Gosenshu 5

Gosen wakashu Volume 5: Autumn 1 後撰和歌集巻第五　秋上

The importance of autumn to the waka poets of the Heian period cannot be overstated. The 227 poems in the three autumn volumes comprise nearly half of the seasonal poems, a similar ratio to the KKS. The GSS uses not only the autumn imagery from the KKS, but liberally includes love poems. Many of them rely on a pun with the word aki, which can mean the season of autumn, or a lack of fulfillment. In love poetry, the latter typically refers to the feeling one party has when the love affair is not going well, or the idea that one of the members has become tired of the other. This pun is so common that I will not mention it every time it occurs; it should perhaps be considered as underlying the entire volume.

217

是貞親王の家の歌合に

At Prince Koresada's poetry competition

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

にはかにも風のすずしくなりぬるか秋立つ日とはむべもいひけり

nihaka ni mo                  Oh how suddenly
kaze no suzusiku              The wind has changed and become
nari-nuru ka                  Cooler on this day!
aki tatu hi to ha             No wonder they are saying
mube mo ihi-keri              That autumn has now started.

Prince Koresada's poetry competition

A competition held probably in 892. It seems to have centered on autumn poems, and was a major source of autumn poetry for the KKS. The GSS takes three autumn poems from it.

--

As might be expected from a poetry competition poem, this is a witty poem on the relation of the naming of seasons to the feel of the air. It is reminiscent of SIS 1, where just hearing that it's spring makes you see mist on the mountain. The beginning of the KKS autumn volume also uses the autumn wind:

秋きぬと目にはさやかに見えねども風の音にぞおどろかれぬる

It is not clear to the eye that autumn has come, but I get surprised by the sound of the wind.

KKS 170, by Tsurayuki, is also similar:

川風の涼しくもあるかうち寄する波とともにや秋はたつらむ

The wind off the river is cold! Perhaps autumn has come along with the approaching waves.

Public poems like this are relatively uncommon in the GSS, but as with the spring volume, the compilers begin by introducing seasonal themes through this public, artificial poetry, which will then be followed by examples of its use in occasional or private poetry.

218

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

[Poet unknown]

うちつけに物ぞ悲しきこのはちる秋の始めをけふぞとおもへば

utituke ni                    All of a sudden
mono zo kanasiki              I feel sad for no reason.
ko no ha tiru                 Because I think that
aki no hazime wo              The beginning of autumn,
kehu zo to omohe-ba           When leaves scatter, is today.

--

The poetry contest poem is followed by an anonymous poem that could be seen as having a love connotation, but is basically just a seasonal autumn poem. Here, the falling leaves, which is the major theme of autumn, is connected to a general sadness. The use of the tochiho (inverted syntax) fronts the sudden feeling of sadness that results.

This poem appears in the Wakan roeishu paired with KKS 169 (see above).

219

物思ふ侍りけるころ、秋立つ日、人につかはしける

At a time she was worrying, on the first day of autumn, she sent this to a person

[Poet unknown]

たのめこし君はつれなし秋風はけふよりふきぬわが身かなしも

tanome-ko-si                  You I relied on
kimi ha turenasi              Have now become cold to me.
akikaze ha                    The wind of autumn
kehu yori huki-nu             Has started blowing today.
waga mi kanasi mo             I am sad you care no more.

--

After the first two poems introducing the start of autumn and autumn wind, we have an anonymous love poem by a woman who has been abandoned by a man (alternatively, she is using this language to invite him to visit after an absence.)

The bottom part may be based on KKS 819:

あしべより雲居をさしてゆく雁のいやとほざかるわが身かなしも

The goose is flying away, heading from the reeds to the clouds above, and I am sad.

Here too, the initial seasonal image becomes a metaphor for the poet's sadness.

220

思ふこと侍りけるころ

At a time when she was worrying about something

[Poet unknown]

いとどしく物思ふやどの荻の葉に秋とつげつる風のわびしさ

itodosiku                  It adds even more,
mono omohu yado no         On the ogi plants that grow
wogi no ha ni              In my worry house
aki tuge-turu              The sadness of the wind that
kaze no wabisi-sa          Heralds the start of autumn.

ogi

A grass, the "amur silvergrass", that is an autumn image in poetry.

--

Like 219, this is the poem of a woman forgotten by her lover. The autumn wind adds even more sadness to her already sad existence. Perhaps this poem was inspired by the anonymous KKS 221:

なきわたる雁の涙やおちつらむ物思ふ宿の萩の上の露

The tears of the crying goose seem to be falling -- the dew on the hagi in the house of worry.

Another source might be SIS 139 by Tsurayuki, composed in 918:

荻の葉のそよぐ音こそ秋風の人に知らるる始めなりけり

People first recognize the autumn wind when they hear it rustling the leaves of the ogi plant.

221

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

[Poet unknown]

秋風のうち吹きそむるゆふぐれはそらに心ぞわびしかりける

akikaze no                 On an evening when
uti-fuki-somuru            The autumn wind suddenly
yuhugure ha                Blows for the first time,
sora ni kokoro zo          My heart, not for a reason,
wabisikari-keru            Turns to sorrow as I gaze.

sora

This plays on the sky, where the wind is and the poet is gazing, and also sora ni, which means "for no reason", or "restless", among other things.

--

This continues the theme of the autumn wind suddenly springing up, and the connection between the autumn wind, the beginning of fall, and the sorrow felt. By itself this would have no particular love connotation, but given the surrounding poems we may once again imagine a woman who has been abandoned by her lover.

The imagery is probably suggested by KKS 787, by Tomonori (in the Love 5 volume):

秋風は身をわけてしも吹かなくに人の心のそらになるらん

The autumn wind does not split a person in two, but it seems that it makes the heart restless.

222

[Circumstance unknown]

大江千里

[Oe no Chisato]

露わけしたもとほすまもなきものをなど秋風のまだきふくらん

tuyu wake-si                 Though there is no time
tamoto hosu ma mo            To dry my sleeves, wet through from
naki mono wo                 Walking through the dew,
nado akikaze no              Why does the wind of autumn
madaki fuku-ran              Seem to be blowing early?

--

The surface meaning of this poem is that the poet's robes are wet from making his way through the dew soaked plants, and the cold autumn wind is blowing early (either too early for the season, or early in the morning). The underlying love meaning is after the man has parted from the woman. As he makes his way home through the dew (suggesting tears), he wonders why the woman has already forgotten him (using the usual play on aki mentioned at the beginning of this volume).

The imagery of this poem may be based on SKKS 1374, a reworking of MYS 10.1994 that appeared in the Hitomaro collection of the early Heian period):

夏草の露分け衣着もせぬになど我が袖のかはく時なき

I am not wearing the clothing that I used to walk through the dew-soaked summer plants, so why are my sleeves never dry?

SIS 720, by Taira no Yukitoki, is another similar poem:

朝まだき露分けきつる衣手のひるまばかりに恋しきやなぞ

Why do I long for you already, just in the time that my clothes are drying from making my way through the morning dew?

However, the above poems both express the man's longing to see the woman again, whereas Chisato's poem seems to be wondering if the woman has so quickly forgotten him. This is somewhat unusual imagery, and the Shinsho thought that maybe this was another example of Chisato using a line of Chinese verse to construct a poem. Even in that case, though, the love meaning would still be under the surface.

223

女のもとより七月ばかりにいひをこせて侍りける

This was sent from a woman in the seventh month.

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

秋はぎを色どる風の吹きぬればひとの心もうたがはれけり

akihagi wo                 When the wind has blown
irodoru kaze no            Staining the leaves red of the
huki-nure-ba               Autumn bush clover,
hito no kokoro mo          I then come to suspect too
utagaha-re-keri            Your heart will fade and scatter.

bush clover

The hagi is a plant that flowers in autumn, and the reddish color of its blossoms was often related to the red color of the autumn leaves.

--

223 and 224 are an exchange between an unnamed woman and Ariwara no Narihira; as is common in the GSS, his name is suppressed in the prose preface here. The image of the falling leaves is often connected to the idea of a man losing interest in a woman, bolstered by the usual wordplay on aki.

This poem is perhaps related to KKS 714 by Sosei:

秋風に山の木の葉のうつろへば人の心もいかがとぞ思ふ

When the autumn wind makes the leaves scatter, I also wonder about the heart of you (my love).

Some alternate manuscripts of the GSS read itu ka to zo omohu ("I wonder when your heart will fade as well") for the last line, making the parallel stronger. The GSS poem uses a different image to suggest that just the beginning of autumn makes the woman doubt Narihira's heart.

This poem and the following are part of Tales of Yamato 160; see the commentary on the next poem for details.

224

返し

Response

在原業平朝臣

Lord Ariwara no Narihira

あき萩を色どる風は吹きぬとも心はかれじ草ばはらねば

akihagi wo                Though it comes to pass
irodoru kaze ha           That wind has blown and colored
huki-nu tomo              The fall bush clover,
kokoro ha kare-zi         My heart won't leave and wither,
kusaba nara-ne-ba         Since it is not made of grass.

Leave and wither

This is a very common wordplay with the verb karu, meaning both "wither" and "part from".

--

Narihira's response picks up on the imagery of the woman's -- even if the autumn wind colors the bush clover, the wind of boredom will not cause his heart to wither (and he will not part from her). Hisamatsu Sen'ichi considered this poem simple and direct in its meaning, but skillful in construction.

As mentioned above, Tales of Yamato 160 begins with this poetic exchange. The woman is Lady Somedono, who cannot be certainly identified. The story continues saying that Narihira did in fact stop visiting her, and then after some time asked her to sew robes for him (a common duty of a wife in the Heian period), and a further poetic exchange follows. It is interesting that the next poem in the GSS is about a man who asks a woman he is no longer visiting to sew robes for him. This is perhaps just a coincidence, as Sato Komei has demonstrated that the compilers of the GSS do not seem to have borrowed directly from Tales of Yamato (if it was completed by the time their work on the GSS ended).

225

源昇朝臣、時々まかり通ひける時に、文月の四五日ばかりに、「七日の料の装束調じて」といひつかはして侍りければ

When Lord Minamoto no Noboru was visiting from time to time, on the 4th or 5th of the 7th month, when he sent a message saying "Make some clothing for the Tanabata festivities"

閑院

Kan'in

あふことはたなばたつめにひとしくてたちぬふわざはあえずぞありける

ahu koto ha                      We meet so rarely,
tanabata-tume ni                 And that, to be sure, is like
hitosiku-te                      The weaving girl's case:
tati-nuhu waza ha                Sadly my sewing does not
ae-zu zo ari-keru                Match up to her example.

Kan'in

An unknown woman who is also the author of 1175 (where the prose preface says she lived in a mountain village), and some commentaries identify her as the "Lady Kan'in" of Tales of Yamato 45 as well.

Tanabata fesitivites

On the 7th day of the 7th month, to celebrate the one day where the celestial Orihime (weaving girl of the poem) can meet her lover Hikoboshi, men would gather in formal clothing, drink, and compose Chines poetry.

--

The Tanabata legend and festival was already a significant poetic trope of the KKS, and it reappears here. Noboru's request was not unusual, as can be seen from the Kagero Diary. There, Kane'ie several times requests clothing from the Mother of Michitsuna, even when their relationship has cooled. Kan'in's bitter response uses the festival's imagery to criticize him for his lack of visits. The poem was either used to refuse the request, or it accompanied the clothing and had the dual purpose of humbling her ability while criticizing Noboru.

The poems from here to 249 are about the Tanabata legend, forming a significant block of poetry in the early autumn season. Many of them are love poems, but even the ones that are not explicitly love poems can have a hidden love as well -- the idea of lovers able to meet only rarely is a common one in Heian love poetry.

226

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

よみ人も

Also the poet

天河渡らむそらもおもほえずたえぬ別れと思ふものから

amanogawa                   I can't find my way
watara-mu sora mo           The place in the sky to cross
omohoe-zu                   The Heaven River
tae-nu wakare to            Though I know that this parting
omohu mono kara             Is not for ever after.

sky

The word sora here refers both to the sky where the heavenly river is, but also a distracted, sorrowful feeling at the parting.

--

This is another Tanabata poem. It can be a poem written in the voice of Hikoboshi (examples of which are found in the KKS), or it might be a poem written by a man leaving his lover in the morning. The tae-nu wakare (literally "a parting that does not break") seems like a contradiction, providing the interest of the poem.

227

七月七日に「夕方まで来む」といひて侍りけるに、雨降り侍りければまで来で

On the 7th day of the 7th month he said "I will come this evening", then it rained and he did not come.

源中正

Minamoto no Nakatada

雨ふりて水まさりけり天河こよひはよそにこひむとや見し

ame huri-te                  Rain has fallen and
mizu masari-keri             The water has risen up,
amanogawa                    In heaven river.
koyohi ha yoso ni            This night I did not think that
kohi-mu to ya mi-si          I'd long for you from afar.

Prose preface

The preface contains nothing indicated when the poem was written or who wrote it, but this is typical of the poem-tale style of the GSS' prefaces.

--

The long series of love poems continues, with another on the Tanabata theme. Nakatada uses the image of Hikoboshi unable to cross the heavenly river to apologize for his own failure to come due to rain. Kifune says that Nakatada knew this was a poor excuse but decided to send the poem anyway because of the imagery of the day, hoping to have some fun with the exchange.

228

返し

Response

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

水まさり浅きせしらずなりぬともあまのと渡る舟もなしやは

midu masari                    Even if water
asaki se sira-zu               Has risen so you don't know
nari-nu to mo                  The river shallows,
ama no to wataru               How can there be not a boat
hune mo nasi ya ha             To cross the heavenly port?

--

The woman's response rejects Nakatada's excuse, playing on the Tanabata imagery of Nakatada's poem. In Chinese tradition, Orihime crosses on a bridge of magpies to see Hikoboshi. However, the MYS and KKS (e.g. 177 or 212) record alternate traditions where Orihime takes a boat or wades across a shallow portion of the river. Usually it is Orihime who visits Hikoboshi in the legends, but poetry often swaps the roles to fit with Heian customs of men visiting women.

229

七日女のもとにつかはしける

On the 7th day, he sent this to a woman.

藤原兼三

Fujiwara no Kanemi

織女もあふよありけり天河この渡りにはわたるせもなし

tanabata mo               Even Orihime
ahu yo ari-keri           Has a night that she can meet.
ama no gaha               My heaven river,
kono watari ni ha         When I look at the crossing,
wataru se mo nasi         There are no shallows to ford.

--

This is another love poem on the Tanabata imagery. Kifune thinks the context is an upset man sending a letter to a woman who has refused to respond to him. However, the poem appears in the Shuishu (649) as an anonymous poem with no context -- in that sense it could simply be a set poem on the sorrows of unrequited love.

A very similar poem by Emperor Murakami appears in the Shoku gosenshu (916)

今夜さへよそにやきかむわがためのあまのかはらはわたるせもなし

Do I really have to hear about you from afar, even on this night? My heavenly river has no shallows to cross.

230

かれにける男の、七日の夜まできたりければ、女のよみて侍りける

A man who had stayed away came on the night of the 7th day, and the woman read this.

ひこぼしのまれにあふよのとこ夏は打ちはらへどもつゆけかりけり

hikobosi no                   Like Hikoboshi,
mare ni ahu yo no             The nights we meet come rarely,
tokonatu ha                   The summer pink bed
uti-harahe-domo               Though I wipe the dust away,
tuyu-kekari-keri              It remains sodden with dew.

Stayed away

The word karu is used in love poetry to indicate that the man has stopped visiting the woman.

Author

Many texts delete "and the woman read this" from the prose preface and add "poet unknown", conforming the preface to a more standard one for imperial collections. The text as given is more typical of poem tales, and these sorts of prefaces show up here and there in the GSS.

Summer pink bed

The tokonatu (pink) flower here is used to play on toko (bed). The word has a poetic association with dew, suggesting the woman's tears.

Wipe the dust

This is an image of the woman preparing her house for the man's visit.

--

The meaning here is fairly clear; another love poem on the Tanabata theme. The phrasing may come from KKS 188:

ひとり寝る床は草葉にあらねども秋くるよひは露けかりけり

The bed I sleep alone on is not grass, but on autumn nights it is wet with dew.

Another poem that mention the pink in connection with the "abandoned love" theme in include one of Yugao's poems in the "Hahakigi" chapter of the Tale of Genji:

打ち払ふ袖も露けきとこなつに嵐ふきそふ秋もきにけり

The sleeves I use the wipe away the summer pink bed are wet with tears, and the autumn, bringing the blowing storms, has come.

Katagiri notes that there is no particular reason why the pink should be used here -- it's a summer image, not one associated with Tanabata, and there is nothing in the prose preface that would indicate its use. He suggests that this may have originally been a poem on a screen painting, with pinks growing near the house. The use of the image is still somewhat incongruous, though.

231

七日、人のもとより、返事に「今宵会はん」といひをこせて侍りければ

On the seventh day, [she] got a response from a man saying "I will come tonight."

こひこひてあはむと思ふゆふぐれはたなばたつめもかくぞあるらし

kohikohi-te                   With endless longing
aha-mu to omo-hu              I know that we will soon meet
yuhugure ha                   On this seventh night,
tanabata-tume mo              Princess Orihime, too
kaku zo aru-rasi              Must feel exactly like this!

--

The feeling of the poem is clear enough, but the use of the Tanabata imagery does raise a question. Kigin thought that the poem showed the joy of waiting, but this would be out of keeping with the typical Tanabata idea. Kudo thinks that this their first meeting, perhaps also reading the situation as joyful. I think Kifune's idea is more accurate; if kohikohi-te is intended to have a positive connotation, there may be an ironic feeling about it.

The anonymous KKS 176, read in Orihime's voice, is a parallel:

こひこひて逢ふ夜はこよひあまの河霧立ちわたりあけずもあらなん

I have longed for this night we can meet -- O heavenly river, do not become clouded with mist!

232

返し

Response

たぐひなき物とは我ぞなりぬべきたなばたつめは人めやはもる

taguhinaki                   I must have become
mono to ha ware zo           Someone for whom there is
nari-nu beki                 No comparison:
tanabata-tume ha             Does Princess Orihime
hitome ya ha moru            Worry about people's gaze?

--

The man's response says that while she compares herself to Orihime, he can't compare himself to anyone, because Orihime and Hikoboshi didn't have to hide their love like they do.

Kudo doesn't think this response matches very well with 231, and notes that in the Ise Collection this appears as a response to a different poem, by the Emperor:

逢ふほどと河をへだてて恋ふるとはたなばたつめに何かことなる

I stand at the river waiting for our meeting; how is this any different from Orihime?

But 232 seems like a reasonable response to 232, especially if you imagine a context beyond the prose preface given.

233

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

[Poet unknown]

あまの河流れてこひばうくもぞあるあはれと思ふせにはやく見む

amanogawa                    While heaven's river
nagare-te kohi-ba            Flows on, if I long for you,
uku mo zo aru                I'll only suffer:
ahare to omohu               I want the chance to see you
se ni hayaku mi-mu           While I still feel love for you.

flows

nagare-te indicates the flow of the Heavenly River. It also suggests nagarahe-te, which means a long time passing (Shinsho, Katagiri), and perhaps nakare-te, meaning crying (Kifune).

mo zo

This particle combination indicates a guess at a possible bad outcome.

chance

se means the shallows in the river to cross, but also an opportunity (to meet). nagaru, uku ("suffer" and "float"), and se are all poetic associations with kawa (river).

--

Although this poem has no explicit Tanabata imagery, it seems to be written in the voice of Hikoboshi, waiting for the chance to cross to see Orihime. The added meaning is that the poet (perhaps a man) wants to see his lover right now, before their love wanes. The web of poetic associations matches with the river imagery.

234

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

玉鬘たえぬ物からあらたまの年の渡りはただひとよのみ

tamakadura                     Our love, like the vines,
tae-nu mono kara               Does not break apart and yet
aratama no                     Passing the river
tosi no watari ha              In the passing of the year,
tada hitoyo nomi               Comes on just this night alone.

Vines

tamakadura is a pillow word for tae-nu (not break).

Year

aratama is a pillow word for "year". In the MYS version this reads sa nuraku ha ("sleeping in this way").

Passing

The watari suggests the passing of time and the crossing of the heavenly river.

--

This is another Tanabata poem, although no explicit tanabata words appear in the poem. It seems to be a variation of MYS 10.2078, which is also said to be a poem on Tanabata. The use of the pillow words fits the archaic nature of the poem.

235

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

秋の夜の心もしるくたなばたのあへるこよひはあけずもあらなん

aki no yo no                  It is clear to see
kokoro mo siruku              The heart of long autumn nights
tanabata no                   If only this night
ahe-ru koyohi ha              When the weaver meets her love
ake-zu mo ara-nan             Could go on without dawning.

--

The meaning of the first two lines is that we can see that autumn nights care for us because they are long, giving us more time to meet our lovers. This poem might also be in the voice of Orihime or Hikoboshi. Kifune says that the technique in this poem lies in the first line, where the "heart of autumn nights" can also be read as a "long heart" -- that is, one that will stay faithful throughout the years. See KKS 176 (given above) for a parallel.

236

契りけん事の葉今は返してむ年のわたりによりぬるものを

tigiri-ken                    The words that I heard
koto no ha ima ha             You pledge to me, now I shall
kaesi-temu                    Return them to you.
tosi no watari ni             I relied on you to come
yori-nuru mono wo             At least once a year, and yet...

Relied

The verb yoru also suggests leaves (the "words") floating nearby.

--

Although tanabata is not explicitly mentioned here, the wording alludes to the legend. Like Hikoboshi, the man has pledged to visit her. Although Hikoboshi at least visits once a year, this man can't even manage that. The term tosi no watari is used in other tanabata poetry.

The first two lines recall KKS 736, composed by Fujiwara no Yoruka as she was returning old love letters.

頼めこし言の葉今は返してむわが身ふるればをき所なし

The letters of pledge you sent me, now I shall return them. As I grow older there is no place for me, nor for the letters.

237

七日、越後蔵人につかはしける

On the seventh day, he sent this to Echigo no Kurodo.

藤原敦忠朝臣

Lord Fujiwara no Atsutada

逢ふ事の今夜過ぎなば織女におとりやしなんこひはまさりて

ahu koto no                   If the night passes
koyohi sugi-na-ba             Without us able to meet
tanabata ni                   To Hikoboshi
otori ya si-nan               I will not lag far behind
kohi ha masarite              My longing is greater still.

Echigo no Kurodo

Unknown, but evidently a gentlewoman in the palace who has a male relative (or husband) serving in Echigo province.

Hikoboshi

Although the base text reads 織女, read as tanabata, this most likely refers to Hikoboshi. Examples of tanabata referring to Hikoboshi can be seen elsewhere in this volume. Either Teika did not care about the kanji representation, or he read this as a (jokingly?) braggadacio poem that Echigo herself would feel great longing if she was not able to meet Atsutada that night.

--

This is another in the long sequence of love poems on the Tanabata theme. Kudo sees the interest of the poem in the contrast between otoru (lag behind) and masaru (exceed).

238

七日

On the seventh

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

織女のあまのとわたるこよひさへをち方人のつれなかるらん

tanabata no                   Even on this night
ama no to wataru              When Hikoboshi crosses
koyohi sahe                   The Heaven River
wotikata hito no              You on the opposite side
turenakaru-ran                How can you still be so cold?

--

By itself this poem should probably be read as one by a man, complaining that a woman he wants to see won't open up to him even on Tanabata. However, in the Atsutada Collection this poem comes immediately after 237. Although the poem is not attributed to Echigo, it can be read as her response to Atsutada's complaint above. The poem also appears in the Asatada Collection, but this is presumably just a copying mistake.

239

七夕をよめる

Read about Tanabata

[Poet unknown]

天の河とほき渡りはなけれども君がふなでは年にこそまて

ama no gaha                The heaven river
tohoki watari ha           Does not have a long crossing
nakere-domo                But Hikoboshi,
kimi ga hunade ha          For the launching of your boat,
tosi ni koso mate          I wait an entire year.

--

This is another Tanabata-themed poem, read in Orihime's voice, with a direct meaning. It is found in a slightly differing form in the Man'yoshu. It is also in the Hitomaro collection, which is mostly anonymous poems from the Man'yoshu. Perhaps working off of this, the SIS and the Wakan roeishu include this poem, attributed to Hitomaro.

Shoku gosen wakashu 207, by Tameie, seems to use this poem as a honka although it's in the Summer volume.

天の川遠き渡りになりにけり交野のみののさみだれのころ

The way across the heavenly river has become long! In the 5th month rains at Mino in Katano.

240

[Read about Tanabata] [Poet unknown]

あまの河いはこす浪のたちゐつつ秋のなぬかのけふをしぞまつ

ama no gaha                  The waves rise and fall
iha kosu nami no             Past the heaven river's stones
tati-wi-tutu                 As I sit and stand
aki no nanuka no             Today, autumn's 7th day,
kehu wo si zo matu           This is the day I wait for!

Come and go

tati-wi refers both to the rising and falling of the waves, and Orihime standing up and sitting down over and over again from expectation or worry.

Autumn's 7th day

Since autumn began in the 7th month under the old lunar calendar, this is the equivalent of 7/7 (Tanabata).

--

Like the previous poem, this is a direct, simple poem read in Orihime's voice. A similar poem was composed in 906 by Tsurayuki for a screen painting:

秋風の夜の更けゆけば天の川河瀬に浪の立つゐこそ待て

The night of autumn wind deepens, and she waits, standing and sitting, just as the waves of the Heavenly River rise and fall over the stones.

241

[Read about Tanabata]

紀友則

Ki no Tomonori

けふよりはあまの河原はあせななむそこゐともなくただわたりなん

kehu yori ha                   Starting from today
ama no kahara ha               The wide heavenly river
ase-na-namu                    I wish would dry up!
sokowi to mo naku              As if there were no bottom
tadawatari-nan                 I would directly walk through.

No bottom

Rather than "bottomless" this evidently means that there is no water, and thus no bottom. Katagiri interprets as "I wouldn't have to worry about my destination."

--

This is a poem read in Hikoboshi's voice, waiting expectantly for his chance to cross the river. Kifune reads 239-240 as a poem and response by the two lovers, followed by this one from Hikoboshi to finish the small set of poems. It resembles a poem in the Tsurayuki collection:

天の川水絶えせなむ鵲の橋もわたさでただ渡りなむ

If only the heavenly river would dry up! Then I could just walk over without crossing the bridge of magpies.

The fourth line is a bit difficult to understand, and varies especially widely in different sources. The Kokin waka rokujo version of the poem reads yodomu to mo naku (without getting stopped). The Tomonori collection reads either futise to mo naku (without shallows or deep places), or soyomi to mo naku (without anything stopping me).

The last reading also occurs in a number of alternate manuscripts, including Fujiwara no Yukinari's text. Many early commenters expressed doubt over what the correct reading should be here. The meaning of soyomi is not completely certain, although it shows up in a few other poems dealing with Tanabata. On the manuscript that is the base text for this translation, Teika writes "The text of [Fujiwara no] Kiyosuke reads soyomi, but the family manuscript says sokohi. The Ogisho comments on this." The Ogisho simply notes the difference. In the Hekiansho Teika wonders if the soyomi reading might be better, and Tameie echoes this in his own commentary. Teika mentions the soyomi reading once again in notes at the end of the manuscript, showing that the reading of this poem was a problem that he was unable to solve.

As the Shinsho notes, futise is the reading that is the easiest to understand, but it is found in almost no sources.

242

[Read about Tanabata]

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

天の河流れてこふるたなばたの涙なるらし秋のしらつゆ

ama no gaha                  The Heaven River
nagare-te kohuru             Flows on and for long she waits
tanabata no                  And this, it does seem,
namida naru-rasi             Is the tears of the weaver --
aki no siratuyu              The white dew in the autumn.

flows

nagare-te puns on the flow of the heavenly river as well as "long", and nakare-te (crying).

--

The comparison of dew to tears is well known in Heian poetry, and other poems portray the dew as the tears of geese. In this case, the dew on 7/7 must be Orihime's tears as she waits for Hikoboshi.

243

[Read about Tanabata] [Poet unknown]

あまの河せぜの白浪たかけれどただわたりきぬまつにくるしみ

ama no gaha                 In heaven rivr
seze no siranami            The white waves among the shoals
takakere-do                 Where I cross are high
tada watari-ki-nu           But I have walked and arrived.
matu ni kurusimi            Waiting is much too painful.

--

This is another poem in Hikoboshi's voice with a simple, direct meaning. It is a slight variant of MYS 10.2085, and perhaps derives from a traditional song.

244

[Read about Tanabata] [Poet unknown]

秋くれば河霧わたる天の河かはかみ見つつこふる日のおほき

aki kure-ba                  When autumn has come
kawa kiri wataru             The river mist rolls along
ama no gaha                  The heaven river
kahakami mi-tutu             Up the river she gazes
kohuru hi no ohoki           On many days longs for him.

kahakami

The role of this word is unclear in the poem. Shinsho thought it a miscopying. Kifune thinks that Orihime is looking up the river where Hikoboshi will launch his ship (then to be carried down the river). Kudo interprets it as the surface of the water.

--

This poem could be in either Orihime or Hikoboshi's voice. Kigin found the scenery evoked by the poem interesting, and Kifune highlighted the drama of the scene, as Orihime tries in vain to spot Hikoboshi through the mist.

MYS 2030 is as follows:

秋されば河霧立ちて天の川河に向かひて恋ふる夜ぞ多き

When autumn comes, she looks towards the river where mist is rising; many are the nights she longs for him.

The GSS poem could be an alternate version of this, but the differences seem too great for that. Kifune suggests it may be a rewriting of the poem.

245

[Read about Tanabata] [Poet unknown]

天の河こひしきせにぞ渡りぬるたきつ涙に袖はぬれつつ

ama no gaha                I've crossed back over
kohisiki se ni zo          The shoals of Heaven River
watari-nuru                While I long for her.
taki-tu namida ni          The tears streaming from my eyes
sode ha nure-tutu          Drench my sleeves again and again.

shoals

se here indicates both the shoals of the river that Hikoboshi is crossing, the time when he longs, and the time he was able to meet Orihime.

--

This is a poem in Hikoboshi's voice, as he returns across the river after meeting Orihime -- just as he loves her the most, he has to go back. Compare KKS 182, by Minamoto no Mineyuki:

今はとてわかるる時はあまの河わたらぬさきに袖ぞひちぬる

Now is the time of parting, and before I cross the river of heaven my sleeves are drenched in tears.

Kudo seems to interpret this poem differently, as a love poem where the man has shown up early. In other words, the watari-nuru is not the crossing back after meeting, but crossing to meet. He may take this meaning because the GSS still has several more Tanabata poems remaining, so a poem where Hikoboshi is returning is not appropriate here. This poem appears in different places in alternate texts (after 240 or 243).

242, 243, and 245 all appear in the Tomonori Collection, but this is presumably a mistake by the compiler, who accidentally interpreted the 241 attribution to apply to the next set of poems (some GSS manuscripts lack 244). The influence of this collection was enough for 245 to reappear in the Shin senzaishu attributed to Tomonori -- either because the compilers felt they were correcting the GSS' mistake, or they simply did not realize the poem had already appeared in an earlier collection.

246

[Read about Tanabata] [Poet unknown]

織女の年とはいはじ天の河雲たちわたりいざみだれなん

tanabata no                Let us not say that
tosi to ha iha-zi          This is the weaver girl's year
ama no gawa                As the clouds rise up
kumo tati-watari           On the river of heaven,
iza midare-nan             Come, let us throw away caution.

--

The overall meaning of the poem is clear; the speaker doesn't want to have rare meetings like Orihime and Hikoboshi. He suggests that they throw caution to the wind and meet, not caring about what others think. This would be like if Orihime and Hikoboshi used the cloud cover to meet when it was not 7/7. Exactly what tanabata no tosi means is hard to say, but the intent of the metaphor seems clear enough. Kudo provided Chinese poetic precedent for clouds being associated with Tanabata.

Kifune suggests reading 243-246 as a continuous series of poems between Orihime and Hikoboshi, or 242-246 as a love poem tale by lovers using the Tanabata imagery.

247

[Read about Tanabata]

凡河内躬恒

Oshikochi no Mitsune

秋の夜のあかぬ別れをたなばたはたてぬきにこそ思ふべらなれ

aki no yo no               On the autumn night
aka-nu wakare wo           She parts from him, not fulfilled,
tanabata ha                Does Orihime:
tatenuki ni koso           Her thoughts must be disarrayed
omohu bera-nare            Like her weaving warp and weft.

Weaving

The meaning of this symbol is not immediately clear. Most commentaries, pre-modern and modern, take it to mean that her thoughts are in disarray thinking of various things, connecting this to a metaphor of the various colors that make up the weaving. Kifune and Kudo cite poems from Ise and Tsurayuki that support this reading. Katagiri disagrees, saying that Orihime is thinking of the weaving she will have to do throughout the year before she can see Hikoboshi again.

--

The set of poems on Tanabata closes with two by Mitsune and Tsurayuki, plus one by Kanesuke who was often a patron to the two KKS-era poets. This poem, in the voice of Orihime, is about their parting.

248

七月八日のあした

The morning of the 8th day of the 7th month

兼輔朝臣

Lord Kanesuke

たなばたの帰る朝の天の河舟もかよはぬ浪もたたなん

tanabata no                  On the morning when
kaeru asita no               Hikoboshi returns on
ama no gaha                  The heaven river
hune mo kayoha-nu            If only waves would rise up
nami mo tata-nan             High so that boats could not sail.

Hikoboshi

Tanabata seems to be once again used to refer to Hikoboshi, unless Kanesuke was going back to the original Chinese version of the legend where Orihime was the one to visit Hikoboshi.

--

The final group of poems on the day after Tanabata continue. This can be a poem read in Orihime's voice, or it could be the poet himself talking about Orihime's situation.

Kanesuke wrote another poem similar to this one, which was read when various people gathered with the Emperor and read poetry. Perhaps the GSS poem was composed in the same situation. Kanesuke's other poem was eventually included in the last Imperial collection, the Shin shoku kokin wakashu (382):

七夕をいだしてのちは天の河浪高きまで風も吹かなん

After Orihime has seen Hikoboshi off, if only the wind would blow the waves high on the heavenly river!

249

おなじ心を

On the same topic

つらゆき

[Ki no] Tsurayuki

あさとあけてながめやすらんたなばたはあかぬ別れのそらをこひつつ

asato ake-te                The door of morning
nagame ya su-ran            She opens and seems to gaze
tanabata ha                 The weaver, sadly,
aka-nu wakare no            At the dawning sky, longing,
sora wo kohi-tutu           After the too short parting.

Door of morning

Judging from the use of asato in the MYS and KKS this seems to literally means a door or window that you open upon waking up. But there would seem to be at least the resonance of the pun on aku meaning "open" and "dawn".

--

The GSS positions the three poems in this block as if Mitsune, Kanesuke, and Tsurayuki were sitting together on the 8th day and composing these poems. In the Tsurayuki Collection the prose preface says this poem was sent to Mitsune, and the SIS includes the poem again with that preface. Thus it would seem that the GSS editors deliberately obscured the context to make this poem fit better with the preceding two.

250

思ふ事侍りて

When they had something to think about

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

秋風のふけばさすがにわびしきは世のことはりと思ふものから

akikaze no                  When autumn wind blows
huke-ba sasuga ni           Then indeed we discover
wabisiki ha                 What suffering is:
yo no kotohari to           I think that this is the way
omohu mono kara             The way the world works, and yet...

Something to think about

"Worry" about; perhaps a woman worrying about her age or men not visiting.

wabisiki ha

The grammar of the third line has resulted in a number of explanations, but I think Matt Treyvaud and Yoshihiro Mani on the PMJS list for suggesting that the first three lines should all be read as one phrase that describes what is the "nature of the world" (yo no kotohari).

--

After the long set of Tanabata poems, the collection returns to the autumn wind and the sorrow it brings, perhaps as a palate-cleansing introduction to the next block of poems on insects. Although this poem could be taken simply as a poem of worry or sorrow, the prose preface suggests a woman's sorrow from love, and the word yo (world) is often used to refer to relations between men and women.

The sentiment is similar to KKS 777, a poem in the fifth love volume (where the love affairs have ended):

来ぬ人をまつ夕暮れの秋風はいかに吹けばわびしかるらむ

In evening when I wait for him who does not come, how strongly must the autumn wind blow for me to suffer this much?

251

題知らず

Topic unknown [Poet unknown]

松虫のはつこゑさそふ秋風はをとは山よりふきそめにけり

matumusi no                  The autumn wind which
hatukowe sasohu              Which invites the first crying
akikaze ha                   Of the bell crickets
wotoha yama yori             From the Otoha Mountain
huki-some-ni-keri            It seems to begin to blow.

Bell crickets

The term matumusi ("Pine insects") seems to refer to the suzumusi, the bell cricket.

begin to blow

Kifune reads some as a pun on "begin" and "dye (the autumn leaves)", but it may be too early in the season for autumn leaf poems, even in suggestion (though see KKS 256 quoted below, which suggests Otoha mountain colors early).

--

The first poem on autumn insects is an anonymous poem that reads like a public style poem read at a gathering or for a contest. The "pine insects" (matumusi) are an autumn image in all of the first three imperial collections. The Shinsho has high praise for this poem, describing a scene where the poet feels the cool of the autumn wind and hears the first voices of the crickets, then looks up at Otoha mountain and assumes the wind came from there.

But why Otoha mountain? One possibility is a pun, with woto (sound) suggesting the sound of the crickets, or perhaps even the 羽 character used to write the mountain's name connecting to the wings of the insects. KKS 256 by Tsurayuki associates the mountain with autumn wind:

秋風の吹きにし日よりをとは山みねの梢も色づきにけり

Ever since the day the autumn wind started to blow, the branches on Otoha Mountain have been tinged with color.

Katagiri has a more intricate explanation -- the term hatukowe is usually used with birds, as in KKS 143 (about cuckoos). KKS 142 has the cuckoos coming from. Under this reading, the GSS poem is a deliberate echo of KKS 142-143, and the mountain that usually provides the cuckoos is now providing the bell crickets. This interpretation may be reaching too far, though.

252

[Topic unknown]

業平朝臣

Lord [Ariwara no] Narihira

ゆく蛍雲のうへまでいぬべくは秋風ふくと雁につげこせ

yuku hotaru                 Flitting fireflies,
kumo no uhe made            If you can fly high enough
inu-beku ha                 Even over clouds,
akikaze huku to             Let the geese in the sky know
kari ni tuge-kose           That autumn wind is blowing.

If you can

besi has various meanings; most translators and commentors seem to take it as a mark of completion or plan, but I prefer the potential reading suggested by Kudo.

--

The firefly (hotaru) is not used in seasonal poetry in the first three collections except here, and in one spring poem in the SIS. The other five uses are all in love or miscellaneous poetry. Its only use in the GSS is in this poem by Narihira, a pre-KKS poet. The Shinsho praises the evocative scenery of the poem: Narihira sits on a cool night, watching fireflies and feeling the cool breeze, waiting for the autumn geese to arrive. "[Narihira's] poetry is peerlessly elegant."

The poem appears in the Narihira Collection with a prose preface that sets the scene in summer, when Narihira is looking at the flying insects. Although fireflies are usually associated with summer rather than autumn, the poem is clearly an autumn poem. This poem is also used in Tales of Ise 45, where this poem is read after a girl dies of love for the hero. The imagery then becomes metaphorical for the girl's soul.

253

[Topic unknown]

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

秋風の草葉そよぎてふくなへにほのかにしつるひぐらしのこゑ

akikaze no                  The wind of autumn
kusaba soyogi-te            Rustles the grass and the leaves
huku nahe ni                And just as it blows
honoka ni si-turu           I heard, ever so faintly,
higurasi no kowe            The voice of the cicadas.

--

The autumn insect poems continue, with the higurasi (cicada), an insect that featured in a few KKS autumn poems as well. The name echoes hi kurasu (the sun goes down). KKS 204 and 205 both seem to furnish imagery or language for this poem:

ひぐらしのなきつるなへに日はくれぬと思ふは山の陰にぞありける (204)

Just as the cicadas cried I thought the sun set, since I am in the shade of the mountains.

ひぐらしのなく山里の夕暮れは風よりほかに訪ふ人もなし (205)

In the dusk of the village where cicadas cry, there are no visitors but the wind.

MYS 10.2231 is also similar.

萩の花咲きたる野辺にひぐらしの鳴くなるなへに秋の風吹く

In the field where bush clover blooms, as soon as the cicadas cry the autumn wind blows.

This poem has garnered significant praise, with Hisamatsu Sen'ichi including it in both of his selections of Heian poetry. In the Senshaku he praises the scene evoked by the poem, and in the Hyoshaku he notes that the entire poem focuses on the faint early autumn imagery. Kifune also calls it a fitting poem for the "delicate" early autumn. Katagiri sets the scene as the dusk of a hot autumn day, when the cool wind begins to blow.

254

[Topic unknown]

つらゆき

[Ki no] Tsurayuki

ひぐらしの声きく山のちかけれやなきつるなへにいり日さすらん

higurasi no              The mountain where one
kowe kiku yama no        Hears the cries of cicadas
tikakere ya              Is it nearby here?
naki-turu nahe ni        Maybe that's why when they cry
irihi sasu-ran           The setting sun's light appears.

--

The poems on cicadas continue with a poem by a public-spirited poem by Tsurayuki. It seems to be a direct response to KKS 204, although here it's the light of the setting sun that appears rather than the darkness. The poem relies on the same pun with hi kurasi (the sun goes down). Kifune notes that this is typical of Tsurayuki's poetry -- it has a deft technique and construction, but at the same time seems to express the exact scenery the poet is seeing. One can easily imagine the cicadas crying in the light of the setting sun.

255

ひぐらしの声きくからに松虫の名にのみ人を思ふころかな

higurasi no                      When I hear the cry
kowe kiku kara ni                Of the cicadas, just then
matumusi no                      Pine insects, which bear
na ni nomi hito wo               The "pine" name, so too I think
omohu koro kana                  Of one only known by name.

Author

In the base text, the next poem that has an author is 262. This would make 255-261 all poems by Tsurayuki, although none of them appear in his collection. However, all other texts not derived from the base text (including Teika's other manuscripts) have よみ人しらず (poet unknown) here. Only Kifune emends the text in his edition, but this is a clear mistake and 255-261 should be regarded as "poet unknown". In the base text, this poem has been squeezed into the edge of the manuscript to fit on the page, and it may be that in doing so Teika accidentally left off the よみ人しらず. On the other hand, several of the poems in 255-261 appear in the Kokin waka rokujo attributed to Tsurayuki.

na ni nomi

This may mean "someone I have only heard of".

--

This is a love poem. The structure of the poem relies on several plays -- the higurasi name for the cicada also suggests night falling, and the matu of matumusi suggests waiting (or "pining") for someone. If na ni nomi refers to someone the poet has only heard of, that would indicate that a man is reading this poem. Perhaps he is waiting for a response from a letter. This could also be interpreted as a woman waiting for a man to come, especially if we take this as a variation on a theme from KKS 772:

来めやと思ふものからひぐらしのなくゆふぐれは立ち待たれつつ

I thought you might come tonight, but in the evening where cicadas cry I keep standing and waiting.

256

心有りてなきもしつるかひぐらしのいづれももののあきてうければ

kokoro ari-te                    They were crying out
naki mo si-turu ka               With hearts like those of humans.
higurasi no                      The fall cicadas
idure mo mono no                 Like all things in the autumn
aki-te ukere-ba                  Are somehow bathed in sorrow.

sorrow

The grammar of mono no aki-te ukere-ba is a bit uncertain, and some commentaries suggested aki ha instead (they begrudge their autumn sorrow). Katagiri explains this as mono no ukere-ba with aki-te inserted parenthetically.

--

This is another anonymous poem on the cicadas. The poet is putting his own feelings of sorrow onto the bugs, which are crying in concert with him.

257

秋風の吹きくるよひは蛬草のねごとにこゑみだれけり

akikaze no               It is a night when
huki-kuru yohi ha        Autumn wind comes blowing, and
kirigirisu               The crickets call out
kusa no ne goto ni       On every blade of the grass
kowe midare-keri         Voices a cacophony.

blade of grass

ne may be a pun on "sound" and "root/blade of grass".

--

The expression of this poem is simple and direct, simply paiting an autumn scene. It shares imagery with MY 10.2158:

秋風の寒く吹くなへ我が宿の浅茅が本にこほろぎ鳴くも

When the autumn wind blows cold, at the root of the reeds in my garden, crickets cry.

The kirigirisu is a type of cricket (different from the suzumusi) that also shows up in KKS poems.

In the Kokin waka rokujo this poem is attributed to Tsurayuki. As I mentioned in the commentary to 255, only Teika's Tenpuku 2 manuscript attributes 255-261 to Tsurayuki, probably due to a mistake. However, the attributions in the KWR may indicate a more complicated situation lying behind the issue.

258

わがごとく物やかなしききりぎりす草のやどりにこゑたえずなく

waga gotoku                 Just the same as me,
mono ya kanasiki            Are they sad for some reason?
kirigirisu                  The crickets in here
kusa no yadori ni           In my dwelling made of grass
kowe taezu naku             Cry and cry, never ceasing.

Dwelling made of grass

This is either just a humble term for the poet's house, or it might indicate a rustic hermitage by someone who has forsaken the world.

--

This is another anonymous poem, personifying the cry of the crickets as a metaphor for the poet's own sorrow. There are several other poems that share imagery or wording with this poem. First, from the Kokin waka rokujo:

我ごとくものやかなしききりぎりすまくらつとへに夜もすがらなく

Just the same as me, are they sad for some reason? The crickets gather around my pillow and cry all night long.

KKS 197, by Toshiyuki:

秋の夜のあくるもしらずなく虫はわがごとものやかなしかるらむ

Paying no attention to the dawning of the autumn night, are the crying insects sad for some reason just the same as me?

KKS 578, also by Toshiyuki:

わがごとく物やかなしきほととぎす時ぞともなく夜ただなくらむ

Just the same as me, are they sad for some reason? The cuckoos, though out of season, cry constantly through the night.

259

こむといひしほどやすぎぬる秋ののに誰松虫ぞこゑのかなしき

komu to ihi-si         They promised to come,
hodo ya sugi-nuru      But that time seems to have passed.
aki no no ni           In the autumn field
tare matumusi zo       For whom do the crickets wait,
kowe no kanasiki       Crying with such a sad voice?

crickets

As in poem 255, there is a pivot with tare matu (who do they wait for?) and matumusi (pine crickets).

--

This poem returns to the pine crickets. They are personified as waiting for a lover who never came. This can be read as a witty poem where the crying of the "pine" crickets is interpreted as waiting for a lover. Or, it could be read by a woman who is using the crying of the insects as a metaphor for her own situation.

There are several other poems very close in either imagery or exact wording. First from Wakan roieshu 322:

今こんと誰たのめけん秋の夜をあかしかねつつ松虫のなく

Who promised they were coming soon? The pine crickets cry in the autumn night, seeing the dawn with difficulty.

SIS 181 is particularly close:

契りけんほどやすぎぬる秋の野に人松虫の声の絶えせぬ

The promised time seems to have passed. In the autumn field, the pine crickets cry ceaselessly, waiting for their lover.

In the Kokin waka rokujo, this poem is attributed to Tsurayuki. See the comment on 255 and 257.

260

秋ののにきやどる人もおもほえずたれを松虫ここらなくらん

aki no no ni           In the autumn field
ki-yadoru hito mo      I don't think that anyone
omohoe-zu              Has come to lodge there.
tare wo matumusi       Then who are they waiting for,
kokora naku-ran        Many crying pine crickets?

--

This is the same imagery and wordplay as the previous poem. This poem leans more towards a witty seasonal poem with a hint of a love theme, rather than one read by a woman. Two other poems end with the same last lines. One is KKS 203:

もみぢ葉の散りてつもれるわが宿に誰を松虫ここらなくらむ

In my garden covered with fallen autumn leaves, who are the many pine crickets waiting for?

And from the Kokin waka rokujo:

秋の野の露に濡れつつたれ来とか人松虫のここらなくらむ

In the autumn field getting drenched with dew, who are they waiting to come, the many crying pine crickets?

All of these are basically the same idea but with different specific scenes.

261

あき風のややふきしけばのをさむみわびしきこゑに松虫ぞ鳴く

akikaze no                 When the autumn wind
yaya huki-sike-ba          Gradually gets stronger
no wo samu-mi              The field becomes cold
wabisiki kowe ni           So in a sorrowful voice
matumusi zo naku           The pine crickets are crying.

The pine crickets are crying

The version of this poem in the Kokin waka rokujo as well as some alternate manuscripts reads musi zo naku-naru (I hear insects crying).

--

This is the last of the block of anonymous poems on autumn insects. Although it can simply be a description of the scene, Katagiri says that it could also be a woman waiting for a man who has given her up.

A poem in the Kokin waka rokujo has the same beginning:

秋風のやや拭きしけばきりぎりすうべもよもぎの宿をかるらし

When the autumn wind gradually gets stronger, the crickets barge in and borrow the reed house.

262

[Topic unknown]

藤原元善朝臣

Fujiwara no Motoyoshi

秋くれば野もせに虫のおりみだるこゑのあやをばたれかきるらん

aki kure-ba                  When autumn arrives
no mo se ni musi no          The field is full of insects
ori-midaru                   In confused crying
kowe no aya wo ba            Weaving cloth with their voices,
tare ka kiru-ran             But who would wear such a mess?

Weaving cloth

The poem depends on the pun of kowe no aya meaning "tone of their voice" and "cloth woven from voice". Then ori-midaru refers to the chaotic weaving by the voice. Some alternate texts, and the version in the Kokin waka rokujo, read ori-tumeru instead, which perhaps refers to gathering the weaving together.

--

The series of poems returns to named authors. Using an elegant pun, this poem is more like public-style Heian court poetry, as opposed to the love poems or simple descriptions of scenery that have come earlier. Kifune notes the additional technique of interpreting something heard as something seen.

263

[Topic unknown]

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

風さむみなく秋虫の涙こそくさは色どるつゆとおくらめ

kaze samu-mi               The chilling wind blows,
naku akimusi no            Thus it must be just those tears
namida koso                Of autumn insects
kusa ha irodoru            That lie as dew on the grass
tuyu to oku-rame           Turning the plants to amber.

Autumn insects

akimusi is a rare term, that seems to occur nowhere else in the imperial anthologies. Some alternate manuscripts and Edo-period editions read matumusi instead, as does the version of this poem in the Shinsen man'yoshu.

--

As with the previous poem, this is a poem that involves a witty court-style elegance. Of course representing tears as dew is commonplace, and the personification of the insects is standard as well. Most commentaries explain that these tears are "tears of blood", which show up in a number of Heian love poems. Katagiri offers an alternate idea -- other Heian poems contain the idea that the coloring of the leaves is caused by dew. This poem tells us that this dew is the tears of the insects.

This poem also hints at the changing colors of the autumn leaves. This will not show up as a major theme for quite a while. Here, it is not the leaves on the trees that are turning colors, but the grasses of the field.

264

秋風の吹きしく松は山ながら浪立ち帰るおとぞきこゆる

akikaze no                  The wind of autumn
huki-siku matu ha           Blowing strongly through the pines
yama nagara                 Though on a mountain
nami tati-kaeru             One can hear the sound of waves
oto zo kikoyuru             Crashing in and receding.

--

The wind appeared again in the previous poem. This poem picks up on the wind, and with the next poem, compares the sound of the wind through the pines to other poetically appropriate sounds. As Kigin notes, there is an additional resonance here because wind is what is said to make the waves rise. Kifune also draws attention to the lack of doubt in the poem. Often in these mitate poems, there are suffixes of doubt or supposition, but here we have the direct statement that the wind through the pines sounds like waves. The idea can be found in Chinese poetry, but also in other waka. SIS 453 is a screen painting poem by Tadami:

尾上なる松の梢はうちなびき浪の声にぞ風も吹きける

The branches of the pines on the mountains rustle, and the wind blows through with the sound of waves.

A celebratory poem from the KKS, 360:

住江の松を秋風吹くからに声うちそふる沖つ白波

As the autumn wind blows through the pines of Sumi bay, the white waves in the sea add their voice.

However, both of these poems seem to be literally the sounds of waves -- Tadami's screen painting is about the Takasago pines, close to the sea, and the KKS poem involves the bay of Sumi. Perhaps the GSS poem was written with poems like this in mind.

Finally, Kifune reads 251-264 as a series of poems in pairs, almost like a poetry competetion -- a reading that may be bolstered by the unusual number of poems that are drawn from competitions in this section. He also says that 251 and 264 both involve mountains, creating a bookend.

265

是貞の親王の家の歌合せに

Read at Prince Koresada's poetry competition

壬生忠岑

Mibu no Tadamine

松のねに風のしらべをまかせては龍田姫こそ秋はひくらし

matu no ne ni                  The tuning of the wind
kaze no sirabe wo              She entrusts to the sound of
makase-te ha                   The strong root pine trees;
tatutahime koso                It is Princess Tatsuta
aki ha hiku-rasi               Who seems to strum the autumn.

Sound of the strong root pine

ne plays on the root of the pine, and the sound. Some manuscripts, and the version of this poem found in the poetry competition and the Shinsen man'yoshu, switch the ni and wo particles in the first two lines. This results in "She entrusts the sound of the pines to the tuning of the wind."

Princess Tatsuta

A goddess of autumn venerated in Nara. She appears in KKS 298 as an autumn image.

--

This poem involves the sound of the wind through the pines, similar to the previous. Here, we have the sound expressed as the goddess of autumn playing a koto. Poems 167 and 168, in the summer volume, compared Fukayabu's koto playing to the sound of the wind, so this was a positive image.

SIS 372 has a similar idea:

松のねは秋のしらべに聞こゆなり高くせめあげて風ぞひくらし

In the sound of the pines I hear the tuning of autumn. The wind is playing with the frets turned up.

This is a 物名 (mono no na) poem hiding higurasi (cicada) in the final line.

266

秋、大輔が太秦のかたはらなる家に侍りけるに、荻の葉に文をさしてつかはしける

In autumn, when Taifu was in a house near Uzumasa, he sent this letter attached to a leaf of bush clover.

左大臣

Minister of the Left [Fujiwara no Saneyori]

山里の物さびしさは荻のはのなびくごとにぞ思ひやらるる

yamazato no                 The loneliness of
mono sabisi-sa ha           The village in the mountains
wogi no ha no               When bush clovers' leaves
nabiku goto ni zo           Softly rustle in the wind,
omohi-yara-ruru             My thoughts are sent there towards you.

Taifu

A woman who is represented in the GSS in love exchanges with a number of men.

Uzumasa

A place close to Kyoto, the site of the Koryu-ji temple.

--

This is a love poem, continuing off the theme of the autumn wind blowing through leaves. Why the bush clover in particular should be used here is not clear, but assuming the poem was composed in autumn, it would have been an appropriate flower to send. Perhaps there were bush clovers around Taifu's house. Of course the autumn wind suggests the wind of sorrow or lassitude (aki). The imagery in this poem has been introduced in poem 220 above. Taifu's response (if any) is not given, but 950-951 is an exchange between Taifu and Saneyori, so she did sometimes responsd.

A few manuscripts read wabisi-sa instead of sabisi-sa; this is the same term used in 220 above, as well as in KKS 214.

267

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

小野道風朝臣

Lord Ono no Michikaze

ほにはいでぬいかにかせまし花すすき身を秋風にすてやはててん

ho ni ha ide-nu           The stalks have appeared.
ika ni ka se-masi         Now what can be done for them?
hanasusuki                The susuki grass
mi wo akikaze ni          Will its seeds in autumn wind
sute ya hatete-n          Be scattered, then end its life?

--

This poem can be read as a simple poem about the susuki, but this is an unlikely reading. The susuki plant is used to connect to ho ni idu (the stalks appear) in the KKS and even in the MYS. In both collections the phrase ho ni idu plays on hon'i idu, referring to one's hidden feelings of love being known to the world. The susuki appears in KKS 242 and 243, but even there, in a collection that usually downplays the love elements of seasonal poems, the poems have a strong love meaning.

Therefore the secondary meaning of this poem is "My love for you has been revealed. What shall I do? Like the susuki grass, will my body be abandoned in the wind of your callousness (aki) and die?" mi suggests both body and perhaps "fruit" or "seeds". Perhaps the poem was sent attached to a susuki plant, if this was actually sent to a person.

Some alternate manuscripts indicate that this poem was also sent to Taifu, like the previous one. The GSS has several exchanges between Michikaze and Taifu (e.g. 889-890).

268

二人の男に物いひける女の一人につきにければ、今ひとりがつかはしける

Two men were corresponding with a woman, and she entered a relationship with one, then the other one sent this.

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

あけくらしまもるたのみをからせつつたもとそほつの身とぞなりぬる

akekurasi                All day and all night
mamoru ta no mi wo       Fruit of the field I guarded
kara-se-tutu             Is now harvested
tamoto sohotu no         I have become a scarecrow
mi to zo nari-nuru       Sleeves wet with the dew of tears.

scarecrow

tamoto sohotu plays on "sopping wet sleeves" and "scarecrow in the field".

--

This poem uses unusual imagery to portray the woman being taken from the man by another. The scarecrow is used both to match with the field and harvest imagery, but also as an image of the poet's isolation. In the KKS, the scarecrow is found only in the book of haikai comic poems (1027), showing that the image was not considered refined or elegant. Here it seems to be used only for its literal image, but the long poem SIS 574 uses the same pun on "wet sleeves" as found here.

269

返し

Response [Poet unknown]

心もておふる山田のひつちほは君まもらねどかる人もなし

kokoro mote               Of its own accord
ohuru yamada no           It grew in the mountain field,
hitutiho ha               The wild stalk of grain,
kimi mamora-ne-do         Though you don't watch over it
karu hito mo nasi         There is no one who reaps it.

Wild stalk of grain

The word hituhiho refers to a plant that grows out of the stump of an already harvested grain; such plants would not bear useful fruit or seeds.

--

The woman's response continues the farming images. Like the wild stalk that grows in the field, the man hasn't been paying attention to her -- even so, no one has come to claim her. The wild stalk image can mean several things. Perhaps she is using it to humble herself, or to suggest that the man has not been visiting her. The kokoro mote in the first line may also imply that she has made the choice between the two men herself, although the meaning of the poem seems to turn away the suspicion. Katagiri interprets the kokoro mote to apply to the man's baseless suspicion of her, although the connection to the rest of the poem is harder to interpret in that reading.

270

題知らず

Topic unknown

藤原守文

Fujiwara no Morifumi

草のいとにぬく白玉と見えつるは秋のむすべるつゆにぞ有りける

kusa no ito ni               What I had seen as
nuku siratama to             White jewels threaded on a 
mie-turu ha                  String made from the leaves of grass
aki no musube-ru             Are actually beads of dew
tuyu ni zo ari-keru          That autumn brought together.

--

The last poem in the volume is a public-style poem with the witty mitate elegance favored in the KKS. The image of dew as beads threaded on a string shows up in the KKS and Chinese poetry, but the personification of autumn here is new. A similar poem by Tsurayuki appears in the next volume (307).