takanobu
1010

The Gentlemen of the Right state: the Left’s poem has no faults to indicate. The Gentlemen of the Left state: we wonder if the Right’s poem does not sound as if it is only the capital which the poet loves?

In judgement: in the Left’s poem, ‘If I am not to meet you, I’ll not cross’ (kimi ni awazu wa wataraji to)  is particularly charming, having the conception of the tale of Sima Xiangru in Mengqiu, at the bridge into the commandery of Shu, where he says, ‘If I am not aboard a four-horse carriage, I’ll never cross this bridge again!’, and then later was made a Cavalryman in Permanent Attendance, and entered as an imperial messenger. Metaphorically, it also evokes his meeting with Wenjun, and so seems particularly profound. The poem of the Right commences with ‘His thoughts on the capital’ (miyako omou) and then continues with ‘wet by the waves, cross while lost in love’ (nami ni nurete wa koiwataruran). I do not see how one can say that this poem lacks the conception of Love. However, the conception of the Left’s poem seems rare, indeed. Thus, it wins.