(22v) 後撰和歌集　巻第四　夏

夏] 夏歌（行）

147

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

よみ人も

Also the poet

よみ人も] よみ人しらず（行）

今日よりは　夏の衣に　成り・ぬれど　きるひとさへは　かはらざりけり

From today / it has become (3) / the summer clothing (2), but / the wearers themselves / do not change, I see.

さへは: さへ typically means "On top of X, even Y is true". This seems to be the only instance of the pattern "さへは...negative" in the GSS. There are a few examples of this construction in the medieval period but the only other contemporary example in poetry seems to be from the Fujiwara no Kiyomasa collection 16: ほととぎすかねてしちぎるものならばなかぬよさへはまたれざらまし. The medieval examples also end with the hypothetical ...ざらまし. In any case, the expression is like までも...ない in MJ; it indicates that the predicate extends a certain point but no farther. People change their clothes, but they don't go so far as to change their hearts.

--

The summer volume begins with a set of anonymous poems, beginning with two that have no contexts or authors, introducing some of the significant imagery of the first section. However, this poem is attributed to Mitsune in a poetry competition; perhaps the GSS compilers suppressed the context to make the meaning more mysterious or universal.

As the weather gets hotter, people change to lighter summer clothing. Katagiri notes that the focus on the hearts of people is characteristic of the GSS, but it's hard to say exactly what the meaning is. The use of hito suggests a love poem with a woman complaining about a man, as in Kigin's reading. But perhaps because this is the opposite of the usual changing hearts of men, Kifune says that the hito is actually the poet herself, and it's her sorrow that doesn't change. Katagiri seems to take this in a more general sense -- people's hearts are not like the light clothing we change into, and thus stay the same.

The love meaning is more evident in Shoku kokin wakashu 1542, which uses this as a honka:

今日見れば夏の衣になりにけりうきはかはらぬ身をいかにせん

Today I see that people have changed to summer clothing. What will happen to my sorrowful heart which does not change?

It's hard to tell what this means for the medieval reading of the poem since it was common to use a non-love poem as a honka for a love poem.

A similar feeling is found in SIS 1002, though about spring:

あたらしき年にはあれども鶯の鳴く音さへには変わらざりけり

It's a new year, but it seems that only the sound of the warbler has not changed.

"Summer clothes" is not a common seasonal image in waka. The word なつごろも is mostly used as a 枕詞, with only a handful of poems in the first eight collections referring to actual summer clothing.

--

Other sources:

亭子院歌合４２, topic 四月, 躬恒. vs. みやまいでてまづはつこゑはほととぎすよぶかくまたむわがやどになけ by 雅固. Mitsune's poem loses. Uda's comments: みぎあぢきなしとてまく.
袋草子 - includes the poetry competition. This version's judgment specifies that the fourth line was あぢきなし.

148

歌ナシ（荒）

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

卯の花の　さけるかきねの　月きよみ　いねずきけとや　なくほととぎす

On a fence where bloom (2) / the deutzia flowers (1) / the moon is bright, and so / don't leave and listen, it seems, / the cuckoo cries.

月きよみ: The み here is "therefore". The word きよし is used most often with water. Takeoka suggests in the context of KKS 316 that it indicates a "cold" light rather than simply clear or beautiful, but 316 is a winter poem. Here it would seem to have more of a "clear" meaning, to create the image of this scene illuminated by bright moonlight on a cloudless night.

いねずきけとや: 「去ねず聞け」とや. The や indicates supposition on the poet's part.

The cuckoo cries: Kifune says that the entire poem up to this point is what the warbler is crying, while Katagiri takes only the fourth line as the warbler's cry.

--

The u no hana (deutzia) appears in only one late summer poem in the KKS (164), but starting with the GSS it becomes a major seasonal image of early summer. It often occurs with warblers or the moon, but Kifune suggests this is the first poem to combine all three images.

Kigin and Kudo both note how this poem paints a picture in the first three lines and then adds sound in the last one. Perhaps this was originally a screen painting. It also occurs in both the Ise Collection and the Yakamochi Collection with a different second line.

月をだにあかず思ひてねぬものをほととぎすさへなきわたるかな

I cannot sleep, thinking longingly of the moon, and even the warbler continues to cry. (Kokin waka rokujo 4430, Ki no Tsurayuki)

万葉集〔８Ｃ後〕一〇・一九八八「うぐひすの通ふ垣根（かきね）の卯の花のうき事あれや君が来まさぬ〈作者未詳〉」

Other sources:

夫木和歌集２８０１（家持）, 2nd line にほふさつきの
家持集７０, 2nd line にほふさつきの
伊勢集４４３, 2nd line にほふさかりは(I, II, IV -- III contains two versions of the poem, one with さつきの, one with さかりは)

149

卯月ばかり、友だちの住み侍りける所近く侍りて、「必ず消息つかはしてむ」と待ちけるに、音なく侍りければ

Around the 4th month, a friend was living in a place near their house. They said "don't fail to send me a letter" and waited, but there was no answer.

[Poet unknown]

郭公きゐるかきねはちかながらまちどほにのみ声のきこえぬ

hototogisu                     The fence on which the
ki-wiru kakine ha              Cuckoo has come and is sitting
tika-nagara                    Is close to me, but
matidoho ni nomi               I just wait expectantly,
kowe no kikoe-nu               And do not hear the bird's voice.

--

The initial anonymous poems are followed by two exchanges -- one by friends, and one by lovers. This poems uses the cuckoo as a metaphor for the friend, who is nearby but does not send the voice (letter). There is also a contrast in the poem with tika (close) and the doho (far) of matidoho (wait expectantly).

Kigin's Hachidaishusho has a different third line -- tiri-nagara ("has scattered, and yet"). This is found in no other manuscript and seems to be a mistake, but it results in a different explanation of the poem. Kigin interprets this as the deutzia flower having scattered, and so the cuckoo doesn't come to cry.

150

返し

Response

[Poet Unknown]

ほととぎす声まつほどはとをからでしのびにかうをかかぬなるらん

hototogisu                    The time you need wait
kowe matu hodo ha             For the cuckoo's cry to come
tohokara-de                   Is not that far, and
sinobi ni naku wo             My voice crying hidden tears
kika-nu-naru-ran              You seem not to have heard it.

--

The response is partly explanation and apology, and part a reproach on the original poet (perhaps for not visiting?) This kind of playful reproach is common in responses to love poetry. The first part of the poem refers to the 4th month in which the poem was composed -- normally cuckoos come in the 5th month. Kifune calls this a skilled composition.

151

もの言ひかはし侍りける人の、つれなく侍りければ、その家の垣根の卯の花を折りて言ひ入れて侍りける

A person who he had been involved with had become cold to him, and he broke off a deutzia flower from the fence at her house and sent it in to her with this poem.

[Poet unknown]

うらめしき君がかきねの卯の花はうしと見つつもなほたのむかな

uramesiki                     You are cold to me
kimi ga kakine no             Just like the deutzia flowers
u no hana ha                  Growing on your fence,
usi to mi-tutu mo             Though I suffer many times,
naho tanomu kana              Still I rely on your love.

Been involved with: The Japanese ihikahasu can denote several degrees of a relationship; this could also be a woman who he has simply been exchanging letters with and is not able to see. This is typical of the GSS' vague yet suggestive language in the prose prefaces, which some scholars believe invited the readers to imagine their own story.

deutzia flowers: The u flower suggests usi (suffer).

--

The exchange of poetry between friends is following by this private exchange between lovers. The association of the deutzia flowers with love problems is commonplace in poetry although it only shows up in two KKS poems, including this summer poem by Mitsune (164):

ほととぎす我とはなしに卯の花の憂き世の中になきわたるらむ

The warbler is not me, so why is it crying in this hateful world?

In this poem, the 卯の花の acts as a pillow word or preface to 憂き, while also suggesting the summer flowers. Some texts of the GSS read u no hana no for poem 151, perhaps due to influence from this poem. Following that reading, the first few lines become a preface.

Another poem that may be an influence on this one is KKS 792, by Tomonori:

水の泡のきえでうき身といひながら流れてなほもたのまるるかな

Like the bubbles of water that float without popping, I float in suffering, and yet I can't stop relying on you.

The same texts that read u no hana no in the third line also read naho tanomaruru kana in the fifth line, also matching the KKS poem.

Several commentaries also point out that the repetition of u throughout the poem (uramesiki, u no hana, usi) shows a skilled compositional technique.

Finally, in yet another example of textual variation, some texts of this poem read kokoro wo rather than kakine wo, which also emphasizes the usi meaning.

152

返し

Response

うき物と思ひしりなば卯の花のさけるかきねもたづねざらまし

ukimono to                     If you thought of me
omohisiri-na-ba                As a hateful person, then
u no hana no                   You would not visit
sake-ru kakine mo              The fence in front of my house
tadune-zara-masi               Where the deutzia flowers bloom.

Deutzia flowers: As in the last poem, the u flowers suggest uki (hateful).

--

The response picks up on the man's imagery. Given the prose preface in the preceding poem, the woman's response seems rather ironic and cold, although Kifune denies this. He says that she is being calm and restrained. Kudo interprets the poem as meaning the relationship is over, but I'm not clear where that comes from in the poem.

An interesting variant in alternate texts is nan rather than masi in the final line. This changes the meaning to "I want you to not visit" rather than "You would not visit", turning it into a bold statement that she is no longer interested.

153

卯の花の垣根ある家にて

At a house with deutzia flowers growing on the fence

時わかずふれる雪かと見るまでにかきねもたわにさける卯の花

toki waka-zu                It even looks like
fure-ru yuki ka to          It could be the falling snow,
miru made ni                Heedless of season,
kakine mo tawa ni           The fence bending from the load
sake-ru u no hana           Of blooming deutzia flowers.

--

This is a poem of unclear circumstance -- some alternate texts have different wording for the prose preface that suggests a love affair, but there's nothing in the poem itself that would suggest love metaphors or imagery. Instead, this seems to be the standard mitate (feigned confusion) seasonal poem, one popular in public poetry. The poem also appears as SIS 94 with "circumstance unknown."

Although the comparison of plum flowers and snow is commonplace, using the imagery with the white deutzia flowers is not found in the MY or KKS (per Kifune). The use of tawa, suggesting a branch bending under the weight of snow, enhances the "feigned confusion" with vivid imagery.

154

友だちの訪ひまでこぬことをうらみつかはすとて

Sent by someone upset at a friend not visiting.

白妙ににほふかきねの卯の花のうくもきてとふ人のなきかな

sirotahe ni               Like white cloth they bloom
nihohu kakine no          Brilliant they bloom on the fence,
u no hana no              The deutzia flowers,
uku mo ki-te tohu         I begrudge that visitors
hito no naki kana         Don't come, not a single one.

deutzia: See the previous poems for the play on u and uku.

come: The verb kite suggests kite (wear), which is a poetic association with the sirotahe (white) in the opening line.

--

This is a private anonymous poem similar to 148, but without a response. The first three lines are a poetic preface (jo) for the word uku (begrudge), although we might imagine the poet looking out at the flowers growing on her own fence.

The construction and sentiment is similar to several MYS poems:

鴬の通ふ垣根の卯の花の憂きことあれや君が来まさぬ (v10, 1988)

Like the deutzia flowers blooming on the fence visited by the warbler, I am annoyed that you do not visit.

ほととぎす鳴く峰の上の卯の花の憂きことあれや君が来まさぬ　(v8, 1501)

Like the deutzia flowers on the mountain peak visited by the cuckoo, I am annoyed that you do not visit.

155

[Poet unknown]

時わかず月か雪かとみるまでにかきねのままにさける卯の花

toki waka-zu                  It looks to me like
tuki ka yuki ka to            The moon or perhaps the snow
miru made ni                  That cannot tell time,
kakine no mama ni             The blooming deutzia flowers
sakeru u no hana              That themselves become the fence.

Prose preface: Because there is no preface, the normal conventions of a collection would mean the previous preface applies to this poem as well. However, "Sent by someone upset at a friend not visiting" makes no sense as a preface for this poem. One of Teika's earlier texts has this poem after 153, in which case the preface would be "At the house where deutzia flowers are on a fence". I am tempted to agree with a minority of variant texts that this should be "circumstance unknown". Perhaps at some point in the editing process -- either of the collection itself or the manuscript tradition -- this poem was moved from another location (like after 153) and the editors neglected to insert "circumstance unknown" to reflect the change. This seems like the kind of anonymous constructed poem that is common in both the GSS and KKS. Kifune is the only modern editor to emend the text; the other two editions don't even mention the missing preface. Norinaga, the Shinsho, and Kigin all insert the phrase as well.

become the fence: In other words, they are so profusely blooming that they cover the fence to the point where only the flowers can be seen.

--

As I said above, I believe this is an anonymous, public-style poem using the common mitate (feigned confusion) poetic technique. This section seems to be constructed by alternating between poems with no context and those with context.

156

鳴きわびぬいづちゆかんほととぎすなほ卯の花の影ははなれじ

naki-wabi-nu                  Crying out in pain,
iduti yuka-n                  It wants to leave for somewhere,
hototogisu                    The crying cuckoo,
naho u no hana no             And yet it cannot part from
kage ha hanare-zi             The shade of deutzia flowers.

--

As with 155, this poem is more likely an anonymous, public-style composition than a continuation of 154's poetic preface. The poem puts the speaker's feelings on the warbler -- just as the crying warbler can't leave the deutzia flowers, I, crying helplessly, cannot leave this hateful world. The same play on u (deutzia) and usi (hateful) is here as well. See KKS 164 cited above, as well as KKS 153 by Mitsune, where the second line derives:

五月雨に物思ひをればほととぎす夜深くなきていづち行くらむ

Where is the warbler going, crying in the deepening night, sitting in worry in the rain?

157

卯月ばかりの月おもしろかりける夜、人につかはしける

On a night in the 4th month when the moon was beautiful, sent to a person

あひ見しもまた見ぬこひも郭公月になくよぞよににざりける

ahi-mi-si mo                 Love after meeting,
mata mi-nu kohi mo           Or love for one not yet seen,
hototogisu                   Neither can compare
tuki ni naku yo zo           To a night when the cuckoo
yo ni ni-zari-keru           Is crying out for the moon.

--

This seems like a love poem from the prose preface, especially with the use of hito (usually denoting a lover). However, the imagery of the poem itself is not typical of such a poem. What would the lover be supposed to feel about this? The first two lines refer to common situations in love poetry -- a poem addressed to one you have spent the night with, and a poem about someone you have heard about (or communicated with) but not yet seen. I wonder if this was not originally an abstract poem making a witty comparison between these common love situations which are so evocative of poetry, and the poetry one can compose on a moonlit summer night.

The Shinsho also found the poem a bit off, and records a theory that this is a poem written about a forbidden love. The poem is couched in the witty comparison I mentioned above, but actually points to their love which is between a "love after meeting" and a "love for one not yet seen." The feeling would then be that the summer night we shared together is better than these poetically appropriate situations. Kifune seems to generally agree with this approach.

The connection between the cry of the cuckoo and love goes back the MYS, but is also found in anonymous KKS 146:

ほととぎすなく声きけばわかれにし古里さへぞ恋しかりける

When I hear the cry of the cuckoo, I long not only for the people but even for the village I left behind.

158

女のもとにつかはしける

Sent to a woman.

有りとのみおとはの山の郭公ききにきこえてあはずもあるがな

ari to nomi                   I have only heard
otoha no yama no              Rumors of the cuckoo at
hototogisu                    Otoha mountain
kiki ni kikoe-te              I hear it and I hear it
aha-zu mo aru gana            But I can't meet it at all.

Otoha no yama: This is a common image in love poetry. It is an actual mountain but here it's being used to suggest the woman only heard about but not seen.

I hear it and I hear it: kiki ni kikoe-te is a doubling of the verb for emphasis and to fill out the meter.

--

Perhaps as a direct followup to the last poem, here is one on the subject of "love for someone not yet seen."

Some examples from the KKS of the association of Otoha Mountain with cuckoos, and love:

おとは山けさ超えくればほととぎす梢はるかに今ぞなくなる

I crossed over Otoha Mountain this morning but I can still hear the far off cuckoo crying in the branches. (142 Mitsune)

おとは山こだかく鳴きてほととぎすきみがわかれををしむべらなり

At Mount Otoha, the cuckoo crying in the high branches seems to lament my parting from you. (384, Tsurayuki)

おとは山おとに聞きつつ相坂の関のこなたに年をふるかな

I hear only rumors of the Otoha Mountain, but I spend my years on this site of the Meeting Slope Barrier. (473, Motokata)

159

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

伊勢

Ise

こがくれてさ月まつとも郭公はねならはしに枝うつりせよ

kogakure-te                  Hiding in the trees
satuki matu tomo             Waiting for the fifth month
hototogisu                   Even so, cuckoos,
hane narasi ni               Spread your wings and practice now,
eda uturi-seyo               Fly from one branch to to the next.

--

The first poem by a named poet in this volume is on the cuckoo. The position in the anthology suggests the 4th month (the prose preface in the Ise Collection makes this explicit). Cuckoos are generally associated with the fifth month, so here they have not arrived yet. Kudo calls this a humorous poem.

The sentiment is similar to KKS 137, anonymous:

五月待つ山ほととぎすうちはぶき今もなかなむ去年のふる声

Cuckoos waiting for the 5th month; Spread your wings and cry now, the voice I heard last year.

The version of the poem in the Ise Collection is closer to the KKS poem. The last two lines read madasiki hodo no kowe wo kikabaya (I want to hear your immature voice).

160

藤原のかつみの命婦に住みける男、人の手に移り侍りにけるまたの年、かきつばたにつけて、かつみにつかはしける

A man who was living with Myobo Fujiwara no Katsumi, after she had fallen into the hands of another man, attached an iris flower and sent this to Katsumi.

吉岑善方朝臣

Lord Yoshimine no Yoshikata

いひそめし昔のやどの杜若色ばかりこそかたみなりけれ

ihi-some-si                At the old dwelling
mukasi no yado no          Where we spent time together
kakitubata                 The only thing left
iro bakari koso            To act nostalgic for me
katami nari-kere           Is the iris' color.

Prose preface: This is another example of the GSS' prose preface style that has confused and annoyed a number of scholars. It's written in the style of a poem tale using the generic noun wotoko despite this being by a named author. Also, the syntax is in a casual spoken style. Norinaga thought the sentence structure was mistaken, and meant that the man had fallen into the hands of another person. But the context makes the meaning clear, and there's no reason to think this is a mistake. It's simply a casual, spoken-style poem tale preface of the kind favored by the GSS compilers.

--

This is a private love poem embedded in a poem-tale structure. In addition to the comments above, the Shinsho notes that the preface is not really enough to understand the situation, and that we should imagine him standing in the garden. The accusation of vagueness has some merit -- clearly the idea is that the house itself is now visited by the other man, but why should the iris in particular be so nostalgic? Perhaps this is half of a lost poem-tale that had more context, or perhaps this fits with Sato Takaakira's idea that the compilers deliberately included vague or incomplete contexts for the readers to imagine their own situation or conclusion.

The kakitubata (Japanese iris) is a rare image in court poetry. In the seasonal volumes of the first eight collections it occurs only here, and in Kin'yoshu 78 where it is a spring poem. The famous kakitubata poem from the Tales of Ise (and KKS 410) is more about the wordplay and doesn't contain the flower itself.

Perhaps the imagery and reasoning behind the iris ultimately derives from MYS 11.2521:

かきつはた丹つらふ君をいささめにおもひいでつつ嘆きつるかも

You with the face beautiful like the iris; when I remember you suddenly I lament.

161

賀茂の祭りの物見侍りける女の車にいひいれて侍りける

He sent this poem in to a carriage of women going to sightsee at the Kamo Festival.

読み人しらず

Poet unknown

ゆきかへるやそうぢ人の玉かづらかけてぞたのむ葵てふ名を

yukikahe-ru                Going and coming
yasoudi hito no            The mass of people all wear
tamakadura                 Katsura flowers
kake-te zo tanomu          My heart rather relies on
ahuhi tehu na wo           The meeting day hollyhock.

Kamo festival: This was held in the 4th month and was one of the most important festivals of the year. There were purification rituals and great processions of carriages from the capital. Flowers were used as decoration on the carriages, houses, and people. The katsura tree flowers as well as the aoi (hollyhock) were especially common.

Katsura flowers: As above, associated with the Kamo festival. Here it's used to lead into kakete, which refers to putting the flowers on yourself, but also suggests kokoro wo kakete (think deeply in your heart).

Hollyhock: ahuhi can be read as the hollyhock flower, or "meeting day."

--

This is a private exchange done at the Kamo Festival. Since women were not often out in public, this was a good chance for a gallant to send a poem to a carriage of women, especially given the obvious chance offered by the ahuhi hollyhock flower.

162

返し

Response

ゆふだすきかけてもいふなあだ人の葵てふなはみそぎにぞせし

yuhudasuki                    While wearing your sash
kakete mo ihu na              Don't talk about meeting days.
adabito no                    The hollyhock name
ahuhi tehu na ha              Of one who is unfaithful,
misogi ni zo sesi             Our lustrations washed away.

Sash: This is basically a pillow word for kakete because you put on (kakeru) the sash, which leads into kakete mo (not at all). However, given the context of the Kamo Festival it also acts as a word relevant to the scene.

Meeting days: This poem has the same wordplay as the last one, with ahuhi as both "hollyhock" and "meeting day".

--

The women's response deftly turns the romantic language used by the man back on him. They put the word kakete to good use, playing on three meanings -- the "think deeply in one's heart" from the man's poem, the wearing of the sash, and the meaning of kakete mo (not at all). The ritual purifications of the festival are used to suggest that by washing the hollyhock clean, the man's attempt at a flighty romance has also been swept away. Kifune says that this is a skilled poet familiar with the world (or at least the conventions of turning a man away via a poem).

The imagery recalls the anonymous KKS 487, with the same play on kakete ("wear" and "think of").

ちはやぶる賀茂の社のゆうだすき一日も君をかけぬ日はなし

The sash of the Kamo Shrine: there is not a day I don't think of you.

However, the triple play on kakete mo is new to this poem.

163

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

このごろはさみだれちかみ郭公思ひみだれてなかぬ日ぞなき

kono goro ha                    At this time of year
samidare tika-mi                The rains of the fifth month near
hototogisu                      And so the cuckoo
omohi-midare-te                 With thoughts all in a tizzy
naka-nu hi zo naki              There's no day it doesn't cry.

--

On the surface this is a simple seasonal poem, using the image of the fifth month rains to explain why the cuckoo cries so much. Kifune sees it in this way, and adds that there is a humorous touch to the midare of samidare (fifth month rains) being reused in omohi-midare (thoughts in a tizzy).

Most commentators see a hidden love meaning here, with the initial three lines leading into the disordered thoughts and crying of the poet. This seems to match KKS 153, a poem composed by Tomonori at a poetry contest:

五月雨に物思ひをればほととぎす夜ふかくなきていづち行くらむ

When I am worrying in the fifth month rains, where is the cuckoo going, crying all night long?

Although this is a seasonal image, the mono-omohi is strongly connected with love poetry, especially by women.

This poem is probably a honka for Shoku goshuishu 303, by Minamoto no Toshiyori:

このごろは小舟の山にたつ鹿の声をほにあげてなかぬ日ぞなき

At this time of year, the voices of the deer on Obune Mountain raise the sail and never stop crying.

(The "raise the sail" is a pun on Obune mountain, which means "small boat mountain".)

Finally, this poem occurs in current manuscripts of the Tsurayuki Collection. Given how interested the compilers were in Tsurayuki's poetry, and the fact that one of the compilers was Ki no Tsurayuki's son, it seems more likely that this is an anonymous poem that later became associated with Tsurayuki somehow.

164

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

まつ人は誰ならなくにほととぎす思ひの外になかばうからん

matu hito ha                The one who's waiting
tare nara-naku ni           Is myself and no one else,
hototogisu                  So cuckoo, if you
omohi no hoka ni            Cry where they are not waiting,
naka-ba uka-ran             I will be quite mad at you.

--

The first line could mean either "the one who is waiting" or "the one who I am waiting for." If you follow Katagiri and see a subtext of a love poem here (with a woman waiting for a man), then the latter meaning would fit better.

This poem occurs in the Emperor Teiji Poetry Contest with a slightly different second line (tune nara-naku ni).

165

にほひつつちりにし花ぞおもほゆる夏は緑の葉のみしげれば

nihohi-tutu                    While still in beauty
tiri-ni-si hana zo             The flowers all have scattered,
omohoyuru                      They come to my mind
natu no midori no              In summer when all that grows
ha nomi sigere-ba              Are the profuse leaves of green.

--

Even in the summer, the poets in the capital still long for the spring flowers. The dominant image of the surrounding poems is the cuckoo, and this single poem on green leaves and fallen flowers appear. Katagiri connects it to the next poem, which is also about looking back on spring.

Jotomon-in seems to have used this poem as a honka in Gyokuyoshu 2301. The prose preface says that she was lamenting the late Emperor Go-Suzaku, and when she was at the Shirakawa-in in the 4th month, she looked at branches where the flowers had fallen.

をしまれし梢の花はちりはてていとふみどりの葉のみしげれば

The flowers I longed for have fallen completely, and only the hateful green leaves are blooming.

This poem appears in the 4th miscellaneous book and is clearly a sorrow poem. Perhaps influenced by this poem, Nakayama (Shinsho) thinks that there may be a hidden meaning behind the GSS poem as well. Kifune thinks that 163-165 were arranged to make a love story (thus the suppression of the poetry contest context of 164). This poem then becomes one of sorrow for a relationship that has ended.

166

朱雀院の東宮におはしましける時、帯刀ら、五月ばかり御書所にまかりて、酒などたうべて、これかれ歌よみけるに

When Emperor Suzaku was still Crown Prince, the Crown Prince's Guards went to the Records Office, drank and ate, and various people composed poems.

大春日師範

Okasuga no Moronori

さみだれに春の宮人くる時は郭公をやうぐひすにせん

samidare ni              In the fifth month rains
haru no miyabito         When the palace men of spring
kuru toki ha             Come and gather here,
hototogisu wo ya         If only the cuckoo could
uguhisu ni se-n          Turn into a warbler now!

still Crown Prince: This was between 925 and 930.

Crown Prince's Guards: The 帯刀, read tatihaki, are a group of about 30 men who served as guards for the Crown Prince. The Records Office (gozyosyo) is evidently where they worked.

Okasuga no Moronori: Known only from this poem, although the 14th century Chokusen sakusha burui says that he was of the 6th rank.

Fifth month rains: samidare also plays on sa midare ("in this state of confusion"), referring to their drinking.

Palace men of spring: Because tougu (Crown Prince) can be written as 東宮, using the character for "spring," this is a reference to the Crown Prince's guards.

--

This is a public occasional poem of greeting. Moronori wants the more appropriate spring warbler to be there rather than the summer cuckoo, because of the Crown Prince's association with spring.

A similar idea occurs in the poetry collection of Onakatomi no Yorimoto, a poet contemporary with the GSS compilers. It was written at an autumn gathering when they visited the Crown Prince, and they heard geese crying.

鳴く雁は来るか帰るかおぼつかな春の宮にて秋のよなれば

It's unclear whether the crying geese are going or coming, because we're at the Spring Palace in autumn.

Geese leave in the spring and return in the autumn.

167

夏の夜、深養父が琴弾くを聞きて

On a summer night, he heard [Kiyohara no] Fukayabu's koto playing.

藤原兼輔朝臣

Lord Fujiwara no Kanesuke

みじか夜のふけゆくままに高砂の峯の松風ふくかとぞきく

midikayo no                The short summer night
huke-yuku mama ni          Continues to deepen, and
takasago no                It seems that I hear
mine no matukaze           The wind blowing through the pines
huku ka to zo kiku         Of the Takasago Peak.

--

The image of short summer nights occurs in KKS 156, 157, and 166, but in those poems they are combined with summer imagery like the cuckoo. The GSS uses the image to show things that actually occured on short summer nights. In this case, a gathering of friends. This poem and 168 are occasional poems of praise for the koto.

Clearly the poem is praising the koto playing by comparing it to the sound of wind through mountain pines, but the basis of this comparison is not immediately clear. Many commentaries seem to interpret this in light of SIS 451, which was composed on a set topic of a Chinese line of verse: 松風入夜琴　(The autumn wind entering a koto at night). This seems to derive from the Tang poet Li Jiao. The poem, by Princess Kishi, is as follows:

琴の音に峰の松風通ふらしいづれのおより調べそめけん

The sound of the koto seems to resemble the mountain wind. Which mountain, and which string, is the music coming from?

In addition to the Li Jiao line, Katagiri and Kudo cite several Bai Juyi poems that compare the koto playing to a mountain wind. So it seems like this comparison may have been simply picked up from Chinese precedent.

This is one of two poems from the summer volume selected by Fujiwara no Shunzei in his Korai futeisho.

168

同じ心を

With the same feeling

つらゆき

[Ki no] Tsurayuki

葦引きの山した水はゆきかよひことのねにさへながるべらなり

asibiki no                   The water flowing
yamasitamizu ha              Hidden in the mountain trees 
yuki-kayohi                  Is like the playing
koto no ne ni sahe           Of the koto which also
nagaru bera-nari             Moves me to tears with its sound.

asibiki no: This is a pillow word for yama (mountain).

Tears: nagaru (flow) plays on nakaru (cry).

--

The prose preface would seem to indicate that this was read by Tsurayuki at some other gathering about someone else's playing. The poem is not in the Tsuayuki Collection so there is no more information than what we have here. A few non-Teika texts drop the prose preface (making it take the same preface as the preceeding poem), but the connection between the poems is clear regardless. The Shinsho and Kifune both note the pairing of the wind and the mountain water in the two poems.

Katagari intreprets the first part of the poem as a humble reference to Tsurayuki himself -- "Even I, uncultured as I am, am brought to tears by your playing." But he also notes a parallel that was also mentioned by pre-modern commentators as well. It was said that the Summer and Autumn period figures Bo Ya and Zhong Ziqi were such good friends, that anything Bo Ya played, Zhong Ziqi could understand. If Bo Ya thought of mountains while he played, Ziqi would feel the playing as mountains. If Bo Ya thought of flowing water, Ziqi would hear that as well. So in that respect the poem could be seen as showing Tsurayuki's friendship with whoever was playing the instrument, and also provide a comparison between the playing and the mountains and water.

169

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

藤原高経朝臣

Lord Fujiwara no Takatsune

夏の夜はあふ名のみして敷妙のちりはらふまにあけぞしにける

natu no yo ha               On nights of summer
ahu na nomi si-te           "Meeting" is only a word,
sikitahe no                 In the time it takes
tiri harahu ma ni           To brush the dust from the bed,
ake zo si-ni-keru           The day has already come.

bed: Usually sikitahe is a pillow word for "pillow" or other things, but here it is functioning as a noun for the bed itself.

--

This is a love poem. In the KKS, such a poem occurs in the love volumes, such as 635 by Ono no Komachi:

秋の夜も名のみなりけり逢ふといへば事ぞともなく明けぬるものを

The autumn night is just a name! We say "meeting" but before anything happens it dawns.

Here the poem serves to lead into a series of poems on love and the shortness of summer nights.

170

[Circumstance unknown]

壬生忠岑

[Mibu no Tadamine]

夢よりもはかなき物は夏の夜の暁がたの別れなりけり

yume yori mo                   What I have found is
hakanaki mono ha               More ephemeral than a dream:
natu no yo no                  On a summer night
akatukigata no                 As the dawn breaks with pale light
wakare nari-keri               I must part from you, my love.

--

My translation is fairly expansive and flowery, but it perhaps fits better with the prose preface given in the Tadamine Collection for this poem: "He had been secretly seeing a woman, and after nothing had happened, dawn broke, so he wrote this to her."

Similar poems are found in the KKS, such as 859 by Oe no Chisato:

もみぢ葉を風にまかせて見るよりもはかなき物は命なりけり

What is more ephemeral than looking at falling autumn leaves blowing in the breeze, is life.

The Hyoshaku calls this a "beautiful poem." The pseudo-Teika Teika juttei includes this as an example of the Yugen style, suggesting a profound depth.

171

あひしりて侍りける中の、かれこれも心ざしは有りながら、つつむことありて、えあはざりければ

In the midst of a relationship, they both had intent [to continue], but there were things preventing them, and they could not meet.

[Poet unknown]

よそながら思ひしよりも夏の夜の見はてぬ夢ぞはかなかりける

yoso nagara                       When we had not met,
omohi-si yori mo                  Longing for you from afar,
natu no yo no                     Even more fleeting
mi-hate-nu yume zo                Is the unfinished dreaming
hakanakari-keru                   Of a short summer night.

--

This is a love poem. The vague poem preface suggests a story without providing the specifics, but the theme of a forbidden love (usually because of status) is a common one in court love poetry. See 157 above for a similar idea.

But what is the unfinished dreaming? It seems to be a metaphor for the two being unable to meet. The Shinsho links this to the idea that one would meet a lover in dreams because they could not meet in real life, but this dream meeting was usually said to be unfulfilling. Some texts read noti instead of naka, which would make the first phrase "After meeting..." In this case, the "dream" would be a reference to the single short night they spent together.

KKS 609 by Tadamine also uses the imagery found in this poem:

命にもまさりておしくある物は見果てぬ夢の覚むるなりけり

What is even more regretful than life is awakening from an unfinished dream.

The Hyoshaku labels this a skilled poem, that evokes the ephemeral well.

172

夏の夜、しばし物語して帰りにける人のもとに、またのあしたつかはしける

On a summer night, after chatting for a bit the man went home, and she sent this to him the next morning

伊勢

Ise

ふた声と聞くとはなしに郭公夜深くめをもさましつるかな

hutakowe to                    Not even hearing
kiku to ha nasi ni             The second cry from the lips
hototogisu                     Of the cuckoo bird
yobukaku me wo mo              In the deepness of the night
samasi-turu kana               I have now been awakened.

--

The cuckoo image comes back as the summer night love poetry continues, although this poem does not involve the short night. The cuckoo who only cries a single time acts as a metaphor for the man who returns too quickly.

The poem is similar to KKS 156 by Tsurayuki:

夏の夜のふすかとすればほととぎすなくひとこゑに明くるしののめ

On a summer night as soon as I lay down, day dawns with a single cuckoo cry.

In Ise's poem the dawn has not yet come.

This poem also appears as SIS 96, where it is said to be a poem on a screen painting. In the Ise Collection it is an occasional summer poem, composed when Ise heard a cuckoo at night. It also appears in the Kokin waka rokujo attributed to Mitsune, and in the Fujiwara no Motosuke Collection. Apparently this was a popular poem that spread around in various guises.

173

人のもとにつかはしける

Sent to a person

藤原安国

Fujiwara no Yasukuni

あふと見し夢にならひて夏の日のくれがたきをも歎きつるかな

ahu to mi-si                   I've gotten used to
yume ni narahi-te              Dreams where the two of us met
natu no hi no                  And on summer nights
kure-gataki wo mo              I find myself lamenting
nageki-turu kana               How long it takes to get dark!

--

This is another love poem on short summer nights, although in this case rather than lamenting the shortness of the night itself, the poet laments how long it will take to get dark. The poet seems to be waiting to meet his lover in dreams since they cannot meet for real. Another interpretation of the poem is that they now are meeting for real, and he is lamenting how long it will take for night to fall so they can meet. The latter seems to be a minority position.

174

[Sent to a person]

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

うとまるる心しなくは郭公あかぬ別れにけさはけなまし

utoma-ruru                      If your shallow heart
kokoro si naku ha               Did not fill me with distaste
hototogisu                      O you cuckoo bird,
aka-nu wakare ni                In our parting before dawn
kesa ha ke-na-masi              I would not vanish away.

Distaste: Utomaruru can be either passive, or 自発 (spontaneous). I interpret it as the latter.

--

This is another love poem with the cuckoo as a metaphor for the unfeeling man who leaves before dawn. The utomaruru may refer to the man, in which case he dislikes the woman. More commentators take this to be the woman's feeling at the man's action.

The poem seems to be based on the anonymous KKS 147:

ほととぎすなが鳴くさとのあまたあれば猶うとまれぬ思ふものから

O cuckoo, you cry at so many different houses, so indeed I am filled with distaste, and yet...

If this is the source, the poem is criticizing the man for having multiple lovers. If his heart were not so shallow, he would feel more deeply for her and she would not have to die from his neglect.

175

思うこと侍りけるころ、ほととぎすを聞きて

When they were thinking, they heard a cuckoo.

[Poet unknown]

折はへてねをのみぞなく郭公しげきなげきの枝ことにゐて

worihahete                   They cry and they cry
ne wo nomi zo naku           On and on without ceasing
hototogisu                   The flocks of cuckoo
sigeki nageki no             Sitting on many branches
eda koto ni wi-te            Of the trees of my laments.

Trees of my laments: nageki (lament) is a pivot word leading into ki (tree).

--

This is a poem of worry, perhaps about love, perhaps about something else. It uses the summer cuckoo image as a metaphor for the poet's continuous crying.

The poem may be based on the anonymous KKS 150:

あしきひの山ほととぎすをりはへて誰かまさると音をのみぞ鳴く

The cuckoos from the mountains seem to be continuously crying, daring anyone to cry louder.

Another similar poem is in Tales of Yamato 65:

なげきのみしげきみ山のほととぎす木隠れゐても音をのみぞ鳴く

All I do is lament like the cuckoo in the densely wooded mountain; crying ceaselessly it hides among the trees. (Trans. Tahara)

This poem appears in the Ise Collection with a different second line (naki-nu bera-nari "I seem to hear them cry").

176

四五月ばかり、遠き国へまかり下らむとするころ、郭公を聞きて

In the fourth or fifth month, as he was preparing to go to a far province, he heard a cuckoo

[Poet unknown]

ほととぎすきては旅とや鳴き渡る我は別れのをしき宮こを

hototogisu                      The cuckoo has come
ki-te ha tabi ya to             Continuously crying
naki-wataru                     "This is a journey!"
ware ha wakare no               But for me, the capital
wosiki miyako wo                Is difficult to part from.

Far province: Probably he has received an appointment to one of the provinces far from the capital; an undesirable post that was sometimes interpreted as an exile.

--

This is a travel, or parting poem using the imagery of the cuckoo in the summer. Exactly what "This is a journey!" (tabi ya) means is unclear. Kigin and Kifune interpret it to mean that the cuckoo has come to visit the capital, and thus considers this his joyful destination. But the poet is sad to part from it. Kudo and Katagiri seem to think the cuckoo is starting the journey along with the poet.

The idea of the sad cry of the cuckoo may build on the anonymous KKS 145:

夏山に鳴くほととぎす心あらば物思ふ我に声な聞かせそ

O cuckoo that cries in the mountains: if you have a heart, do not let me in my sorrow hear your voice.

177

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

[Poet unknown]

独りゐて物思ふ我を郭公ここにしもなく心あるらし

hitori wi-te                 To me, alone here,
mono omohu ware wo           Me who sits here in worry,
hototogisu                   O summer cuckoo,
koko ni si mo naku           It seems that right here, as well
kokoro aru-rasi              You have the heart to cry out.

--

Commentators are split over whether the cuckoo is coming to comfort the poet, or coming to lament along with the poet.

This is another poem that is similar to the sentiment of KKS 145 (see above), as well as SIS 821:

しののめに鳴きこそわたれ時鳥物思ふ宿はしるくやあるらん

In the dawn, the cuckoo comes here crying. There apparently is an effect to me worrying here about love.

The poem seems to be a variant of MYS 8.1476:

独りゐて物思ふ宵にほととぎすこゆ鳴きわたる心しあるらし

On a night when I sit here worrying alone, the cuckoo coming to cry seems to have a heart.

It also occurs in the Yakamochi-shu with slightly different wording. The MYS poem is perhaps the basis for the two poems cited above.

Finally, the Katakana-bon manuscript of the GSS has the prose preface from poem 30, noting that most manuscripts lack the preface. It doesn't really fit with the current poem.

178

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

玉匣あけつるほどのほととぎすただふたこゑもなきてこしかな

tamakusige                The jeweled box opened
ake-turu hodo no          In the time the day has dawned, 
hototogisu                The summer cuckoo --
tada hutakowe mo          Its lid opens with two chirps,
naki-te-kosi kana         That it has come here to cry.

Jeweled box: This word simply introduces aku ("open"), which also means "the day dawns." Later the word huta plays on the "lid" of the box as well as the two cries of the cuckoo.

--

This poem seems to exist primarily for the wordplay. Norinaga had harsh criticism for it -- the conventional poetic trope is that a cuckoo has only one cry, and he thought it was unpleasant to use the "two" cries just for the wordplay. Nakayama (Shinsho) also found the poem lacking, and wondered if it had a love meaning -- a couple of manuscripts read kikade ("not hearing") instead of nakite ("crying"), which would mean the man leaves quickly. Kifune, while agreeing with the love meaning, took the poem as given to mean that it gets light in just the span of time of two cries. Katagiri also interpreted the cuckoo as a man who cries in various places.

Despite the prevalence of love poems in the GSS, I am tempted to agree with Kudo, who reads it as a comic poem. He notes that the final word could also be voiced as gana, which would mean "I wish it had come here to cry twice".

179

五月ばかりに物いふ女につかはしける

In the fifth month, sent to a woman he was seeing.

[Poet unknown]

かずならぬわが身山べの郭公このはがくれのこゑはきこゆや

kazu naranu                  I count as nothing
waga mi yamabe no            Living among the the mountains
hototogisu                   The summer cuckoo,
ko no ha-gakure no           Hidden among the tree leaves,
kowe ha kikoyu ya            Do you hear its voice cry out?

I count as nothing: There is a kakekotoba with waga mi (my self) and miyama (the mi is an honorific prefix).

--

This is a love poem, where the poet compares his low status (at least as a poetic conceit) with the small voice of the cuckoo hiding among the clouds. Since it's the 5th month she should be able to hear the cuckoo, but does she? Will she respond to his plaintive cry?

180

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

[Poet unknown]

とこ夏になきてもへなんほととぎすしげきみ山になに帰るらん

tokonatu ni                 All through the summer
naki-te mo he-nan           I wish you would spend time here
hototogisu                  And cry, cuckoo --
sigeki miyama ni            For what reason do you go
nani kaheru-ran             Back to the verdant mountains?

--

The sentiment here is similar to KKS 151:

いまさらに山へ帰るなほととぎす声のかぎりは我が宿になけ

Why are you going back to the mountains now, cuckoo? Cry in my garden until your voice gives out.

Kifune sees a stronger "humanity" in the GSS poem than in the KKS one. The poet wonders why the cuckoo is going back to the mountains where no one will hear it. The use of tokonatu, which means "all summer", may also suggest the similarly named flower that will be used in poems later in this volume.

This can also be a response to poet 179; the woman wishes that the man would stay here instead of visiting other women.

181

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

ふすからにまづぞわびしき郭公なきもはてぬにあくる夜なれば

husu kara ni                 I lay down to sleep
madu zo wabisiki             And right away I feel pained.
hototogisu                   Because the cuckoo
naki mo hate-nu ni           Does not finish its crying
akuru yo nare-ba             Before the night turns to dawn.

--

This poem is similar to KKS 156, by Tsurayuki:

夏の夜のふすかとすればほととぎすなくひと声に明くるしののめ

On summer nights I barely lay down when day dawns with a single cry from the cuckoo.

If we follow the previous poems in using the cuckoo as a symbol for a man, this can be another poem with a hidden love meaning. The woman wishes she could spend more time with the man.

182

三条左大臣、少将に侍りける時、しのびに通ふ所侍りけるを、上の男の子供五六人ばかり、五月の長雨少しやみて、月おぼろなりけるに、酒たうべむとてをしいりて侍りけるを、少将はかれがたにて侍らざりければ、たちやすらひて、あるじ出だせなどたはぶれ侍りければ

When the Sanjo Minister of the Left was a Minor Captain, there was a [woman's] place he visiting secretly. On a day in the 5th month when the long rains had let up slightly, and the moon was hidden behind clouds, five or six men from the palace thought that they would burst in on him and try to start a drinking party. But the Captain had not been visiting her for some time, and so the men lolled about outside, and then said in jest "bring out the lord!"

あるじの女

The lord's daughter

さみだれにながめくらせる月なればさやにも見えずくもかくれつつ

samidare ni                  I sit with worry
nagame kuraseru              Gazing out in the long rains
tuki nare-ba                 At the moon, and yet
saya ni mo mie-zu            I cannot see it clearly
kumogakure-tutu              Since it is hidden by clouds.

Sanjo Minister of the Left: Fujiwara no Sadakata. He was a Minor Captain from 897-906.

Bring out the lord!: They are perhaps calling for Sadakata himself, or perhaps for the woman's father.

The lord's daughter: In most texts of the GSS this appears as the author name, but a few texts have this as part of the prose preface: "..and then said in jest 'Bring out the lord!', and the Lord's daughter [read this poem]:" If this poem originally came from some collection of poem tales, it's possible that the alternate reading is the original one and that at some point "The lord's daughter" was interpreted as an author indication instead. In other imperial collections, and in most GSS poems, this would be an "author unknown" poem. One of Teika's manuscripts, and a few commentaries, identify this woman as the daughter of Ishinokami no Nanamitsu.

Long rains: The usual pun on nagame ("long rains" and "gaze with worry").

--

This is one of the best examples of the extended prose preface style of the GSS, showing a real life situation and a poem composed on the spot. The men have come to drink with Sadakata, but using the imagery of the current weather and season, the woman tells them that he doesn't come there anymore. The moon here is Sadakata. Kifune praises the poem's tone, elegance, and biting feeling.

A similar feeling is in SIS 783 (in the third love volume), which is a variation of a MYS poem:

三日月のさやかに見えず雲隠れ見まくぞほしきうたてこのごろ

I can't clearly see the moon of the third month, hidden by clouds, and I want to see it, but I feel depressed.

183

女子もて侍りける人に思ふ心侍りてつかはしける

He sent this to a person with a daughter, having a thought towards her

よみ人しらず

Poet unknown

ふた葉よりわがしめゆひしなでしこの花のさかりを人にをらすな

hutaba yori                 This pink that I have
waga simeyuhi-si            Roped off to mark it as mine,
nadesiko no                 From its younger days,
hana no sakari wo           Don't let another pluck it
hito ni wora-su na          In the fullness of its growth.

--

The feeling behind this poem is surprising to our modern sensibilities -- the pink (nadesiko, which also suggests "adorable child") is a metaphor for a girl. This man has "marked" her as his bride from a young age, but now apparently a rival has appeared. This is reminiscent of the Murasaki-Genji relationship in the Tale of Genji.

The pink does not occur in the KKS, but appears in scattered poems in later collections.

184

題しらず

Circumstance unknown

[Poet unknown]

葦引きの山郭公うちはへて誰かまさるとねをのみぞなく

asihiki no                      The summer cuckoo
yama hototogisu                 Living high in the mountains --
uti-hahe-te                     Over and over
tare ka masaru to               Calls out to the world, saying
ne wo nomi zo naku              "No one can surpass my cry!"

--

The surface meaning of this poem is the summer image of the loud cuckoo crying in the mountains. Many commentaries read either a love or sorrow meaning into the poem. The poet may be using the cuckoo as a metaphor for their own lamenting. Or, the unstated meaning may be "Who can surpass its cry? My sorrowful crying does." Or, the poet is crying out of sorrow and the cuckoo is trying to exceed the poet's cries. Katagari and Kudo take the meaning as a basic summer poem.

This poem also appears as KKS 150, with wori-hae-te as the third line. This word is of uncertain meaning and has been a subject of commentary since the earliest days of KKS criticism. Perhaps the GSS compilers either revised it to include a more normal word, or had an alternate version of the poem that they preferred.

185

五月、長雨のころ、久しく絶え侍りける女のもとにまかりたりければ、女

In the fifth month, during the long rains, [a man] came to visit a woman who he had not seem for some time, and the woman [wrote this in response]

[Poet unknown]

つれづれとながむるそらの郭公とふにつけてぞねはなかれける

turedure to                      During the long rains
nagamuru sora no                 I gaze listless at the sky
hototogisu                       At the visit of
tohu ni tukete zo                The summer cuckoo I cry
ne ha nakare-keru                With a voice to match the bird.

Long rains: The usual pun of nagame meaning "gaze" and "long rains".

--

This is another love poem, with the cuckoo used as the symbol of the man's infrequent visit, and her crying blending with the cries of the bird.

Most of the alternate texts, and one Teika text, have a different, longer prose preface. Here is the preface as given in the Futaarashi-bon manuscript: "In the fifth month, during the long rains, he went to visit a person, and as they were exchanging words she said 'Are you someone who has come visiting after forgetting me for a long time?' and he sent this poem in." The wording is a bit confusing but the poem seems to be the man's in this version.

186

題知らず

[Circumstance unknown]

[Poet unknown]

色かへぬ花橘に郭公ちよをならせるこゑきこゆなり

iro kae-nu             On the orange tree
hanatachibana ni       Which never changes color
hototogisu             I hear the cuckoo
tiyo wo narase-ru      Crying with a voice that would
kowe kikoyu nari       Live for a thousand long years.

--

This is a celebration poem; it appears in the Nakatsukasa collection as a screen painting poem. In that case the thousand years of the tree and cuckoo is a metaphor for the long life of whoever is being celebrated.

The orange tree (tatibana) is a summer image already in the KKS. It appears with the cuckoo in poems like the following, by Oe no Chisato:

やどりせし花橘もかれなくになどほととぎす声絶えぬらん

The orange tree the cuckoo lodged in still has leaves, so why is it crying without pause?

A similar poem to GSS 186 is found in the Kokin waka rokujo, by Tsurayuki:

常盤なる花と思へばや時鳥花橘に声の変はらぬ

Perhaps the cuckoo thinks the orange tree is an evergreen; that's why its voice doesn't change.

The Tale of Genji draws on this poem in the "Maboroshi" chapter, when Genji is looking at an orange tree during the summer rains, longing for Murasaki.

187

たびねしてつまごひすらし郭公神なび山にさよふけてなく

tabine si-te          It sleeps in the field
tumagohi su-rasi      Seeming to cry for its mate,
hototogisu            The cuckoo:
kamunabi-yama ni      On Kamunabi mountain
sayo fuke-te naku     It cries in the deepening night.

Kamunabi mountain: To the compilers this would have been Tatsuta mountain in Nara, but in the MYS period it may have been in Asuka instead.

--

This can be just a seasonal poem casting the cuckoo as a weary, homesick traveler. But it could also be composed by someone who is on a trip, putting his own desire for home on the cuckoo. The structure of the poem is a common one, where the natural fact (the last two lines) gives rise to an emotional guess (the first lines).

This poem appears as MYS 11.1938, although the first line is tabi ni si-te ("On a journey"). The Pseudo-Teika Kiribioke, noting that the MYS is not a good source for learning to write proper poetry, identifies this poem as an example of one that is reliable. Teika himself included it in his Shuka daitai. The Waka domosho highlighted the second line as unusual, probably an artifact of its MYS pedigree.

Finally, there is an interesting story about this poem found in Teika's diary. It had been included in the Shin kokinshu as poem 194, and also appeared in the preface as an example of a summer poem. But in 1206, Fujiwara no Ietaka noticed that it had appeared in the GSS. The compilers debated about what to do -- Teika felt that the preface should not be changed, but that it would be strange for 194 to be deleted and then retained in the preface. Finally, Retired Emperor Gotoba composed three new poems using GSS 187 as a honka, and the following was selected to replace it as SKKS 194:

おのが妻恋ひつつ鳴くや五月やみ神なび山のやまほととぎす

Is it crying for its own mate? The mountain cuckoo on Kamunabi mountain in the 5th month.

Kubota Jun praises this poem as a good example of Gotoba's poetic ability and faculty for mimicking the old style. But in its taigendome (ending with a noun) it fits in with the SKKS style.

188

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

夏の夜にこひしき人のかをとめば花橘ぞしるべなりける

natu no yo ni              On a summer night
kohisiki hito no           If I will seek out the scent
ka wo tome-ba              Of the one I love
hanatatibana zo            It is the orange blossom tree
sirube nari-keru           That will lead the way, I see.

--

The feeling of this poem is based on KKS 139:

五月まつ花橘の香をかげば昔の人の袖の香ぞする

If I smell the orange blossoms, waiting to bloom until the 5th month, I smell the sleeves of one I knew long ago.

It may simply be a poetic variation, but Kifune sees it as a comic poem that consciously changes the feeling of the original. Rather than simply a recollection brought on by the smell, here we have the man trying to seek out his lover and hoping the scent of the tree will show the way.

189

女の、物見にまかりいでたりけるに、異車かたはらに来たりけるに、物など言ひかはして後に、つかはしける

A woman was making a visit to sightsee, and a different carriage came up beside theirs, and they exchanged some conversation; afterwards, she sent this.

伊勢

Ise

郭公はつかなるねをききそめてあらぬもそれとおぼめかれつつ

hototogisu                    Since when I first heard
hatuka naru ne wo             The faint sound of its crying,
kiki-some-te                  The summer cuckoo;
ara-nu mo sore to             When I hear another's voice
obomeka-re-tutu               Confused I think that it's yours.

Visit to sightsee: Perhaps the Kamo Festival; a similar situation to poem 161 above.

--

Another example of a seasonal image being used in a poem actually composed in the moment. Kifune interprets this as women speaking to each other, and then Ise using the poem to invite her to chat more. Katagiri interprets it as a love poem instead, with Ise longing for the man. The version of the poem in the Ise collection reads odoroka-re-tutu for the last line ("I am surprised").

A love poem with a similar image is found as KKS 481, by Mitsune:

初雁のはつかに声をききしより中空にのみ物を思ふかな

Ever since I heard the faint voice of the early geese, my worries are only about the open sky.

190

五月二つ侍りけるに思ふ事侍りて

In a year where there were two fifth months, she was worried about something

読み人しらず

Poet unknown

さみだれのつづける年のながめには物思ひあへる我ぞわびしき

samidare no               In this year the rains
tudukeru tosi no          Of the fifth month continue
nagame ni ha              And I gaze sadly;
mono omohi-aheru          My worries fit the season
ware zo wabisiki          And I'm the one who suffers.

Two fifth months: An intercalary month.

Rains: As usual, nagame puns on "gaze out listlessly" and "long rains".

My worries: The meaning of mono omohi-aheru is somewhat uncertain, which may be why other texts have different readings -- omohi-someru (dyed with worry), omohi-taenu (worries don't end), and omohi-tumeru (worries piled on). The aheru reading seems to express the idea that the length and severity of the poet's worries match with the poetic conceit that the intercalary month means the fifth month rains are even longer than normal.

Suffers: Many texts read kanasiki (I am sad) instead.

--

This is a love or sorrow poem, probably by a woman. It appears in the Ise Collection and in the Kokin waka rokujo attributed to Ise. If she is the poet, this would have been written in 893, 912, or 931.

191

女にいとしのびてものいひて、帰りて

He chatted with a woman in great secrecy, and then returned [and wrote this]

[Poet unknown]

郭公ひとこゑにあくる夏の夜の暁がたやあふごなるらむ

hototogisu                   On nights of summer
hitokowe ni akuru            With just a single cry from
natu no yo no                The summer cuckoo
akatukigata ya               Dawn comes, and is it that dawn,
ahu go naru-ramu             That becomes our meeting time?

--

This is a love poem that draws on KKS 156 (see above). Apparently due to the need for secrecy, these lovers can't even meet most of the night. They get to spend so little of the night together that it seems like dawn is their only time.

A few alternate texts have a different prose preface, identifying the man as Ono no Yoshifuru, and the woman as the daughter of Prince Kanemi.

192

題知らず

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

うちはへてねをなきくらす空蝉のむなしきこひも我はするかな

uti-hae-te                 On without ceasing
ne wo naki-kurasu          The cicadas cry their cry,
utusemi no                 As the sun comes down:
munasiki kohi mo           An empty, fleeting longing,
ware ha suru kana          I feel it as I listen.

Cicadas: utusemi here is used as a pillow word for munasiki (empty), making the first three lines a poetic preface. But the preface here also serves to evoke the actual scenery.

--

The cicada was as ubiquitous in Japan then as it is now, but the KKS does not use it as a summer image. The word utusemi started out meaning "fleeting world" or "hollow existence", but came to also refer to the shell of a cicada. The KKS uses it in both these senses, mostly in the love and miscellaneous volumes. The GSS poem here uses the term to refer to the living insects, a fact that several old commentaries point out in defense of the word's use.

The GSS compilers likely placed this love poem here because it seems to evoke the poet sitting on a summer night, listening to the cicadas cry as the sun sets, and feeling the love and longing suggested by the poetry behind the utusemi word.

The structure of the poem is similar to KKS 592 by Mitsune:

たぎつ瀬に根ざしとどめぬ浮き草のうきたる恋も我はするかな

[Like] the floating weeds in a rushing stream that cannot find their roots, [so] I feel an unsettled love.

193

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

常もなき夏の草葉にをくつゆをいのちとたのむせみのはかなさ

tune mo naki             O the transience  
natu no kusaba ni        Of the cicada's short life,
woku tuyu wo             That entrusts itself
inoti to tanomu          To the fragile dew that lies
semi no hakanasa         On summer leaves and grasses.

The fragile dew: This is based on a notion that cicadas drink the dew on leaves. This idea goes back to Chinese poetry.

--

The usual association of cicadas is a short, fleeting existence. This poem combines it with the fleeting nature of the dew, which would be even more transient in the summer when the heat would clear away the dew very quickly. The poem uses the taigendome technique of ending with a noun -- the rest of the poem is a long modifier for the noun. Katagiri notes that in using "life", "dew", and "cicada", the poet weaves symbols of transience through the entire poem.

The Shinsen man'yoshu has a similar poem:

空蝉のわびしきものは草葉の露にかかれる身にこそありけれ

What is sad about the cicada is that it depends on the dew on the grasses for its life.

194

やへむぐらしげきやどには夏虫の声より外に問ふ人もなし

yahemugura                      To my own garden
sigeki yado ni ha               Overgrown with mugwort weeds
natumusi no                     Other than voices
kowe yori hoka ni               Of the insects of summer
tohu hito mo nasi               No person comes to visit.

--

The "insects of summer" are presumably cicadas, given the placement of this poem. The term can also refer to fireflies or moths, but neither of those insects have a "cry" or "voice" in poetry. Katagiri thinks the term was used to avoid the poetic associations of the other words for cicadas -- semi suggets transience and higurasi suggests the evening. But this poem is primarily about loneliness, or perhaps a specific man not visiting the poet.

This is perhaps based on KKS 205, an autumn poem:

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

To the dusk in a mountain village where cicadas cry, no person comes but the wind.

Here, the higurasi name for the cicadas connects with the yuhugure (evening) theme.

195

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

うつせみのこゑきくからに物ぞ思ふ我も空しき世にしすまへば

utusemi no                As soon as I heart
kowe kiku kara ni         The cry of the cicada
mono zo omohu             I start to worry.
ware mo munasiki          For I, too, am a dweller
yo ni si sumahe-ba        Of this impermanent world.

--

The last of the four anonymous cicada poems. The meaning is clear from the previous poems in the sequence, and uses the same associations. Katagiri notes that yo is sometimes used specifically of love affairs, and so this might have a love meaning similar to the previous poem.

196

人のもとにつかはしける

Sent to a person.

藤原師伊朝臣

Lord Fujiwara no Moromasa

如何にせむをぐらの山の郭公おぼつかなしとねをのみぞなく

ika ni se-mu                 Oh what shall I do!
wogura no yama no            On dark Ogura Mountain
hototogisu                   The summer cuckoo
obotukanasi to               Is crying out and saying
ne wo nomi zo naku           "I can't see to find my way!"

Ogura Mountain: A mountain in the Kyoto area; it was used in poetry to pun on 暗し (kurasi, "dark")

--

After the set of cicada poems, we are back to the cuckoo again. This is a love poem on the "unknown love" theme. Like the cuckoo who can't find its way in the dark, Moromasa can't find a way to make his love known to the woman. The opening line, standing alone, is a direct and forthright beginning.

SIS 124 is a similar poem, although this one was composed by Fujiwara no Sadakata on a screen painting and seems to have no hidden meaning. (Kurahashi Mountain has the same pun on kurasi as Ogura Mountain)

五月闇倉橋山のほととぎすおぼつかなくも鳴きわたるかな

In the fifth month darkness, on Mount Kurasahi, the cuckoo is crying here and there, in a vague voice.

The key difference here is that obotukanaku is an adverb showing how the crying sounds, whereas in the GSS poem obotukanasi appears to be what the cuckoo is actually saying.

197

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

読み人も

Also the poet

郭公暁がたのひとこゑはうき世の中をすぐすなりけり

hototogisu               The small single cry
akatukigata no           Of the cuckoo of summer
hitokowe ha              As dawn is breaking
ukiyo no naka wo         Makes me see that I'm passing
sugusu nari-keri         A night and world both hateful.

Night and word: Ukiyo no naka plays on "hateful night" and "hateful world" -- Kifune denies this wordplay but all other commentators accept it.

--

Another cuckoo poem. This can be read as a response to 196; the image is of the man leaving in the early morning on a short summer night. The term yo (world) was also used to suggest love affairs. The exact use of the imagery is conflicted, though -- the cry would seem to echo the cry of the poet, but the cuckoo is the man.

Both Kifune and Kudo see this as a haikai poem; often this means a comic poem, but perhaps also a poem that uses unusual vocabulary. It's not clear what is particularly haikai-like about this, however.

198

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

ひとしれずわがしめしののとこなつは花さきぬべき時ぞきにける

hito sire-zu                 Unbeknownst to all,  
waga simesi-no no            In a field I marked as mine,
tokonatu ha                  There is a small pink,
hana saki-nu-beki            And the time has finally come,
toki zo ki ni keru           When the pink should bloom at last.

--

This poem is similar to 183; the poem is a metaphor for a girl that the poet has marked as his since she was young. Now that she is grown, it's time for him to claim her as his own. Nadesiko and tokonatu are two names for the same flower; in 183 nadesiko was used to call up the image of a child, but here the toko in tokonatu suggests the marriage bed.

199

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

わがやどのかきねにうゑしなでしこは花にもさかなんよそへつつ見む

waga yado no                  The small pink flower
kakine ni uwe-si              Which I planted on the fence
nadesiko ha                   Of my own garden
hana ni mo saka-nan           I want to see it blossom,
yosohe-tutu mi-mu             And thinking of her, watch it.

--

Like 198 and 183, this seems to be about a girl that the poet knew as a child and wants her to grow up. On the other hand, here the metaphor seems to be made explicit -- perhaps we are to understand this as an "impossible love" poem, where the poet wants to have the flower to look at since the girl is beyond his reach.

This poem is very similar to MYS 8.1448, by Otomo no Yakamochi:

我がやどに蒔きしなでしこいつしかも花に咲きなむなそへつつ見む

The pink that I have sown in my garden; I wish it would bloom quickly! I want to think of her and look at it.

Perhaps GSS 199 is a rewriting or alternate transmission of this poem.

Genji alludes to this poem in the "Momiji no ga" chapter, in a letter to Fujitsubo. There, the "pink" is Emperor Reizei, the secret child of Genji and Fujitsubo.

200

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

常夏の花をだに見ばことなしにすぐす月日もみじかかりなん

tokonatu no                  If I only look
hana wo da ni mi-ba          At the little pink flower
kotonasi ni                  All these months and days
sugusu tukihi mo             Passed in useless idleness
mizikakari-nan               Are apparently quite short.

--

The poem seems to be read by a lonely woman, and Kudo says that the toko of tokonatu suggests the bed of lovers.

A similar poem was read by Tsurayki, in 929 at the 40th birthday of Prince Motoyoshi (SIS 1079):

常夏の花をし見ればうちはへて過ぐる月日の数も知られず

When I just look at the pink, I cannot count the months and days that have passed.

In this case the pink would seem to be the prince, with the toko suggesting a long life. The significance of the GSS poem is harder to grasp -- the compilers, based on their arrangement of the poems on the pink, seem to have read it as a love poem. But why, then, would the woman be comforted (if indeed she is) by looking at the pink?

One other possibility is to take a cue from the Tale of Genji and interpret the pink here as a child, perhaps the child of an affair that is no longer active.

201

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

常夏に思ひそめては人しれぬ心の程は色に見えなん

tokonatu ni                  Since I first took thought
omohi-somete ha              Of the pink, it keeps my thoughts
hito sire-nu                 And the hidden love
kokoro no hodo ha            That you don't know I will grow
iro ni mie-nan               Until you see the color.

pink: The toko of tokonatu suggests that the love will last forever.

first: somete puns on "first" and "dyed".

--

The poems on the pinks continue, with a love exchange. The image of flower dyeing is used paired with the common use of iro in love poetry to mean the love that will soon show itself to the world (or to you, the target of my love).

202

返し

Response

[Poet unknown]

色といへばこきもうすきもたのまれず山となでしこちる世なしやは

iro to ihe-ba               You speak of color,
koki mo usuki mo            But whether it's deep or pale
tanomare-zu                 I cannot trust it.
yamato nadesiko             This pink you compared me to,
tiru yo nasi ya ha          Does it really not scatter?

pink: The term yamato nadesiko here is the same flower as the tokonatu from the last poem.

--

The woman's response is biting -- the pink may have toko (eternal) in its name, but like all flowers it scatters. And in the same way, either her beauty will fade, or he will lose interest. So how can she trust his claims of love?

Fujiwara no Tameie noted that although this was a 証歌 (shoka), a poem that could be used as the basis for one's own poetry, it really was not acceptable in the current age. Comparing this with what is said in the Godai chokusen commentary, the problem seems to be with the last line. Evidently in Tameie's time it was unacceptable to use the idea that flowers don't scatter, even if it was being used as a non-existent situation. Tameie's conservative Nijo school of poetry was very concerned with what imagery was appropriate, wishing to avoid faults (yamai) in their composition.

Kifune says that the five pink poems (198-202) can be read as a single love story.

203

師尹朝臣のまだ童にて侍りける、常夏の花を折りてもちて侍りければ、その花につけて尚侍の方に送り侍りける

[Fujiwara no] Morotada, who was still a child, broke off a pink and brought it [to Masatada], and he sent the flower to the Mistress of Staff with [this poem] attached.

大政大臣

The Minister of State [Fujiwara no Moromasa]

なでしこはいづれともなくにほへどもをくれてさくはあはれなりけり

nadesiko ha               The young pink flowers       
idure tomo naku           They all with no exception
nihohe-do mo              Bloom beautifully, but
wokure-te saku ha         The flower that bloomed later
ahare nari-keri           Is the one I love the more.

Morotada: The son of Moromasa.

Still a child: Many manuscripts (even Teika ones) read 侍りける時 ("when he was still a child"). The base text's reading makes the entire initial phrase the subject of 折りて, a grammatical construction that occurs frequently in tales such as the Genji.

Mistress of Staff: The daughter of Moromasa, sixteen years older than Morotada. By this time she was already the mother of the Crown Prince.

--

As with the previous poems on the pink, they are a metaphor for children. Who are the children in question here? Most commenters say that the "late blooming flower" is Morotada, who is 16 years younger than the Mistress of Staff. Perhaps the aging Moromasa is asking his daughter to look after Morotada, especially given that she will soon be Empress. Another possibility suggested by Kudo is that the late-blooming flower is the Crown Prince, and Moromasa is expressing his love towards his grandson.

204

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

読み人も

The poet as well

なでしこの花ちり方になりにけりわが松秋ぞちかくなるらし

nadesiko no                    The large pink flowers
hana tiri-gata ni              As summer moves to its end
nari-ni-keri                   Have begun to fall.
waga matu aki zo               Autumn, which I have longed for,
tikaku naru-rasi               Must now be growing closer.

--

The pinks bloomed in 198 and are now beginning to fall. In contrast to the spring flowers, the poet shows no regret or sorrow at the falling flower; he is too focused on the coming of autumn. The Shinsho suggests a possible hidden meaning of waiting for autumn promotion announcements.

This poem is similar to MYS 1972:

野辺見ればなでしこの花咲きにけり我が待つ秋は近づくらしも

When I look at the fields I see the pinks are blooming. Autumn, which I have longed for, seems to be growing close.

It's not close enough to be an alternate transmission of the same poem, but perhaps the GSS poem was based on the MYS one.

205

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

夜ひながらひるにもあらなん夏なればまちくらすまのほどなかるべく

yohi nagara                  Though night, if only
hiru ni mo ara-nan           It could become the daytime.
natu nareba                  Since it is summer
mati-kurasu ma no            The time I would have to wait
hodo nakaru-beku             Would hardly be there at all.

--

The volume returns to short nights of summer. As Kiyosuke said in the Ogisho, this poem is somewhat hard to understand. The last three lines are clear, but exactly what the first two lines mean is not. KKS 166 by Fukayabu might be the basis for this poem. The preface for the poem is "On a night with a beautiful moon, he read this when it was dawning"

夏の夜はまだよひながらあけぬるを雲のいづこに月やどるらん

On a summer night it has dawned when it is still night, so where in the clouds is the moon lodging?

Even looking at this poem the meaning is not entirely clear. Kifune and Katagiri both say this is a woman's poem read to the departing man, and the feeling of wanting the day to be over so they can meet again is evident. Perhaps the idea is that the woman wants to skip the dawn of the KKS poem and move right to the midday. Some scholars think the poet means that she wishes the day were as short as the night.

206

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

夏の夜の月は程なくあけぬれば朝のまをぞかこちよせつる

natu no yo no                  On this summer night
tuki ha hodo naku              When the night has just begun
ake-nure-ba                    The moon calls the dawn,
asita no ma wo zo              Therefore I will now pretend
kakoti-yose-turu               That the dawn is still moonlight.

--

This poem, like 205, is difficult to understand. The main problem is the last two lines; kakotu can mean to make something a pretext, or to complain about something. Most commenters think that the poet, upset about the shortness of night, is going to pretend that the faint light of dawn is still the poetically appropriate moonlight. Katagiri's interpretation is that the poet will pretend that the moon, still visible in the dawn sky, is the actual night moon. Kifune sees the poet as blaming the moon for making the dawn come so quickly.

207

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

鵲の峯飛びこえてなきゆけば夏の夜渡る月ぞかくるる

kasasagi no                The magpie goes forth
mine tobi-koe-te           Flying across the mountain
naki-yuke-ba               Crying as it goes,
natu no yo wataru          Crossing the summer night, the moon
tuki zo kakururu           Is hidden behind the clouds.

--

This poem is a fairly direct evocation of the night scene, but there is a lot of commentary on possible additional meanings or associations. The kasasagi (magpie) is not a common bird in waka poetry, and when it does appear it's typically associated with the Tanabata story of the magpies building a bridge through the clouds so that the lovers can meet. But this is the wrong season for that. Another suggestion, first brought up by Tameie, is that the idea of the moon having a "magpie mirror" (sort of like the man on the moon) provides a poetic association.

But the real source seems to be Chinese poetry. The poem appears in the Shin'sen man'yoshu paired with the Chinese line 鵲鏡飛度峰無留 (Each time the magpie mirror flies, it does not stop on the peak). A very similar poem appears in the Chisato collection, on the Chinese line 鵲飛山月曙 (The magpie flying as the moon dawns on the peak):

鵲の峰飛び超えて鳴きゆけばみ山隠るる月かとぞ見る

The magpie goes forth flying across the mountain crying as it goes, and it looks like the moon hiding among the clouds.

Perhaps working off the Chisato collection poem, some commentators see the GSS poem as mitate with the moon looking like a flying magpie. Others take the two parts of the poem as separate images.

Perhaps all this confusion is why Norinaga criticizes the poem as poor. I think it is quite beautiful, using imagery that is not typical of waka and creating a picture of the night sky.

208

[Circumstance unknown] [Poet unknown]

秋ちかみ夏はてゆけば郭公なく声がたき心ちこそすれ

aki tika-mi                 Autumn is nearing,
natu hate-yuke-ba           Thus summer moves towards its end,
hototogisu                  So the cuckoo's voice
naku kowe gataki            Hardly seems to cry at all --
kokoti koso sure            That is the feeling I get.

--

Katagiri interprets the last line as "I get the feeling, but...[is that really true?]"

A similar poem is in MYS 8:1468

霍公鳥声聞く小野の秋風に萩咲きぬれや声の乏しき

In the fields where we could hear the crying cuckoo, the hagi has bloomed in the autumn wind, and the cries are few.

Kifune reads 205-208 as a series of love exchanges.

209

桂の御子の「蛍をとらへて」と言ひ侍りければ、童のかさみの袖につつみて

Princess Katsura said "Catch a firefly," and so a page girl wrapped one in the sleeves of her outer robe.

[Poet unknown]

つつめどもかくれぬ物は夏虫の身よりあまれる思ひなりけり

tutume-domo                     What may not be hid
kakure-nu mono ha               Though wrapped up tight and secure,
natumusi no                     Is the fire of love
mi yori amareru                 Overflowing the bodies
omohi nari-keri                 Of the summer fireflies.

Princess Katsura: Fushi, a daughter of Emperor Uda. She appears as an author in the collection (poem 529).

Fire of love: This is a common pun on omohi (thoughts), and the hi (fire) of love.

--

The firefly, though a common summer insect, is not often used in early Heian summer poetry. The KKS has two poems in the love section, and it is not until the Goshuishu that the insect reappears in the summer sections. Here, too, it is used as a love image.

Although the meaning of the poem itself is simple and clear, the circumstances of the composition are not. The Kansho editors felt this lowered the worth of the poem, but I am more sympathetic to Sato Komei's view that these sort of allusive, suggestive circumstances invited the readers to participate in the composition of their own poem tales to fill in the context.

My reading of the poem as given in the GSS is that the princess calls for a firefly. One of her page girls wraps one in her robe, and the light of the firefly shines through the thin outer robe. The page girl then composes this poem on the spot, as if it were a dai-ei (assigned topic). However, there are other possibilities. My reading takes the no in warawa no as a subject marker, but if it is taken as an appositive ("the page girl's robe") with an implied subject, this could be a male suitor responding to her call for a firefly with this poem. The futa-arashibon alternate text specifies that the page is a boy, which could make this a childish love poem directed to the Empress.

The poem appears in an entirely different context in Tales of Yamato section 40. There, Prince Atsuyoshi has been seeing Katsura, and a young girl who serves her falls in love with him. When he directs her to catch fireflies for him, she wraps them in her robe and reads the poem.

The poem was popular -- Shunzei included it in his Korai futeisho, Teika put it in his Kindai shuka collection of excellent poems, and it was praised by Kamo no Chomei. The pseudo-Teika Teika jittei used it as an example of a "yugen" (profound depths) poem.

Perhaps also speaking to its popularity are some of the poems that used it as a honka, such as Shin gosen wakashu 1286, also composed by someone giving a firefly:

恋しさの身よりあまれる思ひをば夜はの蛍によそへてもみよ

The thoughts of love that overflow my self, please see them in the fireflies at night.

Also Fugashu 80, by Tameie, which uses the honka in a more skillful way:

かすめどもかくれぬ物は梅のはなかぜにあまれる匂ひなりけり

What cannot be hidden though wrapped in mist is the scent overflowing the wind of the plum flowers.

210

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

[Poet unknown]

あまの河水まさるらし夏の夜は流るる月のよどむまもなし

amanogawa                 River of Heaven,
mizu masaru-rasi          It must be overflowing.
natu no yo ha             On nights of summer
nagaruru tuki no          The moon, traveling downstream,
yodomu ma mo nasi         Has no pools in which to pause.

River of Heaven: The Milky Way.

--

The conceit here is that the summer nights are short, and so the moon travels quickly through the sky. This is because the milky way is overflowing its banks and the water rushes on. Kifune calls this an "unusual mitate".

Perhaps this was inspired by KKS 882:

天の川雲のみおいてはやければ光とどめず月ぞながるる

The river of heaven is a waterway made of clouds, and so the moon floats downstream without the light stopping.

However there are also close analogues in the Shinsen Man'yoshu:

天の川秋の夜ばかり淀まなむ流るる月の影を止むべく

I wish that the heavenly river would stall at least in autumn. It could stop the moonlight from flowing on.

And especially in the Empress' Poetry Contest in the Kanpyo Era:

夏の夜は水まさればや天の川流るる月の影もとどめぬ

Maybe on summer nights the river overflows -- the moonlight floating in the river of heaven doesn't stop.

211

月ごろわづらふことありて、まかりありきもせで、まで来ぬよしいひて、文のおくに

For months he had been sick, and had not gone out anywhere, so he sent [Masatada] saying he wouldn't come, and wrote this in the letter.

つらゆき

[Ki no] Tsurayuki

花もちり郭公さへいぬるまで君にもゆかずなりにけるかな

hana mo tiri                 From when flowers fell
hototogisu sahe              To now when even cuckoos
i-nuru made                  Left and flew away
kimi ni mo yukazu            In all that time I have not
nari ni keru kana            Visited even your house.

--

This is a poetic exchange with Masatada; compare Tsurayuki and Masatada's poetic exchanges in Gosenshu_3#137. Perhaps it was composed in Tsurayuki's final days. The first two lines express the spring and the summer passing, and this is simply a letter of apology for not keeping in contact because of his illness.

212

返し

Response

藤原雅正

Fujiwara no Masatada

はな鳥の色をもねをもいたづらに物うかる身はすぐすのみなり

hanatori no                  The flowers and birds,
iro wo mo ne wo mo           Their beauty and their chirping,
itadura ni                   I cannot enjoy,
monoukaru mi ha              I pass the time uselessly
sugusu nomi nari             In lassitude and sorrow.

--

Masatada responds by noting that in Tsurayuki's absence, he wasn't able to enjoy the birds or flowers -- just like Tsurayuki is ill, he is consumed with sorrow. There was a large age difference between the two friends, and Masatada bridges the gap by linking his own sorrow to Tsurayuki's illness.

Some commentators think that the "Kiritsubo" chapter of the Tale of Genji draws from this poem. After Kiritsubo's death, the Emperor looks at a picture of Yang Guifei and thinks that Kiritsubo could not be compared to either birds or flowers. I find this allusion hard to accept, though. It's true that the text is close, but the Genji text is drawing on the "Song of Neverending Sorrow", where Yang Guifei's looks are compared to certain birds or flowers. Perhaps we can say that the author had this poem in her mind when writing the section, but I don't think it rises to the level of an actual poetic allusion. However, the exact first two lines of the poem do occur in several other chapters ("Usugumo", "Suzumushi", "Takekawa", and twice in "Sawarabi"), so the poem was clearly popular and in the forefront of the author's mind.

213

題知らず

Circumstance unknown

よみ人も

Also the poet

夏虫の身をたきすてて玉しあらば我とまねばむ人めもる身ぞ

natumusi no                   If the summer moths
mi wo taki-sute-te            Throw themselves into the flame
tama si ara-ba                But their soul survives,
ware to maneba-mu             I shall try to learn from them
hitome moru mi zo             Who is seen by others' eyes.

soul: The use of 玉 in the base text is just a kanji replacement for 魂. The し is an emphasis particle.

I shall: The use of the to particle here is not clear; Keichu and Norinaga both thought it was a mistake for mo, and most modern commentators translate it as ware mo without explanation.　WBKT has it as ware to meaning "from my own power."

--

This is a love poem. The meaning is that if the poet could be only a spirit, he could visit his lover without being seen by prying eyes. The idea of a love that must be hidden from others is a common one in the early books of KKS love poetry. The term natumusi (summer insects) has now been used of three different insects -- cicadas, fireflies, and now moths. The term in the KKS only occurs in the love volumes.

214

夏夜、月おもしろく侍りけるに

On a summer night, when the moon was beautiful

[Poet unknown]

今夜かくながむる袖のつゆけきは月の霜をや秋とみつらん

koyohi kaku                   This evening I sit
nagamuru sode no              Gazing, and my sleeves are wet
tuyukeki ha                   Dewy with my tears --
tuki no simo wo ya            I must have seen the moon's frost
aki to mi-tu-ran              And thought that it was autumn.

--

The third to last poem of the volume looks forward towards autumn. A common image of autumn is the dew, which is frequently associated poetically with tears. In this case a woman (most likely) sit gazing out in worry. The "Moon's frost" is the moonlight in the garden which looks like (autumn) frost to her -- thus, she blames her tears on her confusion about the season. Most alternate texts have a longer preface that specifies the person is worrying (presumably about love).

Apparently some older texts read tuki no kasa ("moon's umbrella") instead, which caused some commentators to mention it. Kiyosuke in the Ogisho seems to be the only one who tried to explain the meaning as the moon being obscured by clouds. After him, every commentators that mentions this alternate reading rejects it as wrong.

215

六月祓へしに河原にまかりいでて、月の赤きを見て

They went out to Kawara to do the 6th month purifications, and saw a red moon.

かも河のみなそこすみててる月をゆきて見むとや夏はらへする

kamogawa no                     At Kamo River
minasoko sumite                 The moon's reflection is clear
teru tuki wo                    On the river's depths,
yuki-te mi-mu to ya             Maybe that's why people come
natuharahe suru                 For the purification.

6th month purifications: Also called the natugosi no harahe, this is a long standing custom (still observed today) of ritual purification on the last day of the 6th month. Although both the historical evidence and the placement of this poem would suggest the last day of summer, many commentators both ancient and modern have asserted that this poem is actually read in the middle of the month, at a different purification that is not the major one. It's not clear to me what is wrong with this being on the last day of the month.

--

216

六月二つありける年

In a year when there were two sixth months

たなばたはあまのかはらをななかへりのちのみそかをみそぎにはせよ

tanabata ha                Orihime is
ama no kahara wo           In heaven at the river
nanakaheri                 Turning seven times,
noti no misoka wo          Wait for the end of next month
misogi ni ha se yo         For your purifications.

Two sixth months: An intercalary month, as in poem 190 above.

Orihime: The Tanabata legend; Orihime meets Hikoboshi once a year on the 7th day of the 7th month.

--

The final summer poem is not especially about the end of summer, but perhaps it was placed last since the extra sixth month would be after everything before, and also because the Tanabata theme leads into autumn.

The meaning of the "seven times" is not entirely clear, aside from the obvious connection between the number seven and the Tanabata festival. Either this means that Orihime is turning seven times from sadness because her meeting with Hikoboshi will be delayed a month (Tameie, Kifune) or this is a process of seven purifications that Orihime is doing (Shinsho, Katagiri). In either case, the listeners are admonished to wait until the end of the intercalary month to do their purifications.

There is an alternate interpretation offered by Yamanaka in the Shinsho -- Orihime stands sadly at the river, and the poet tells her to come back next month since 7/7 will not be until then. Poems addressed to Orihime or Hikoboshi, or in their voice, are relatively common in the imperial collections so this is an entirely plausible interpretation.

Variant Text poems

V4

The following poem appears in the Shirakawa fragments after poem 120, although the last line is half missing.

なつのよはかたらひながらあけぬるをくものいづくに月[やどるらむ]

natu no yo ha                On a summer night
katarahi-nagara              While we stayed up and chatted
ake-nuru wo                  It became morning,
kumo ni iduku ni             Where among the clouds above
tuki [yadoru-ramu]           Has the moon taken lodging?

This is a variant of KKS 166 by Fukayabu. The second line in the KKS is mada yohi nagara (while still night). The version given above feels more like a love poem, although the bottom part of the poem doesn't make as much sense.

V5

The Futa-arashibon text has a variant of GSS 1364 between 172 and 173, ascribed to the Teiji Poetry Contest rather than the Emperor himself. This would seem to be a simple mistake since the poem has no summer imagery.

V6

The next two poems occur at the end of the volume in the Horikawa, Futaarashi-bon, and Unshu-bon texts, followed by GSS 641.

紀友則がまからずなりにける女のもとに、大江千里がまかるを、それもまからずと聞きて

Oe no Chisato visited a woman that Ki no Tomonori had stopped visiting, and then he heard that Chisato had stopped visiting too

紀友則

Ki no Tomonori

やどりせしはなたちばなもかれなくになどほととぎすこゑたえぬらん

yadori se-si                  The orange blossom tree
hanatatibana mo               That it once had nested in
kare-naku ni                  Has not yet withered,
nado hototogisu               So why has the cuckoo's voice
kowe tae-nu-ran               Seemingly ceased to cry out?

--

This is KKS 155, although there it is listed as a poem by Oe no Chisato at the Kanpyo Empress' Poetry Contest. The poem is not found in current texts of the poetry contest. In the KKS this would be read as a purely seasonal poem, whereas here the "orange blossom tree" is the woman's house, and the cuckoo is Chisato.

V7

返し

Response

大江千里

Oe no Chisato

ふゆごもりふかきみやまにすむときぞねにこそなかねやどはわすれず

huyugomori                  At times when I live
hukaki miyama ni            In the depths of the mountains
sumu toki zo                Shut up in winter,
ne ni koso naka-ne          I do not cry out, and yet,
yado ha wasure-zu           I do not forget the house.

--

Chisato's response says that he has not given up on the woman yet -- perhaps warning Tomonori to stay away? Presumably this exchange is an invented poetic tale based on V3/KKS 155. The fact that they appear out of place at the end of the summer volume suggests that even in those texts there was some uncertainty about the poem. Perhaps the original compilers were doubtful about the inclusion of the poem and placed it at the end of the volume in a draft.

Gosenshu 4

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Variant Text poems

V4

V5

V6

V7

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