Gosenshu 8

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後撰和歌集 巻第八 冬

443

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

よみ人も

Also the poet

はつ時雨ふれば山べぞおもほゆるいづれの方のまづもみづらん

hatu sigure                  The first late year rain
hure-ba yamabe zo            When it falls I come to think
omohoyuru                    Of the mountain ridge.
idure no kata no             From which place does it begin
madu momidu-ran              The first leaves changing color.

--

The winter volume opens with two poems that cause several problems. The first one is that both 443 and 444 seem more appropriate to the Autumn volume than the Winter. The second is that this poem has already appeared in Volume 7 (poem 375). The placement of 443 and 444 next to each other is deliberate, since 444 works as an answer to 443. This repetition of 443 has been traditionally viewed as a mistake or a sign of hasty or incompetent editing.

Kifune and Katagiri both say these poems may have appeared here because of the sigure (late year rain) image. Sigure is found in both winter and autumn poems, although the image is more associated with winter. Perhaps the compilers were keen to start off a big set of sigure poems with poems that used hatu sigure (first late year rain), even if the poems on the whole seemed more like autumn poems. There is a clear sequence between the "first colored leaves" of this poem to the "wilted/fallen leaves" of the next poem to the start of winter in 445. Perhaps the best way to look at this is an initial set of poems that show how the sigure rains cross the seasons from autumn to fall. If the compilers were working sequentially, perhaps they initially included this poem as 375 but then later had the idea to begin winter with the 443-445. And then the current text of the GSS we have never received the final round of editing that would have removed the duplication. However, it's not impossible that the duplication was intentional.

444

はつしぐれふるほどもなくさほ山の梢あまねくうつろひにけり

hatu sigure                  The first late year rain
huru hodo mo naku            Has barely started to fall
sahoyama no                  When on Mt. Saho
kozuwe amaneku               Every branch of all the trees
uturohi-ni-keri              Have already changed color.
Changed color
Many texts read iroduki-ni-keri instead, which also means change color. The base text's uturohu can also carry a secondary meaning of scattering and falling, which may be more appropriate here.

--

This poem seems to be a response to 443; the difficulties of these poems appearing in the Winter volume are discussed above. The poem appears in the Korenori Collection where it is said to be a poem read at the Emperor Teiji poetry competition. MYS 8.1553 is similar:

時雨の雨間なくし降れば御笠山木末あまねく色づきにけり
The late year rains have barely started to fall when all the ends of the trees on Mt. Mikasa have turned color.

It was used as a honka for Senzaishu 353:

初しぐれふるほどもなくしもとゆふ葛城山はいろづきにけり
The first late year rain has barely started to fall when Kazuraki Mountain turns color.

445

神な月ふりみふらずみ定めなき時雨ぞ冬の始めなりける

kaminaduki                     In the tenth month
huri-mi hura-zu-mi             It falls and then it doesn't fall
sadame naki                    It has no pattern
sigure zo huyu no              These late spring rains are what mark
hazime nari-keru               The beginning of winter.

--

Continuing from the previous sigure poems, we are now into winter. Early commentaries put focus on the type of sigure that was particular to winter, but this seems to be just a description of sigure in general. Kifune praises the poem as expressing the feel of the season and the nature of sigure.

446

冬くればさほの河せにゐるたづもひとりねがたきねをぞなくなる

huyu kure-ba                   When winter arrives
saho no kawase ni              At the banks of Saho river
wiru tadu mo                   The sitting crane
hitori ne-gataki               Has trouble sleeping alone
ne wo zo naku-naru             I hear crying in pain.

--

This seems to be a love poem, with the poet, like the crane, sleeping alone and crying. The Saho River is typically associated with the tidori bird, not the crane. Neither the river nor the bird have any particular seasonal association. The poem also appears in the Ise Collection, with textual variants that emphasize the love reading.

447

ひとりぬる人のきかくに神な月にはかにもふるはつ時雨かな

hitori nuru                    Sleeping alone
hito no ki-kaku ni             I am one who hears it
kaminaduki                     In the tenth month
nihaka ni mo huru              It suddenly starts to fall
hatusigure kana                The first rains of the late year.

--

This continues the love connotations of the previous poem; this poem could also be taken as general sorrow, but along with the previous poem it seems to lead into the next poem which has a more explicit love theme.

Shunzei included this poem in his Korai futeisho, and Kifune praised the simple language but deep pathos.

448

秋はてて時雨ふりぬる我なればちることのはをなにかうらみむ

aki hate-te                    Autumn has ended
sigure huri-nuru               The late rains fall and soak
ware nare-ba                   My aged body
tiru koto no ha wo             So the fallen leaves of words,
nani ka urami-mu               Why should I resent them?
fall...aged
The verb huru can be either "fall" or "growing old".
leaves of words
Although koto no ha simply means "words", it echoes ko no ha (tree leaves).

--

This poem has a more explicit love meaning than the previous ones, while continuing the rain imagery. The play on huru is common to such poetry, as is the play on aki ("autumn" and "grow tired of"). The "fallen leaves of words" is a bit more difficult to interpret. Kigin and Nakayama thought it meant that the couple's letters and poems had been leaked to the world causing embarrassment, but modern commentators take it to mean that his pledges have come to naught.

The poem seems to have been written based on KKS 782 by Komachi, which appears in a slight variation as GSS 450.

449

吹く風は色も見えねど冬くればひとりぬるよの身にぞしみける

huku kaze ha                  The wind that's blowing
iro mo mie-ne-do              Has no color we can see
huyu kure-ba                  But when winter comes
hitori nuru yo no             On the nights I sleep alone
mi ni zo simi-keru            It seeps into my body.
seeps
The word simu can mean "dye" as well.

--

This is another poem drawing on the imagery of winter and sleeping alone. Here the contrast is between the "colorless" wind and the image of the wind dyeing the poet's body with its cold. Poem 443 in the Kokin waka rokujo is similar:

吹きくれば身にもしみける秋風を色なきものと思ひけるかな
When it blows in it seeps into the body, the autumn wind, though I don't think it has any color.

450

秋はててわが身にしぐれにふりぬれば事の葉さへにうつろひにけり

aki hate-te                    Autumn ends, and then
waga mi sigure ni              The late year rains fall and soak
huri-nure-ba                   My aged body,
koto no ha sahe ni             Then even leaves of your words
uturohi-ni-keri                Have faded and scattered down.

--

See 448 for the imagery and wordplay here. This poem also appears as KKS 782 by Ono no Komachi, with a different first line, followed by a response poem by Ono no Sadaki:

人を思ふ心の木の葉にあらばこそ風のまにまに散りもみだれめ
If the "leaves" are truly words that show love to you, how could they be scattered by the whims of the wind?

V1

神な月しぐればかりはふらずしてゆきがてにしもなどかなるらん

kaminaduki                      In the tenth month
sigure bakari ha                It isn't just late year rains
hura-zu site                    That are falling, but
yuki-gate ni si mo              Snow is mixed in with it:
nado ka naru-ran                How can this possibly be?
Snow
yuki-gate plays on "difficult to go".

--

This poem is not found in the base text, nor in Teika's later texts, but it is present in his earlier texts and in all of the variant manuscripts (although most of them read sahe in the fourth line instead of si mo). All the edo-period editions, as well as the old Kokka Taikan, contain this poem as well. This means that for the rest of the poems, the numbering found in older research will be off by one. That is, if a book written in the 1960s refers to GSS 892, it will actually be 891 by the numbering of recent editions. Kifune includes the poem in his edition despite it not being in the base text.

The poem is found in the Ise Collection in a set of 12 love exchanges. The love meaning here is the play on "difficult to go" -- the man is apologizing for not being able to visit the woman, perhaps because of snow. Kigin and Nakayama do not take a love reading for this poem; Kigin says that the snow makes it difficult to visit the mountains, and Nakayama says this is just a description of winter scenery.

451

神な月時雨とともにかみなびのもりのこのははふりにこそふれ

kaminaduki                        In the tenth month
sigure to tomo ni                 Along with the late year rains
kaminabi no                       In Kaminabi
mori no ko no ha ha               Forest, the leaves of the trees
huri ni koso hure                 Fall and fall, completely gone.

--

The poem is simple, although there are some poetic devices -- the repetition of kamina in the first and third lines brings a certain euphony. The leaves and the rain both fall. There may be a suggestion that in this kami (god) month, even in the kami forest the leaves fall.

Perhaps this poem was a companion to KKS 253:

神な月時雨もいまだふらなくにかねてうつろふかみなびの森
The tenth month rains have yet to fall, but the leaves in Kaminabi Forest have already turned color.

Kifune reads 443-451 as a long love sequence stretching from autumn to winter.

452

女につかはしける

たのむ木もかれはてぬれば神な月時雨にのみもぬるるころかな

tanomu ki mo                 The trees relied on
kare-hate-nure-ba            Have withered up and vanished
kaminaduki                   So the tenth month is
sigure ni nomi mo            When only the late year rains
nururu koro kana             Drench me thoroughly with tears.
trees relied on
tanomu also indicates the woman that the man relied on, and the tanomu ki is a wooden structure or temporary hut.
withered
kare plays also on "departing" (a man or woman leaving)

--

This love poem continues the rain imagery, similar to 432. Perhaps the woman has found another lover. Some alternate texts read sode (sleeves) instead of koro (time), strengthening the common love imagery, although it is clear even in the base text's version.

453

山へいるとて

When he was entering a mountain.

増基法師

Priest Zouki

神な月時雨ばかりを身にそへてしらぬ山地に入るぞかなしき

kaminaduki                      In the tenth month
sigure bakari wo                It is only the late rain
mi ni sohete                    That I take with me
siranu yamadi ni                To the unknown mountain path
iru zo kanasiki                 I enter in with sorrow.

--

Sogi classifies this as a travel poem. The GSS' small set of travel poems do have a few dealing with journeys in mountains, but the focus here is on the priest leaving the world behind, taking only the rain (and no other worldly possessions) as he enters the mountain to begin his ascetic life.

Nakayama has an interesting analysis of the poem. He mentions two theories from "certain people" -- one that there is an implied play on huru (falling rain and growing old), and another than the way the late rains move around the mountains is associated with the poet's movement. Nakayama sees both of these as doubtful, and says that if you look too deeply into a poem like this it begins to lose its pathos. Kudo does support the "movement of the late rains" association.

Shunzei included this poem in his Korai futeisho, and the pseudo-Teika Teika jittei classifies this as a 濃様体 poem (without defining what the type means).

454

神無月ばかりに、大江千古がもとに「あはむ」とてまかりたりけれども、侍らぬほどなれば、かへりまできて、たづねてつかはしける

In the 10th month, he said he would visit Oe no Chifuru and went there, but [Chifuru] was not there, so [Tadamasa] returned home, and then sent this.

藤原忠房朝臣

Lord Fujiwara no Tadamasa

もみぢばはをしき錦と見しかども時雨とともにふりでてぞこし

momidiba ha                    The autumn leaves were
wosiki nisiki to               A beautiful brocade
mi-sika-domo                   I saw it and yet
sigure to tomo ni              Along with the late year rains
huri-de-te zo kosi             I turned and fell away.
fell
huri plays on the falling rain, the poet leaving, and for association with "brocade", the idea of dyeing clothes.

--

This is a personal exchange after a failed visit. Tadamasa praises Chifuru's garden while also regretting that they could not meet. He begins a set of wordplays on cloth dyeing which Chifuru continues in his response. There is also an interesting sound sequences of wosiki nisiki misika in the second and third lines. Many non-Teika texts read nisiki ni misikado which heightens the soundplay.

455

返し

Response

大江千古

Oe no Chifuru

もみぢばも時雨もつらしまれにきてかへらむ人をふりやとどめぬ

momidiba mo                           The autumn leaves and
sigure mo turasi                      The late year rains both wound me
mare ni ki-te                         The person rarely
kahera-mu hito wo                     Visiting, and then leaving,
huri ya todome-nu                     They would not fall to stop him!

--

The meaning is clear and provides an effective response to Masafusa's poem. Kifune also identifies a number of words poetically associated with the brocade that Masafusa mentioned -- huri and todome both associating with dyeing, and kaeramu hi as the color that the brocade is changing too. The exchange shows the friendship between the two.

456

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

よみ人も

Also the poet

神な月限りとや思ふもみぢばのやむ時もなくよるさへにふる

kaminaduki                      Do they think the tenth month, 
kagiri to ya omohu              Is the end of their time here
momidiba no                     The autumn leaves?
yamu toki mo naku               Is that why, without ceasing,
yoru sahe ni huru               They even fall in the night?

--

The poems on the end of the autumn leaves continue; here the poet laments their swift scattering.

This seems to have been a well known poem at the time. Minamoto no Shitago's collection notes that in 951, when the order to compile the GSS came down, Shitago composed the following poem based on the poem above:

神な月はてば紅葉もいあかんれや時雨とともにふりにふるらん
When the 10th month ends, what happens to the autumn leaves? They fall and fall along with the late year rains.

457

ちはやぶる神がき山のさか木ばは時雨に色もかはらざりけり

tihayaburu                       From a thousand years
kamigakiyama no                  On the tall sacred mountain
sakakiba ha                      Sakaki tree leaves
sigure ni iro mo                 Even the rains of the late year
kahara-zari-keri                 Do not change their color.
(first line)
tihayaburu is a pillow word for "mountain" of uncertain meaning.
Tall sacred mountain
kamigaki yama seems not to be a specific place name, although it's possible it is a mountain near Kamigaki Forest in Yamato prefecture. It may just mean a sacred mountain. KKS 1074 also has these two images together.

--

In contrast to the last poem's falling leaves, here we have evergreen leaves that never fall. There is a difference among commentators on whether the poem is suggesting that the presence of the gods prevents the leaves from changing -- both because of the "sacred" mountain and the sakaki tree itself, which was used in Shinto rites.

458

住まぬ家にまできて、紅葉にかきて、いひつかはしける

He went to a house he did not live in, wrote on autumn leaves, and sent this.

枇杷左大臣

Biwa Minister of the Left [Nakahira]

人すまずあれたるやどをきて見れば今ぞこのはは錦をりける

hito suma-zu                         No person lives here
are-taru yado wo                     To the ravaged dwelling
ki-te mire-ba                        I have come to look,
ima zo konoha ha                     It is only now that the leaves
nisiki wori-keru                     Have woven a brocade for me.

--

This poem could go in the autumn volume, but the response uses sigure, making it appropriate for here. The idea behind the poem is perhaps that the house looks even better than when he lived there -- the man bears a grudge for being abandoned. Or if it is an attempt to restart their relationship, it may simply recall the happy time they spent together in the house.

This is the first poem in the Ise Collection, where it has a much longer prose preface that explains the situation more fully. Nakahira had met Ise when she was serving at the palace, and they had a relationship. But Nakahira was forced to marry someone else for political reasons, and their relationship ended. Years later he came to the house (perhaps on 5th avenue) where they lived, and attached autumn leaves to this poem.

459

返し

Response

伊勢

Ise

涙さへ時雨にそひてふるさとは紅葉の色もこさまさりけり

namida sahe                     I cry tears of blood
sigure ni sohi-te               Even these, when the rain falls:
hurusato ha                     Their depth of color
momidi no iro mo                Exceeds that of autumn leaves
ko-sa masari-keri               In the house we used to share.

--

Ise responds to Tokihira's poem by reminding him that he abandoned her, and that she cries tears of blood.

458 and 459 appear in some manuscripts of the Sosei collection, leading some commentators to suggest that the poems were intentionally reused (with variations) by Ise and Tokihira. These comments are based on a strong trust in the reliability of these personal collections. But the older collections were typically not compiled by the people themselves, and could contain poems that the poets did not write.

460

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

よみ人も

Also the poet

冬の池の鴨のうはげにおくしものきえて物思ふころにもあるかな

huyu no ike no                    On a winter pond
kamo no uhage ni                  The frost on the exposed fur
oku simo no                       Of the duck melts,
kie-te mono omohu                 This is a time when my heart too
koro ni mo aru kana               Seems to melt in worry.
melts
The first three lines are a poetic preface that leads to the poet's heart "melting" out of love worry.

--

This is a love poem, a "preface poem" (序歌) expressing abstract feelings of love with nature metaphors. Such poems were favored by the KKS compilers over personal love poems addressed to specific people. The GSS' love volumes are almost entirely personal poems, and the compilers preferred to put this sort of metaphorical poem in the seasonal volume. As a love poem it continues from the previous exchange; perhaps we can imagine Tokihira feeling this way after failing to reconnect with Ise, or Ise herself recalling her love worries.

A similar poem by Tadamine is in the KKS (566):

かきくらし降る白雪のしたぎえにきえて物思ふころにもあるかな
The snow piles up and the bottom snow melts, this is a time when my heart too, seems to melt in worry.

461

親の外にまかりて、遅く帰りければ、つかはしける

Her parent had left, and was late in returning, so she sent this

人のむすめのやつなりける

A person's daughter who was eight

神な月時雨ふるにもくるるひを君まつほどはながしとぞ思ふ

kaminaduki                   In the tenth month
sigure huru ni mo            When the late rains are falling
kururu hi wo                 Even as the sun sets
kimi matu hodo ha            The time that I wait for you
nagasi to zo omohu           I feel is far too long.

--

This poem continues the long set of sigure poems. The idea here is that the shortest days are found in the tenth month, but even here the speaker feels that the nights are too long.

This is an unusual poem in several respects. A poem written by a child to a parent is atypical for an Imperial collection, which typically features only poems by named adults (or anonymous compositions). Minamoto no Toshiyori noted this in his Toshiyori Zuino as a child's poem, and it appears in the Fukurozoshi as well, suggesting that this was of note to Heian-period poets as well.

Second, the author attribution is strange even by GSS standards. Other poem-tale like poems do use attributions like "the woman's daughter", but not complete sentences like this poem has. A number of alternate texts lack this part, or put it in the preface. It's hard not to feel like this attribution was originally part of the preface and became disconnected later. The Gosenshu seigi claims this was written by Tsurayuki's daughter at age 7, and that her original poem in Tsurayuki's collection read titi matu hodo (waiting for father). There is no proof of this, and the poem does not appear in any extant version of the Tsurayuki Collection. Most commentators take the parent to be a mother.

The Seigi and Kigin praise the poem, as does Kifune, for being a good childish poem. Kifune does note that it may just be an artificial construction. Kudo points to the use of love imagery. Without the prose preface this could be read as a poem by a woman waiting for a man that fails to come, and it may be that what was originally a love poem was later placed in this context.

462

題しらず

身をわけて霜やおくらんあだ人の事のはさへにかれもゆくかな

mi wo wake-te                    Separating us
simo ya oku-ran                  The frost seems to lie heavy.
adabito no                       The faithless person,
koto no ha sahe ni               Even their words, like the leaves,
kare mo yuku kana                Have withered and gone away.
author
Most texts have よみ人しらず (author unknown) here, even Teika's other texts. Kifune also adds the words. They should be here; otherwise this poem and the next 8 are by Yatsu, and this is clearly not the intent. This may be a remnant of the state of the text before the "Yatsu" attribution was added to the previous poem, but it's unclear why Teika dropped the words in this text.
leaves, withered
These are the familiar plays on leaves/words, and wither/part.

--

This is another love poem, but the volume now begins to move away from the sigure rains into other winter precipitation -- frost, sleet, and snow. There is some question about what the first line means. It may mean that the frost is specifically targeting the poet, or that she is being separated from her lover, or that her own body is being torn apart.

The first line seems to come from KKS 787 by Tomonori:

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 tear my body apart, so why has my lover's heart been carried away?

In this poem the simo is emphatic particles, but perhaps their appearance in the poem prompted the GSS poet to use it to mean "frost" instead. In Tomonori's poem the mi wo wake-te clearly means tearing the body apart, but the GSS poet has chosen to use it for perhaps a more open-ended meaning.

463

冬の日、武蔵につかはしける

On a winter day, he sent this to Musashi.

人しれず君につけてしわが袖のけさしもとけずこほるなるべし

hito sire-zu                     My sleeves are drenched through
kimi ni tuke-te-si               From the way you touched my heart
waga sode no                     Unknown to you
kesa si mo toke-zu               This morning they will not melt
kohoru naru-besi                 But harden to solid ice.
Musashi
Presumably a gentlewoman, named after a relative who was the governor of Musashi province. This may be the author of GSS 1170 and the lady who appears in Tales of Yamato 103. But no certain details about her are known.
This morning
There may be a play on the emphatic particles si mo and the word "frost".

--

This is a love poem on a general winter theme, but the exact interpretation varies. Kudo's reading is that the tears are shed by the poet because the cold woman has turned him away when he tried to visit. But he notes an alternate reading of kimi ni kake-te for the second line, which would mean they slept together. Kifune emends his text and interprets this as a poem of parting on the next day after their encounter.

Nakayama reads the tears as the mutual tears of the man and woman, sad that they cannot meet because their love is forbidden -- he reads the hito sire-zu of the first line as a general statement that their love is hidden from all, not that she is unaware of his feelings. This becomes, then, the man's letter for the next morning.

464

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

かきくらし霰ふりしけ白玉をしける庭とも人の見るべく

kakikurasi                     Obscuring the sky
arare huri-sike                Fall and fall, hail, all over!
siratama wo                    White colored jewels
sike-ru niwa to mo             Blanketing the garden floor,
hito no miru beku              Make people see it like that.

--

Hail (arare) does not appear in any winter KKS poems, although in subsequent anthologies the winter volume usually contains a handful of poems on the topic. This is a typical mitate, a metaphorical poem where the hail on the ground is seen as jewels. The Waka shogakusho included this as an example of such a comparison poem.

465

神な月しぐるる時ぞみよしのの山のみゆきもふり始めける

kaminaduki                     In the tenth month
sigururu toki zo               When the late rains are falling
mi-yosino no                   On mount Yoshino
yama no mi-yuki mo             Beautiful snow already
huri hazime-keru               Has started to pile up.

--

Snow is of course a major image in winter poetry in all Imperial collections. Here the GSS provides a link from the sigure rains poems to the snow poems by a common technique used in other seasonal poetry. Where the poet is (the capital, or maybe a rural village) is contrasted with other places. Yoshino is associated with snow in the KKS -- KKS 18, in particular, has the contrast between spring coming to the capital while snow is still falling on Yoshino. The KKS also has a number of poems that show winter arriving first to Yoshino before elsewhere.

466

けさの嵐寒くもあるかなあしひきの山かきくもり雪ぞふるらし

kesa no arasi                  The storm this morning
samuku mo aru kana             Is very chilly indeed!
asihiki no                     On the mountain
yama kakikumori                It must be fully obscured
yuki zo huru-rasi              By the snow that is falling.

--

The transition to a colder winter and snow continues with another common Heian style seasonal poem. The poet hears or sees something at one place and assumes how the weather must be elsewhere. In both 465 and 466 the snow has not yet reached the poet, but they assume it must be present in the mountains. Some alternate manuscripts instead of the pillow word asihiki no have either Yoshino or Shikishima mountain. For Yoshino see the previous poem. Shikishima does not appear in the first eight Imperial collections but occurs in the MYS as a pillow word for Yamato province.

467

くろかみのしろくなりゆく身にしあればまづはつ雪をあはれとぞ見る

kurokami no                    My hair that was black
siroku nari-yuku               Is now turning white with years
mi ni si are-ba                I look at myself
madu hatuyuki wo               And now think of the first snow
ahare to zo miru               As something to be pitied.

--

The early poems on snow continue; here the snow is actually falling where the poet is, but this "first" snow is a patchy, early snow that is like the slow greying of the poet's hair. The comparison of white hair and snow is common in Chinese and Japanese poetry. It shows up in GSS 1 at the beginning of the collection, and is a continuing theme in this section of the GSS.

468

霰ふるみ山のさとのわびしきはきてたはやすくとふ人ぞなき

arare huru                     Where hail is falling
miyama no sato no              Here in the mountain village
wabisiki ha                    What is painful is
kite tahayasuku                Casually visiting
tohu hito zo naki              There is no one who comes near.

--

The surface meaning of the poem seems fairly clear. Katagiri's explanation may reveal the deeper meaning -- this mountain ascetic, living in his village, cannot expect even the kinds of casual visitors he got when he lived in the capital, much less someone with a deeper meaning to their visit.

This poem recalls KKS 315:

山里は冬ぞさびしさまさりける人めも草もかれぬと思へば
The mountain village is especially lonely in winter, when you think that people stay away and all the grasses have died.

469

ちはやぶる神な月こそかなしけれわが身時雨にふりぬと思へば

tihayaburu                     [Favored by the gods]
kaminaduki koso                It is the tenth month that is
kanasi-kere                    Especially sad.
waga mi sigure ni              The late year rains fall on me
huri-nu to omohe-ba            I think of my aging self.
[Favored by the gods]
tihayaburu is a pillow word for the kami in kaminaduki.
Rains fall
huri-nu plays on "[rain] fall" and "[body] ages".

--

This poem brings together the images of 467 and 468. It may be a poem by a woman who has grown old and is no longer visited by men. Poem 450, earlier in this book, is similar in feeling. Kigin seems to avoid the romantic reading and say that because it gets dark early, people always feel their own aging in the 10th month, and the late rains make it even sadder.

470

式部卿敦実親王、忍びて通ふ所侍りけるを、後々、絶え絶えなり侍りければ、妹の全斎宮のもとより「このごろはいかにぞ」とありければ、その返事に、女

His Highness of Ceremonial Prince Atsumi was secretly visiting a place, and after a while he stopped attending. There was a message [to the woman] from his younger sister the former Ise Priestess saying "How is it lately?" and in response she wrote:

しら山に雪ふりぬればあとたえて今はこし地に人もかよはず

sirayama ni                  On the white mountain
yuki huri-nure-ba            Snow has fallen, I have aged,
ato tae-te                   Contact has broken
ima ha kosidi ni             Now on the Koshiji path
hito mo kayoha-zu            There is no one traveling.
Snow has fallen
huri plays on "[snow] falls" and "aged".
Koshiji
This is a place in Echizen, but it also plays on ko-si di (the road he has come down to visit me)

--

Like the other poems in this block, the images of falling snow and aging are combined to show that Atsumi has abandoned the speaker. This poem appears in Tales of Yamato 95, where more details are given: the woman is Yoshiko, daughter of Fujiwara no Sadakata. She was in Emperor Daigo's service, and after Daigo's death, Atsumi (his half brother) began to see her. The sister is Princess Junshi, Atsumi's half sister.

471

雪のあした、老いを嘆きて

On a snowy morning, he was lamenting his age

つらゆき

Tsurayuki

ふりそめて友まつ雪はむばたまのわがくろかみのかはるなりけり

huri-some-te                It's started to fall
tomo matu yuki ha           The snow waiting for a friend
mubatama no                 It is just like
waga kurokami no            What the black hair on my head
kaharu nari-keri            Will soon change into, I see.
mubatama
The third line is a pillow word for kuro (black).

--

The next 4 poems are an exchange between Tsurayuki and Kanesuke about aging. The phrase in the second line, "snow waiting for a friend," seems to mean a light snow that has fallen and is now waiting for more snow to fall. This is used as a metaphor for the slowly growing white hair on Tsurayuki's head. But the phrase also suggests that Tsurayuki would like a visit from his friend Kanesuke. Keichu indicated that this phrase could be found in Chinese poetry as well.

472

返し

Response

兼輔朝臣

Lord Kanesuke

くろかみの色ふりかふる白雪のまちいづる友はうとくぞ有りける

kurokami no                       The black hair's color
iro huri-kahuru                   It will fall down and change it,
sirayuki no                       The white snow:
mati-iduru tomo ha                This friend that's waiting for me
utoku zo ari-keru                 Is not one that's close to me!

--

Kanesuke was probably a decade or so younger than Tsurayuki. This joking response to Tsurayuki's poem suggests that this white hair, which Tsurayuki characterized as a "waiting friend", is not one that Kanesuke knows -- his is still black. Kudo says that the form of this response makes it unlikely Tsurayuki was inviting Kanesuke to visit with his previous poem; if that were the case, Kanesuke's response would be quite rude and blunt.

473

Again

つらゆき

Tsurayuki

くろかみと雪とのなかのうき見ればともかがみをもつらしとぞ思ふ

kurokami to                    When I see the hate
yuki to no naka no             Between the black hair and the
uki mire-ba                    White of fallen snow,
tomokagami wo mo               The mirror of friendship, also,
turasi to zo omohu             I think is quite unpleasant.

--

Tsurayuki's response has differing explanations; the problem seems to hinge on the word tomokagami (mirror of friendship), which is a rare word in poetry. There seem to be two primary explanations. The first one is a mirror that shows one's friend, or just seeing one's own white hair in the mirror. The other is a set of two mirrors placed so that a person can see their backside or back of their head. From here the explanations of the entire poem diverge as well. The most common pre-modern reading seems to be "If your black hair is disliked by the snow, my own white hair is even more unpleasant." Nakayama offers different suggestions, either that Tsurayuki finds it unpleasant to compare his hair with the snow, or compare his hair with Kanesuke's.

Kifune thinks this is a semi-joking response, where Tsurayuki is showing annoyance at Kanesuke's poem that praised his own black hair. Kudo's interpretation is that Tsurayuki hates the mirror that showed him his own white hair, since white and black hair cannot be friends.

474

返し

Response

兼輔朝臣

Lord Kanesuke

年ごとにしらがのかずをますかがみ見るにぞ雪の友はしりける

toshigoto ni                     Year after year
siraga no kazu wo                The number of white hairs grows
masukagami                       In the clear mirror
miru ni zo yuki no               I look and see that the snow
tomo ha siri-keru                I recognize as a friend.
Clear mirror
This is a pivot construction with kazu wo masu (the number grows) and masukagami (a poetic word for mirror).

--

Kansuke's response is subject to multiple interpretations as well. The usual explanation is that Kanesuke is trying to console Tsurayuki by saying that he too sees white hairs in the mirror. However, this would seem to contradict 472. Given the possible joking tone of the exchange, this contradiction does not necessarily mean the interpretation is wrong. Even under this interpretation, exactly what yuki no tomo means is hard to say -- depending on the commentary, it means that the snowy garden is now a friend (due to the white hair), I am now a friend of the snow, or I am now more your friend (due to our white hair).

Katagiri notes the use of the word tomo (friend) in all four poems, highlighting the friendship between the two despite their age and rank difference.

Kudo seems to be the only one to say there is no contradiction between 474 and 472 -- he interpreted tomo no kagami as a mirror that shows one's friend, and so here it means that by looking in the mirror he should see their friendship stronger. He interprets the exchange as complaints by Tsurayuki and joking responses by Kanesuke.

475

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

よみ人も

Also the poet

年ふれど色もかはらぬ松がえにかかれる雪を花とこそ見れ

tosi hure-do                  As the years pass by
iro mo kahara-nu              The color never changes
matu ga e ni                  Of the pine branches,
kakare-ru yuki wo             But the snow falling on them
hana to koso mire             I see is its true flower.

--

The snow poems move into those that portray actual snow, although this expression still could be taken as abstract. The confusion of snow and flowers is a well-worn trope going back to Chinese poetry, but using snow as pine "flowers" is an unusual image. See poem 492 below. Katagiri sees this as a celebratory poem (pines are often used in such poems), and cites KKS 324 as a parallel:

しらゆきの所もわかずふりしけば巌にもさく花とこそ見れ
Since the white snow falls everywhere without exception, I see that flowers are blooming on the rocks.

477

氷こそ今はすらしもみよしのの山のたきつせこゑもきこえず

kohori koso                   The ice of winter
ima ha su-rasi mo             Must now be frozen, I think.
miyosino no                   From Mount Yoshino
yama no takituse              Rushing mountain waterfalls
kowe mo kikoe-zu              I cannot hear their voices.

--

Winter continues to deepen, although since Yoshino mountain is associated with winter and cold, it still seems to be somewhat apart from the poet. The meaning of this poem is clear, but seems to invert the meaning of KKS 319:

ふる雪はかつぞ消ぬらしあしひきの山のたきつせ音まさるなり
The fallen snow must have melted somewhat. The sounds of the waterfall from the mountain has grown.

And SIS 235:

冬さむみこほらぬ水はなけれども吉野のたきはたゆるよもなし
Winter is cold and there is no unfrozen water, but the waterfalls of Yoshino never cease.

478

夜をさむみねざめてきけばをしぞなく払ふひもあへず霜やおくらん

yo wo samu-mi                  The night is cold, so
nezame-te kike-ba              I start awake and listen
wosi zo naku                   To the crying duck
harahi mo ahe-zu               Is it unable to clear
simo ya oku-ran                The frost from its exposed fur?

--

A similar poem to the previous one; here also the poet uses an external stimuli to guess at what's going on. Kifune and Hisamatsu Sen'ichi both praised to poem's simple structure and depth of feeling. The poet awakens in the middle of a cold night alone, and hears the mandarin duck crying, wonder if it too awoke in the lake to find itself beset with cold.

The mandarin duck is not a seasonal image in the KKS or GSS, although in the SIS it appears in three winter poems.

479

雪のすこしふる日、女につかはしける

On a day when snow was lightly falling, he sent this to a woman.

藤原蔭基

Fujiwara no Kagemoto

かつきえてそらにみだるるあは雪は物思ふ人の心なりけり

katu kie-te                    Here and there vanishing
sora ni midaruru               Chaotic in the skies
ahayuki ha                     The blowing light snow
mono omohu hito no             This, I see, is the heart
kokoro nari-keri               Of one who is lost in sorrow.

--

The poet compares the light snow, easily melting and blowing chaotically in the wind, to his own heart which is buffeted by the woman's coldness and sure to make him perish with worry. The sentiment is similar to KKS 550:

淡雪のたまればかてに砕けつつ我が物思ひのしげきころかな
The light snow, as soon as it falls it vanishes away; just like me during this time of great worry.

Kifune praises the GSS poem for having a greater sense of the winter scene and describing it with a clarity and beauty that captures the essence of the early winter.

480

師氏朝臣の狩りして、家のまへよりまかりけるを聞きて

Lord Morouji was hunting, and [she] heard that he had passed by her house.

よみ人しらず

白雪のふりはへてこそとはざらめとくるたよりをすぐさざらなん

sirayuki no                   In the falling snow
hurihahete koso               I see you've made it a point
toha-zara-me                  Not to visit me
tokuru tayori wo              But I would not have this chance
sugusa-zara-nan               Pass by as the melting snow.
You've made it a point
hurihahete is a pivot coming off of huru ([snow] falls), the word means "with effort" or "intentionally".
Melting
Commentators seem to agree there is some play here on kuru (come) but exactly how that is carried out is elusive. Norinaga suggests ignoring the to. Kifune interprets it as a do (but) from the previous line, and other commentaries label it as having an unclear grammatical purpose. Nakayama offers two more fanciful ideas -- that the to could mean "bird" (鳥) or "from afar" (外).

--

A woman sits in her house, waiting for Morouji's visit. Perhaps it has been some time since he last visited her, and now she's heard that he passed right by without stopping -- this note acts as both a criticism and an invitation.

481

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

思ひつつねなくにあくる冬の夜の袖の氷はとけずもあるかな

omohi-tutu                        Beset with worry
ne-naku ni akuru                  Without sleeping the day dawns
huyu no yo no                     From a winter night,
sode no kohori ha                 The frozen tears on my sleeve
toke-zu mo aru kana               Show no signs of melting.

--

This can be seen as a continuation of the previous poem, with the woman still crying over the man's absence. The volume now moves into a long block of anonymous, contextless poems (right up to the final poem of the volume) -- a dark, lonely world that fits the mood of the season.. This poem could be seen as just a poem of general worry, but a love meaning is more likely. SIS 727 is similar:

君恋ふる涙のこほる冬の夜は心とけたる寝やは寝らるる
On a winter night when my tears of longing for you freeze, how can I sleep a peaceful night?

482

荒玉の年を渡りてあるがうへにふりつむ雪のたえぬしら山

aratama no                      As the months change and
tosi wo watari-te               The year passes through its course
aru ga uhe ni                   On what's already there
huri-tumu yuki no               The snow falling and piling
tae-nu sirayama                 Without cease, the White Mountain
aratama
The first line is a pillow word for "year".
white mountain
This is probably Shirayama in Koshiji, known for its snow.

--

A travel poem by Mitsune includes Shirayama and snow (KKS 414):

消えはつる時しなければこし路なるしら山の名は雪にぞありける
Because there is no time it vanishes, Shirayama in Koshiji gets its name from snow.

This GSS poem uses taigendome (ending with a noun) to create the scene of the mountain with snow piling up on top, as we continue into the deeper winter. The snow continues to be light in the capital and heavy in other places.

483

まこもかるほり江にうきてぬるかもの今夜の霜にいかにわぶらん

makomo karu                     Where they cut wild rice
horie ni uki-te                 In Horie, it's floating
nuru kamo no                    The slumbering duck
koyohi no simo ni               With the frost laying tonight
ika ni wabu-ran                 How it must be suffering!

--

Like 460 and 478 this involves frost or snow on the fur of a waterfowl. There is also a connection to the previous poem with the use of a place name (Horie is in Naniwa, although the exact place is not clear.) The speaker may also be projecting his own loneliness and cold onto the duck, as in earlier poems.

484

白雲のおりゐる山と見えつるはふりつむ雪のきえぬなりけり

sirakumo no                    What appears to be
ori-wiru yama to               White clouds descending to rest
mie-turu ha                    On the mountain peaks
huri-tumu yuki no              Is actually falling snow
kie-nu nari-keri               Piling up and not melting.

--

The collection moves towards deeper winter, although here the snow is still far off from the poet. Katagiri points out that the mountains around Kyoto are often wreathed in clouds all year round, emphasizing the *mitate* symbol.

This is similar to several poems from the *Shinsen manyoshu*. 416:

降る雪の積もれる峰に白雲の立ちも動かず居るかとぞ見る
The peak where snow has piled up looks like white clouds sitting, not standing or moving.

and 171:

冬なれば雪降り積める高き峰立つ白雲に見えまがふらむ
When winter comes, on the tall peak where snow piles up, I seem to confuse them for white clouds.

The GSS poem is more effective in the climax and resolution.

The commentary of Fujiwara no Tameie notes that the first two lines are inappropriate except at a palace banquet -- the problem seems to be that the descending clouds are a symbol of the Emperor, and thus should not be lightly used in a poem. This of course represents a late-Heian or early Kamakura opinion influenced by the growth of Imperial poetry competitions and other official functions.

485

ふるさとの雪は花とぞふりつもるながむる我も思ひきえつつ

hurusato no                     In the old village
yuki ha hana to zo              The snow, seeming like flowers,
huri-tumoru                     Falls and piles up
nagamuru ware mo                I too, gazing with sorrow,
omohi kie-tutu                  My thoughts die out and vanish.
old village
The interpretation of hurusato depends on your interpretation of the whole poem; often it refers to Nara, but it can also simply be a place where someone used to live.
thoughts die out
In love poetry, the word omohi (thoughts) often contained a play on hi (flame), in this case with kiyu (be extinguished).

--

The snow is still not at the capital, although here it has moved from the mountains down to a village. Kudo and Katagiri both interpret this as Nara, and Katagiri links the imagery to KKS 111:

駒並めていざ見にゆかむ古里は雪とのみこそ花はちるらめ
Let's line up our horses and go see -- in the old village the flower petals are scattering like snow.

However, I side with Kifune in reading this as a love poem, particularly because of the last line. The poet stands in a place where he used to live with a woman, who has since died or "vanished" with another man. Once they watched falling petals together, but now he sees the snow falling instead, which quenches the fire of his heart. This explains the mo particle better than the general reading, since the snow is explicitly not melting.

486

ながれゆく水こほりぬる冬さへや猶うきぐさのあとはとどめぬ

nagare-yuku                    Even in winter
midu kohori-nuru               When ever flowing water
huyu sahe ya                   Is frozen solid
naho ukigusa no                Still the rootless floating weeds
ato ha todome-nu               Their destination can't be known.

--

The base meaning here is that in the summer, the weeds are floating away and so they can't be stopped nor can anyone know where they go. Now it's winter and they should be frozen in place, but instead they wither and die, and we still don't know where they've gone. Nakayama and Kifune suggest a love meaning for the poem, which seems likely considering the previous poem -- Kifune also points out that in the Kanpyo Empress' Poetry Competition, this poem was matched against a love poem. The love reading would be that the poet's lover sleeps around; even in the winter when the cold should make it harder for him to seek other women, he still does so.

487

心あてに見ばこそわかめ白雪のいづれか花のちるにたがへる

kokoro ate ni                  If you only guess
mi-ba koso waka-me             You can see and tell them apart
sirayuki no                    What is the difference
idure ka hana no               Between the falling flowers
tiru ni tagahe-ru              And the falling white snow.

--

Kigin says the meaning is clear, but there are some difficulties to address. First, Kigin notes that this poem is based on KKS 277, by Mitsune:

心あてにおらばやおらむ初霜のおきまどはせる白菊の花
I will try to guess, then go for it and pick one -- the white chrysanthemums, which people confuse for early frost.

We may wonder why someone would think any of the deep winter snow was flowers. Katagiri thinks the first part means that if you try hard you won't be able to tell the difference, but if you just guess you'll guess correctly. This would suggest a situation in which there might actually be flowers, though. Kudo's interpretation is different; he reads the first line as "guess" and the second as a rhetorical negative -- "If you guess you think you can tell them apart, but [you can't]".

The weakness of the poem remains the lack of any real logic for taking the snow as flowers. In other poems, the spring snow is taken for the spring flowers, or in 485 the snow is taken for the memory of the flowers in the poet's mind. Earlier poems have the snow portrayed as "winter's flowers". But without any context for this poem, though, the comparison with flowers here is unclear.

488

天河冬は氷にとぢたれやいしまにたきつおとだにもせぬ

ama no gaha                     Heavenly River
huyu ha kohori ni               In winter must be stopped up
todi-tare ya                    By the frozen ice,
isima ni takitu                 I don't even hear the sound
oto da ni mo se-nu              Of water rushing over stones.

--

Kifune asks us to imagine the poet standing outside on a still, quiet winter night, looking up at the milky way. While the poem contains the feigned logic of why the "river" makes no sound, it also paints a picture of the actual scenery. Kigin interpreted this ama no gaha as the river in Kawachi province, adding an earthly layer onto the heavenly one, but as Nakayama notes, without any particular context there's no reason to read it this way.

489

おしなべて雪のふれればわがやどのすぎを尋ねて問ふ人もなし

osinabete                      Over every place
yuki no hure-re-ba             The snow has fallen, and so
waga yado no                   In my garden
sugi wo tadune-te              To visit the cedar trees
tohu hito mo nasi              Not a single person comes.

--

This poem seems to be still away from the capital, perhaps in a mountain village where the cedars, covered by snow, are no longer the goal of visitors. Some commentators link this to KKS 982, in which someone living at Miwa Mountain invites people to see the cedars at their house.

490

冬の池の水に流るるあしかものうきねながらにいくよへぬらん

huyu no ike no                 In a winter pond
midu ni nagaruru               Drifting along in the water
asikamo no                     The duck in the reeds
uki-ne nagara ni               Floating in suffering sleep
ikuyo he-nu-ran                How many nights have passed?

--

The first three lines are a poetic preface (jo) for ukine, which describes both the sleep of the duck floating on the water, and the "floating sleep" of the crying poet. Although there is no explicit love meaning, this is the kind of "preface poem" that the KKS compilers favored in the love volumes of that collection, and we should probably see this one as such a poem too.

491

山ちかみめづらしげなくふる雪のしろくやならん年つもりなば

yama tika-mi                   The mountain is close
medurasi-ge naku               So there's nothing unusual
huru yuki no                   In the falling snow,
siroku ya nara-n               Will my hair too become white,
tosi tumori-na-ba              If the years keep piling up?

--

Like the previous poem, this is a "preface poem", but this time leading to the comparison between snow and white hair. Kifune calls this a comic poem, while Katagiri thinks it is a screen painting poem depicting a man standing near a snowy mountain.

492

松の葉にかかれる雪のそれをこそ冬の花とはいふべかりけれ

matu no ha ni                  On the pine tree leaves
kakare-ru yuki no              The snow falling atop them
ure wo koso                    It is the tips
huyu no hana to ha             That is what we must say are
ihu bekari-kere                The flowers of winter.
It is the tips
Most modern editions read sore wo koso instead, which is perhaps the reading in the tracing of Teika's manuscript. However, the actual Teika manuscript is clearly う rather than そ, and this is also the reading in many other manuscripts (including other Teika texts). It is also the reading of the Kokin waka rokujo version of the poem. sore wo koso" is also poorly attested in the poetic corpus, appearing only in a few later poems.

--

This is on the same lines as poem 475, although this time is it specifically the tips of the snow that looks like flowers. However, the phrase "flowers of winter" is new here. The poem is perhaps based on Shinsen man'yoshu 161, and the first line may have influenced the poet to focus on the matu pine trees.

光まつ枝にかかれる雪をこそ冬の花とはいふべかりけれ
It is the snow on the branches waiting for light that we should say are the flowers of winter.

493

ふる雪はきえでもしばしとまらなん花ももみぢも枝になきころ

huru yuki ha                         O you falling snow,                  
kie-de mo sibasi                     I would have you stop a while
tomara-nan                           Stay without melting.
hana mo momidi mo                    In this time when the branches
eda ni naki koro                     Have no flowers or autumn leaves.

--

Perhaps now the snow has finally reached the capital. The poet wants some beauty in nature, so rather than bare branches he wants the snow to stay. Perhaps this recalls the "snow as flowers" motif of previous poems.

494

涙河身なぐばかりのふちはあれど氷とけぬはゆく方もなし

namidagaha                     My river of tears
mi nagu bakari no              Has become a pool so deep
huti ha are-do                 I could cast myself in
kohori toke-nu ha              But if the ice does not melt
yuku kata mo nasi              There is nothing I can do.
ice does not melt
toke-nu also suggests the heart of the poet's lover not opening itself towards her.

--

This is a love poem, using the image of the "river" and related words (huti, yuku) -- if the lover's heart does not grow warm towards her, she cannot even drown herself in her pool of tears.

495

ふる雪に物思ふわが身おとらめやつもりつもりてきえぬばかりぞ

huru yuki ni                   Does my own body
mono omohu waga                Wracked with worry and sorrow
mi otora-me ya                 Lose out to the snow?
tumoritumori-te                Piling and piling up
kie-nu bakari zo               Never does it disappear.
kie-nu
There is some question over whether this is the negative -nu suffix or the completion -nu; the "completion" reading is a minority position and the negative seems to fit better.

--

This could be a general sorrow poem but given 494 it may be better to read it as love sorrow. There is some uncertainty about what the comparison here is. Either the poet looks at the piling up snow outside her house and thinks "Just like that snow isn't going anywhere, neither are my worries." Or, she may be thinking "That snow will eventually vanish, but my worries never will."

The poem is very similar to one from the Kanemori Collection (46):

物おもひてよにふる雪の侘しきはつもりつもりてきえぬばかりぞ
Sunk in worry, what is sad about the falling snow at night is that it piles up and piles up without stopping.

Here the last part clearly means that the snow is not melting, but whether that bears on the interpretation of the GSS poem is hard to say.

496

よるならば月とぞ見ましわがやどの庭白妙にふりつもるゆき

yoru nara-ba                    Since it is nighttime
tuki to zo mi-masi              I almost see it as the moon
waga yado no                    Outside of my house
niha sirotahe ni                In the garden, the falling
huri-tumoru yuki                Pearl white snow that piles up.

--

The idea of snow looking like moonlight is a common image in Chinese and Japanese poetry (see KKS 332 for instance).

497

むめがえにふりおける雪を春ちかみめのうちつけに花かとぞ見る

mume ga e ni                    On the plum branches
huri-okeru yuki wo              The snow falls and rests atop
haru tika-mi                    Since spring is now near
me no utituke ni                They suddenly appear to me
hana ka to zo miru              As if they were flowers.

--

We have seen many examples of confusion of snow and flowers here. In this case, haru (spring) appears for the first time as we draw near to the end of the winter volume -- the poet knows that spring is coming, and so for a moment he sees the snow as the white plum blossoms. See KKS 335, 337.

498

いつしかと山の桜もわがごとく年のこなたにはるをまつらん

itu sika to                     "When will spring be here!"
yama no sakura mo               The mountain cherry blossoms
waga gotoku                     The same as I do
tosi no konata ni               On this side of the new year
haru wo matu-ran                Seem to be waiting for spring.

--

While the poem is clearly taking place in winter, the nature of the imagery is not immediately clear. Perhaps we are supposed to fill in the blanks that the snow on the cherry branches looks like flowers, suggesting that the trees are impatiently waiting for spring to come. This may also have a love meaning, as suggested by poem 76 in the Kiyomasa Collection:

花さかぬむめのたちえもわがごとやとしのこなたにはるを待つらん
The plum branches with no flowers blooming, like me, seem to be waiting on this side of the year for spring.

This poem was sent to a woman who told him she would answer him after the new year.

499

年深くふりつむ雪を見る時ぞこしのしらねにすむ心ちする

tosi hukaku                     This deep in the year
huri-tumu yuki wo               When I see the falling snow
miru toki zo                    Piling up outside
kosi no sirane ni               I feel as if I'm living
sumu kokoti suru                On White Mountain in Koshi.

--

Sirane or Sirayama is a mountain in Echizen (Koshi) known for snow. The idea here is that spring is approaching, and this person in the capital is surprised that snow is still piling up outside, making him feel that he lives in a rural mountain town.

500

としくれて春あけがたになりぬれば花のためしにまがふ白雪

tosi kure-te                  In the year's sunset
haru akegata ni               As the dawning of the spring
nari-nure-ba                  Has now arrived,
hana no tamesi ni             In imitation of flowers
magahu sirayuki               The befuddling white snow

--

Kifune sees the play of the "sunset" and "dawn" as marking this as a comic poem. This is presumably because the word kuru is commonly used both of the year and of the day, but akegata (dawn) is not typically used of a season. The themes are, once again, the approaching new year and the confusion of snow and flowers.

501

春ちかくふる白雪はをぐら山峯にぞ花のさかりなりける

haru tikaku                      Spring is closing in
huru sirayuki ha                 And the falling white snow
wogurayama                       On Ogura Mountain
mine ni zo hana no               On the peak there are flowers
sakari nari-keru                 In the height of their bloom.

--

This is another snow=flowers poem. The poetic interest here comes from two factors. First, the use of Ogura Mountain -- usually this is a place known for autumn leaves. Here, the poet contrasts the "darkness" (wogurasi) of the mountain with the brightness of the blooming flowers. Second, the poet is going beyond the usual image of little bits of snow on the branches and exaggerating -- the piled up snow on the peak is like the cherry blossoms in full bloom.

502

冬の池にすむにほどりのつれもなくしたにかよはむ人にしらすな

huyu no ike ni                On a winter pond 
sumu nihodori no              Where the niodori lives
ture mo naku                  Heedless of the cold
sita ni kayohamu              Going underneath the lake
hito ni sirasu na             Don't let anyone know it.

--

This is a modified version of KKS 662, which is in the third love volume. Typically this is analyzed as a preface poem, with the bird leading into turenasi (cold, describing the lover). Katagiri says the bird dives underwater to cross the ice, while other commentators make this like the other duck poems, where the bird is calm on the surface but furiously paddling underneath. The biggest question seems to be the third line. A number of KKS commentaries, and Nakayama, take the first section to simply lead into the ture mo naku meaning both "without a mate" (the bird) and "cold". However, Takeoka Masao rejects this idea, and other GSS commentators seem to agree with his reading. The bird is not affected by the cold, just as the poet is not affected by the lover.

503

むばたまのよるのみふれる白雪はてる月影のつもりなりけり

mubatama no                       The white snow that falls
yoru nomi hure-ru                 Only in the berry-black
sirayuki ha                       Night time hours,
teru tukikage no                  Is like the piling up of
tumori nari-keri                  Light of the shining moon.

--

As Nakayama points out, the point of this poem is that the snow which falls only at night (and vanishes in the morning) is like moonlight.

504

この月の年のあまりにたらざらばうぐひすははやなきぞしなまし

kono tuki no                    If only this month
tosi no amari ni                Were not there to fill up
tara-zara-ba                    The year's deficit
uguhisu ha haya                 Then the bush warbler would soon
naki zo si-na-masi              Cry out the coming of spring.
fill up
The third line raises some difficulty. There are many different readings in alternate texts: tahezaraba, tatazaraba, narazaraba, and arazaraba. Kifune emends to arazaraba (if it were not there). Norinaga thought that tatazaraba was correct, analyzing tatu as the month arriving. Katagiri did not emend the text but found Norinaga's argument compelling.

--

The warbler is an early spring bird, as many poems in the spring volumes of the Imperial collections (including the GSS) show. This poem refers to an extra intercalary month needed in some years to match the lunar calendar to the earth's rotation. Kifune reads this as a comic haikai poem -- of course having the extra month does not actually make spring come later, but the poet's longing for spring expresses itself in this way.

505

関こゆる道とはなしにちかながら年にさはりて春をまつかな

seki koyuru                     This is not a road
miti to ha nasi ni              Passing through a barrier gate,
tika-nagara                     But though it is near
tosi ni sahari-te               While it is blocked by the year
haru wo matu kana               I await the spring.

--

Kifune labels this another haikai comic poem, casting the year as a barrier gate blocking the spring from coming. Barrier gates are a common feature of love poetry, which may add to the comic effect. He also raises the possibility of a hidden play on akeru meaning both "open [the gate]" and "dawn [of the new year]".

506

御櫛笥殿の別当に、年を経ていひわたり侍りけるを、え逢はずして、その年の師走のつごもりの日つかはしける

He had sent many messages to the Mistress of the Wardrobe, but was not able to meet her, and on the last day of the 12th month he sent this.

藤原敦忠朝臣

Lord Fujiwara no Atsutada

物思ふとすぐる月日もしらぬまにことしはけふにはてぬとかきく

mono omohu to                          Sunk in my worry
suguru tukihi mo                       When I barely acknowledged
sira-nu ma ni                          Passing days and months
kotosi ha kehu ni                      Today the year is finished
hate-nu to ka kiku                     Or so I hear people say.
Mistress of the Wardrobe
The identity of this woman is uncertain; the Tales of Yamato makes her Fujiwara no Tadahira's daughter, but Yamato episode 92 seems to be a tale stitched together from several poems in the GSS by Atsutada. Kifune suggests this is Fujiwara no Nakahira's daughter, and Kudo identifies her as Fujiwara no Saneyori's daughter.

--

The winter volume, and the seasonal volumes as a whole, end with a love poem -- as Katagiri says, "This fits the GSS style perfectly." Another notable aspect of this poem is that it is a "love for someone not yet seen" poem, which the KKS and later Imperial collections collect in the early Love volumes. The GSS does not organize the Love volumes this way, but perhaps the inclusion of this poem at the end of the seasonal volume was intentional? There is also a connection to the close of other books -- the four main divisions (seasonal, love, miscellaneous, and the final two books) all end with end of year poems.

Nakayama seems to read a secondary meaning in the final line, where hate-nu can also mean "not ending" (his laments are not ending).