Gosenshu 7

Gosen wakashu Volume 7: Autumn 3 後撰和歌集巻第七　秋下

351

題知らず

Topic unknown

よみ人も

The poet as well

ふぢ袴きる人なみや立ちながらしぐれの雨にぬらしそめつる

hudibakama　　　　　　　　　Fujibakama
kiru hito nami ya        Perhaps since no one wears it
tati-nagara              It stands sewn, ready
sigure no ame ni         In the rains of late autumn
nurasi-some-turu         Starting to get drenched and stained.

Fujibakama

Eupatorium japonicum. The origin of this flower's name is not certain, but the hakama suggests the word for trousers, thus furnishing the wordplay in many poems dealing with it.

Stands sewn

Play on tatu (standing, and cut cloth)

Drenched and stained

Play on some (beginning to, and dyeing something). The dyeing also suggests the autumn leaves.

--

Fujibakama occur in three KKS autumn poems and just this one GSS poem; the image does not reoccur again until the Kin'yoshu. This is a simple play on the name of the flower, but the extended wordplay and the image of the flowers standing out ready to be worn furnish a kind of comic charm. The three KKS poems (239-241) portray the flower as a cast off, discarded, or forgotten pair of trousers. This poem presents the opposite situation; a finished pair set out and ready to be worn, but no one to use it.

352

秋風にあひとしあへば花すすきいづれともなくほにぞいでける

akikaze ni                In the autumn wind
ahi to si ahe-ba          That blows forth and meets them all
hanasusuki                The susuki plants
idure to mo naku          Every one, no exception,
ho ni zo ide-keru         Their stalks appear and come forth.

--

The susuki return from the first autumn volume. Kifune reads this as a light, comic poem -- the personified plants are meeting the autumn wind (a man) and their love comes forth. Kudo and Katagiri, probably working off the usual negative meaning of autumn wind, read it in a different way. The imagery is hard to interpret, but Katagiri uses a KKS poem to suggest that it is lamenting and sorrow that is coming forth when the wind of aki meets them. Kifune's reading would fit better with the light, comic nature of 351. But the sadder love meaning is a better link to the next poem. Perhaps both are possible?

353

寛平御時后の家の歌合に

At the Empress' Poetry Competition in the Kampyo Era

在原棟梁

Ariwara no Muneyana

花すすきそよともすれば秋風のふくかとぞきくひとりぬるよは

hanasusuki                When the pampas grass
soyo to mo sure-ba        Softly rustles in the night
akikaze no                The wind of autumn
huku ka to zo kiku        Is blowing, or so it sounds,
hitoru nuru yo ha         When I am sleeping alone.

--

This can be a general poem about the sadness of autumn, and how even the softest rustling noise outside can make you feel the autumn wind. It could also be a woman waiting for a man who has abandoned her, feeling the wind of aki in the rustling of the grass. The version in the poetry contest and the Shinsen man'yoshu reads koromo naki mi ha (for my self without clothing) in the last line.

354

題知らず

Topic unknown

よみ人も

Also the poet

はなすすきほにいでやすき草なれば身にならむとはたのまれなくに

hanasusuki               The pampas grasses
ho ni ide-yasuki         Reveal their stalks easily
kusa nare-ba             And though I know that
mi ni nara-mu to ha      Waiting for a fruit to come
tanoma-re-naku ni        Is not something I can trust...

--

The poem trails off in the end, suggesting a conclusion. Opinions have differed on the meaning. One reading is that this person I love shows his or her feelings too easily, and I can't count on them being faithful in the end -- yet I still love them. Another reading is that it specifically focuses on a hidden love; that when someone reveals that love to you, you probably can't count on it (but you do it anyway). Nakayama was the only one to take the position that this was not about love, but the association of ho ni idu with revealing one's feelings is strong in Heian poetry.