Gosenshu 7
Gosen wakashu Volume 7: Autumn 3 後撰和歌集巻第七 秋下
351
題知らず
Circumstance 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
Circumstance 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.
355
秋風にさそはれわたる雁がねは雲ゐはるかにけふぞきこゆる
akikaze ni Invited here by sasoha-re wataru The autumn wind, the voice of kari ga ne ha Geese crossing the sky: kumowi haruka ni Far away beyond the clouds kehu zo kikoyuru Today is when I hear it.
--
Geese appear in a few spring poems as they leave for the season, but they are a much greater presence in autumn poetry both in the KKS and GSS. The idea of the geese being invited back by autumn wind is found in the KKS and goes back to Chinese poetry.
356
越の方に思ふ人侍りける時に
When there was someone he thought about in Koshi
つらゆき
Tsurayuki
秋のよに雁かもなきてわたるなりわが思ふ人の事づてやせし
aki no yo ni On this autumn night kari ka mo naki-te The cry perhaps of a geese wataru nari Passing by I hear. waga omohu hito no Surely the one I think of kotodute ya se-si Did not send me a message.
- Koshi
- An ancient province that was later divided into Echizen, Etchū, and Echigo.
- Perhaps of a geese
- The three modern editions all agree that the kamo in karikamo is "maybe", and Katagiri says this occurs in the MYS as well. Previous commentators had a difficult time with this, taking it as a mistake for karigane (geese), as kamo being a general name for any water bird, or as a sentence-ending exclamation. Only Sogi, the earliest commentator on this poem, agrees with the modern scholars.
--
The idea of the goose sending a message may be based on a Chinese legend of Sū Wǔ sending a message by a goose, but the idea may have passed into common understanding by this time. Tsurayuki hears the goose coming from the direction of Koshi and wonders if his love has sent a message.
357
題知らず
Circumstance unknown
あき風に霧とびわけてくるかりの千世にかはらぬ声きこゆなり
akikaze ni On the autumn wind kiri tobi-wake-te Flying through the misty sky kuru kari no The geese coming back tiyo ni kahara-nu A thousand ages unchanged kowe kikoyu nari Their voice can be heard below.
- Geese
- The word kari also suggests "temporary", which is then contradicted by the tiyo (thousand ages) in the next line.
--
The meaning of the poem is fairly direct, but both Nakayama and Kifune suggested it might be a celebratory screen painting. The "thousand ages" is common in poems praising an Emperor or other high-ranking person. Nakayama suggests the entry into palace service of a Consort. But this poem is not found in the Tsurayuki Collection so we have no more information about its context.
358
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
物思ふと月ひのゆくもしらざりつかりこそなきて秋とつげつれ
mono omohu to Absorbed in worry tukihi no yuku mo Even the passage of days sira-zari-tu I did not realize. kari koso naki-te It was the cry of the geese aki to tuge-ture That told me autumn was here.
--
This might seem like a "beginning of autumn" poem but the idea is that this person's worry has been so great that they didn't realize it was autumn until late in the season when the geese arrived. If the worry is love worries, this could be a woman waiting for a man to visit, and she hears the cry of the geese telling her that aki (autumn, and the man's abandonment) has come.
359
大和にまかりけるついでに
While going down to Yamato
かりがねのなきつるなへに唐衣たつたの山はもみぢしにけり
karigane no As soon as the geese naki-turu nahe ni Cry on their return, just then, karakoromo The Chinese clothing tatuta no yama ha Tatsuta mountain is filled momidi si-ni-keri With the colored autumn leaves.
- Chinese clothing
- karakoromo is a pillow word for Mt. Tatsuta because tatu means "cut [cloth]". It's possible that there's also a link between the colored robes and the autumn leaves.
--
The poems continue to hint at the autumn leaves, while holding off the major block of poems until later in this volume. This poem also appears in the Man'yoshu, the Hitomaro Collection, and the Yakamochi Collection with textual variations in each. This seems to be a poem that was rewritten or transmitted differently several times, but the prose preface is unique to the GSS.
360
題知らず
Circumstance unknown
秋風にさそはれ渡るかりがねは物思ふ人のやどをよかなん
akikaze ni Invited back by sasoha-re wataru The autumn wind, the geese that karigane ha Cross high in the sky, mono omohu hito no I would have you stay away yado wo yoka-nan From the house of one in worry.
--
The cry of geese is sometimes said to bring worry because it reminds the hearer of autumn. So the poet wishes that the geese would avoid his house. The feeling is similar to 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.
This poem was included by Teika in the Kindai shuka and Eiga no taigai selections of poetry.
361
誰きけと鳴く雁金ぞわがやどのを花が末を過ぎがてにして
tare kike to Who do you cry to naku karigane zo Telling them to listen, goose? waga yado no It seems hard for you wobana ga suwe wo To avoid the pampas tips sugi-gate ni site In the garden of my house.
--
If we read this as a continuation of the previous poem, the geese, invited by the swaying pampas grass in the wind, are crying out to the poet to listen. But he is sunk down in worry and does not want to hear. The idea of the pampas grass inviting people occurs in other GSS and KSS poems, but the pairing of pampas grass and geese is new to the GSS. Kudo likens it to a screen painting with pampas at the bottom and geese flying overhead at the top.
362
往き還りここもかしこも旅なれやくる秋ごとにかりかりとなく
yuki kaeri Coming and going koko mo kasiko mo Flying here and flying there tabi nare ya Always traveling, kuru aki goto ni Perhaps that's why every fall karikari to naku The geese cry "kari! kari!"
- kari! kari!
- In the MYS the idea already appeared that the kari (goose) was named after its cry, which sounded like kari. This also plays on kari "temporary".
--
This is a comic haikai style poem -- the geese cry "kari" because they never stay in one place for too long. The idea of the geese crying "kari" is found in the MYS but in Heian court poetry only in the GSS. Katagari highlights this as an expression of the more casual style of the GSS.
This poem and the next two form a small block on this idea of the geese's cry being "kari!"0
363
秋ごとにくれどかへればたのまぬを声にたてつつかりとのみなく
akigoto ni In every autumn kure-do kahere-ba They come but then soon depart tanoma-nu wo So we can't trust them, kowe ni ta-te-tutu Then why do they raise their voice kari to nomi naku Over and over, "kari!"
--
"We already don't trust you to stay, you don't need to go out of your way to cry 'I'm only here temporarily!'" Like the last poem, this is a comic one playing on the sound of the geese's cry. Kifune notes the undercurrent of the aki pun hinting at a love meaning with a man coming and going, although this is likely just an additional comic effect.
364
ひたすらにわがおもはなくにおのれさへかりかりとのみなきわたるらん
hitasura ni Already I don't waga omoha-naku ni Think of you that earnestly -- onore sahe You do not have to karikari to nomi Fly here and there crying out naki-wataru-ran Nothing but "kari! kari!"
--
This poem is very similar in feeling to the previous one, completing the small group of three poems. Kigin and Norinaga read the poem as referring to the impermanence of the world. They may have felt that the poem's meaning was too much in the haikai style otherwise. But Nakayama and all the modern commenters disagree.
A very similar poem attributed to Tsurayuki appears in the Kokin waka rokujo:
- ひたすらに我がきかなくに雲わけてかりぞかりぞと告げわたるらん
- I'm not really listening that intently, but they fly out of the clouds crying "Kari zo kari zo!" all over the place.
365
人の「雁は来にけり」と申すを聞きて
He heard someone say "The geese have come."
みつね
Mitsune
年ごとに雲地まどはぬかりがねは心づからや秋をしるらん
tosi-goto ni Each and every year kumodi madoha-nu They are not lost in the cloud road, karigane ha The flying geese: kokorodukara ya From their own hearts they must know aki wo siru-ran That autumn has now arrived.
- They are not lost
- Kifune emends the text to madoha-zu kuru kane ha, the reading of many alternate manuscripts and the Kokin waka rokujo. His reasoning is that the base text's version doesn't match the prose preface.
--
This is a simple and direct poem; the preface indicates it was composed on the spot in response to what a person said. Perhaps it was an especially cloudy day and the geese appeared out of the clouds.
366
大和にまかりける時、かれこれともにて
When he was going down to Yamato, there were various people with him
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
天河かりぞとわたるさほ山のこずゑはむべも色づきにけり
ama no gaha In heaven's river kari zo to wataru They geese cry and cross the gate sahoyama no Oh, now I see why kozuwe ha mube mo Branches on Saho Mountain iroduki-ni-keri Are tinged with autumn color.
- Heaven's river
- While this is the sky, it may also suggest a place in Yamato called ten no kawa.
- Saho Mountain
- A place in Yamato, known for its autumn leaves.
--
Kifune seems to be the only commenter who offers a reading that incorporates the prose preface. The poet is in a group of people crossing this river on or around Saho mountain. He uses this poem to compare them to geese crossing through the sky. He was hoping to see autumn leaves in this mountain, where they are famous, and so he notes the color on the branches. The GSS continues to hint at autumn leaves, the major block of which will appear soon.
KKS 267 provides a poetic precedent for Saho Mountain's leaves turning red late in the autumn.
367
兼輔朝臣、左近少将に侍りける時、武蔵の御馬迎へにまかりたつ日、にはかに障ることありて、代わりに、同じ司の少将にて迎へにまかりて、逢坂より随身を帰して、いひ送り侍りける
When Lord Kanesuke was a Left Minor Captain, on the day he was supposed to go to Musashi to receive the horses, something unexpectedly came up, and in his place, another Minor Counselor of the same office went, and from Osaka he sent back a retainer with this poem.
藤原忠房朝臣
Lord Fujiwara no Tadafusa
秋きりのたちのの駒をひく時は心にのりて君ぞこひしき
akikiri no Autumn mist shrouded tatino no koma wo Tachi field's horse I received hiku toki ha And when I took it, kokoro ni nori-te Riding atop my spirit kimi zo kohisiki Was longing for your presence.
- Receive the horses
- This took place on the 15th day of the 8th month, when various provinces would send horses to the Emperor. Someone would go to the Osaka barrier to formally receive them.
--
This is another example of the GSS including an occasional poem written on a yearly function of the type that does not appear in KKS poetry. Tadafusa sent this poem along with acknowledgment that the horses had been received. The poem uses seasonal imagery as well as the image of "riding" used for connection to the horse as well as his thoughts for Kanesuke. The dates of Kanesuke's career are hard to pin down, but this poem would have been read sometime between 913 and 916.
368
題知らず
Circumstance unknown
在原元方
Ariwara no Motokata
いその神ふるのの草も秋は猶色ことにこそあらたまりけれ
iso no kami Iso no Kami huruno no kusa mo Even old Furu Field grass aki ha naho In autumn, indeed iro koto ni koso Especially the color aratamari-kere Changes itself as if new.
- Iso no Kami
- iso no kami is usually a pillow word for huru (old). Here it leads into "Furu Field", perhaps because both Iso no Kami and Furu Field are in Yamato province. The name of the field suggests "old".
--
The poems continue to move towards autumn leaves, though still away from the capital. The main poetic device here is the opposition of huru (old) in the name of Furu Field, and arata (new) embedded in the verb aratamaru (become like new).
369
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
秋の野の錦のごとも見ゆるかな色なきつゆはそめじと思ふに
aki no no no The fields of autumn nisiki no goto mo Like a brocade of fabric miyuru kana Appear to our eyes! iro naki tuyu ha Though the dew has no color some-ji to omohu ni So it couldn't dye the leaves...
--
See GSS 310 in the previous volume. The idea that the dew is what causes autumn leaves to change colors was commonplace. The poem recalls KKS 257:
- 白露の色はひとつをいかにして秋の木の葉をちぢに染むらん
- White dew has but one color, so how does it stain the leaves of the autumn trees with many hues?
But the dew here is not white, it's completely colorless.
The use of nisiki (brocade) as a symbol of autumn leaves is found in the KKS and goes back to Chinese poetry.
370
あきののにいかなるつゆのおきつめばちぢの草葉の色かはるらん
aki no no ni In the autumn fields ika naru tuyu no What kind of dew can it be oki-tume-ba When it piles up tidi no kusaba no All the various grasses iro kaharu-ran Seem to change many colors?
--
This poem is a companion to 369, addressing the same idea.
371
いづれをかわきてしのばむ秋ののにうつろはむとて色かはる草
idure wo ka Which of them should I waki-te sinoba-mu Single out to long for aki no no ni In the autumn field uturoha-mu to te In order to fade away iro kaharu kusa The grasses change their color.
--
The standard way to read this is that all the grasses of the field are changing color and will soon scatter their leaves and die. They're all pitiful, but how can I choose one to single out and long for? Nakayama is the lone dissenter. He reads uturohu with its secondary love meaning of "turn to another lover". The grasses are portrayed as flighty women who change their color just to change their hearts. They're beautiful, but not reliable. So should the poet go after them, or should they go after the more reliable grasses that are less beautiful? This interpretation seems less likely to me.
372
声たててなきぞしぬべき秋きりに友まどはせるしかにはあらねど
kowe tate-te Raising up my voice naki zo si-nu-beki It seems as if I will cry. akikiri ni Though it's not as if tomo mado-hase-ru I'm a deer, seeking its friend, sika ni ha arane-do Lost in the mist of autumn.
--
Deer appear in a block of poems in the KKS, but for some reason GSS uses them only in 298, 372, 373 and a couple of poems in the non-seasonal books. The stereotypical image is of the deer crying for its mate. In this case tomo would suggest a friend rather than a mate. Kifune reads it as a love poem, but Kigin analyzes it as general autumn sorrow. Katagiri simply translates tomo as "friend." Nakayama keeps the option of a friend or lover open, perhaps doubtful about whether tomo can actually be used to refer to a lover.
373
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
誰きけと声高砂にさをしかのながながし夜をひとりなくらん
tare kike to Who do you call to kowe takasago ni Raising your voice in the mountains sawosika no You forlorn deer naganagasi yo wo It seems that through the long night hitori naku-ran You and I both cry alone.
- Raising your voice
- kowe takasago is a pivot construction on kowe takasi (loud voice) and takasago (here acting as a common noun meaning "mountain").
--
The last two lines of this poem are perhaps derived from the famous poem attributed to Hitomaro, SIS 778:
- あしひきの山鳥の尾のしだり尾のながながし夜をひとりかも寝む
- I will sleep the long night, like the long drooping tail of the mountain bird.
The first line recalls GSS 361 above.
374
打ちはへて影とぞたのむ峯の松色どる秋の風にうつるな
utihahete For a long time now kage to zo tanomu I have relied on your shade mine no matu O pine on the peak, irodoru aki no Do not fade in autumn winds kaze ni uturu na That give color to the leaves.
--
The surface meaning here is that the evergreen pine is still buffeted by the winds of autumn, which the poet is portraying as causing the leaves to change color. The poet is begging the tree to preserve its cooling shade even in the wind.
Since kage can also mean "favor" or "protection", most commenters think there is a secondary meaning here, although without a prose preface it's hard to pin down. It might be directed to a lord or patron to thank them for their favor and beg for their continued patronage. Or, it might be a love poem, with a woman trusting in the man and asking him not to shift his attention to other women. Kifune offers another alternative, that if mine is read as a pun on "not see," the man has not seen the woman yet.
375
はつしぐれふれば山べぞおもほゆるいづれの方のまづもみづらん
hatu sigure The first late year rain hure-ba yamabe zo When it falls I come to think omohoyuru Of the mountain ridge. idure no kata no From which place does it begin madu momidu-ran The first leaves changing color.
- Late year rain
- sigure, which is either a late autumn or early winter rain.
--
The seasonal sigure rain falls in late autumn or early winter; in the KKS and GSS it appears in a few autumn poems but mostly in winter. Both the MYS and KKS have examples of the idea that these rains cause the leaves to change color.
The poem reappears as the first poem of the Winter volume; see there for comments on the duplication.
376
いもがひもとくとむすぶとたつた山今ぞ紅葉の錦おりける
imo ga himo My lover's robe cord toku to musubu to Tied to release I set off tatutayama On Mount Tatsuya ima zo momidi no Now the colored autumn leaves nisiki ori-keru Have been woven as brocade.
- I set off / on Mount Tatsuya
- This is a pivot construction with tatu (set out) and tatutayama (Mount Tatsuya), and also tatu (cut cloth).
--
This poem is difficult to represent in English translation. The first two lines appear to be a poetic preface with no connection to the autumn imagery. The technique of the poem comes from the many engo (related words) in the first two lines surrounding cloth, and then the engo in the second part connecting to nisiki (brocade). There is a theme of cloth through the whole poem, but while the autumn image is clear and pedestrian, the interest of the poem seems to be in the wordplay.
A very similar poem appears in the MYS (10.2211), with the last line hazime-te ari-kere (The autumn leaves have begun). It appears in the Hitomaro Collection and the Yakamochi Collection, and several non-Teika manuscripts attribute the poem to Fukayabu.
377
雁なきて寒き朝の露ならし龍田の山をもみだすものは
kari naki-te The geese are crying samuki asita no In the cold of the morning tuyu narasi It seems there is dew tatuta no yama wo Thus on Tatsuta Mountain momidasu mono ha The leaves are starting to change.
--
The dew is perhaps the tears of geese (Kudo), which is an image found in the KKS. Dew is one of several things that poetically cause leaves to change. Kigin seems to read the geese as just a part of a scene being evoked (perhaps like a screen painting) and not part of the leaves changing.
378
見るごとに秋にもなるかなたつたひめもみぢそむとや山もきるらん
miru goto ni Each time I see it aki ni mo naru kana It shows that autumn has come! tatuta hime Princess Tatsuya momidi somu to ya Perhaps so to dye the leaves yama mo kiru-ran Mist falls over the mountains.
--
Princess Tatsuta appeared in one earlier GSS poem (265) and in one KKS poem; she is a goddess that is said to control autumn. The exact meaning is difficult to pin down; there is perhaps a play with kiru on "mist" and "wear". Some commenters have the mountains wearing a brocade of autumn leaves woven by Tatsuta, others a robe of mist. The problem is that kiru meaning "mist" is an intransitive verb, so the grammatical relationship of line 5 to lines 3-4 is unclear. The modern commenters all translate to ya as no de (because), but I cannot find this meaning in any reference work I consulted.
379
源宗于朝臣
Minamoto no Muneyuki
梓弓いるさの山は秋きりのあたるごとにや色まさるらん
adusayumi The catalpa bow irusa no yama ha Shooting at Mount Irusa akikiri no Wherever the mist ataru goto ni ya Hits and settles down, perhaps iro masaru-ran The leaves' color then deepens.
- Catalpa bow
- This is a pillow word for irusa and also links to the ataru (hit) later in the poem.
--
The meaning is once again the mist causing the autumn leaves to turn color. The use of ataru in the fourth line has caused some concern; clearly it's being used as engo (poetic assocation) with the bow from the first line, since it means "to hit [a target]". What it means with mist is harder to say. Kifune calls it a fruitless attempt at a wordplay. Other commenters wonder whether it might mean atari (area), although the goto ni (each time/each place) would not work well with that.
380
はらからどち、いかなることか侍りけん
What happened between the siblings?
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
君と我いもせの山も秋くれば色かはりぬる物にぞありける
kimi to ware You and I, siblings, imose no yama mo To Imose Mountain, too, aki kure-ba Autumn has come, so iro kahari-nuru It has now become something mono ni zo ari-keru Where the color has shifted.
- Imose Mountain
- imose means "brother and sister." The mountain is in Kii province.
--
This prose preface is unusual even by the standards of GSS. The poem is included in the Muneyuki Collection (probably a mistake based on poem 379's attribution); there the preface is "Written at a time when they were angry at their sibling about something." GSS 1214 also uses Mount Imose and has a prose preface "Something happened between the siblings, things don't appear normal." Kifune thinks the obscurity of the prose preface was intentional.
The situation here seems to be that one sibling loved the other, and now another person has come between them, so that aki is the usual pun and the changing color image means the changing feeling. These siblings could be half or full siblings; love poetry between siblings is found elsewhere in Heian poetry, and fiction such as the Genji includes instances where there is at least a one-sided attraction to a sibling. The potential taboo of such an attraction or relationship may explain the style of the preface.
381
題知らず
Circumstance unknown
元方
Motokata
おそくとく色づく山のもみぢばはおくれさきだつつゆやおくらん
osoku toku Some early, some late, iroduku yama no The colored leaves of the mountain momidiba ha Because, perhaps, okure-saki-datu The dew lays itself on top tuyu ya oku-ran Remaining or vanishing.
--
This is a typical elegant public style poem with the scene and the "logic" that results in the scene. Here, the fact that not all leaves change at the same time (or into the same color) is explained by how long the dew stays on the leaves.
The expression in the fourth line may come from this poem by Bishop Henjo:
- 末の露もとの雫や世の中のおくれさきだつためしなるらん
- The dew on the ends and the drops on the roots; this may be an example of the way people die early or late.
382
龍田山を越ゆとて
When crossing Tatsuta Mountain
とものり
Tomonori
かくばかりもみづる色のこければや錦たつたの山といふらむ
kaku bakari The coloring of momiduru iro no The autumn leaves is so deep kokere-ba ya Perhaps that is why nisiki tatuta no This mountain was given the name yama to ihu-ramu Brocade making Tatsuta.
--
This poem uses the same wordplay as previous ones, although here the emphasis of the word tatu is on making the clothing rather than just the "cutting" part. In contrast to the last poem, this takes the deep color as the base and explains the name of the mountain from there. 385 and 398 have similar ideas.
383
題知らず
Circumstance unknown
よみ人も
Also the poet
唐衣たつたの山のもみぢばは物思ふ人のたもとなりけり
karakoromo Robed in Chinese cloth tatuta no yama no On Tatsuta Mountain momidiba ha The leaves of scarlet mono omohu hito no For the one sunk in worry tamoto nari-keri They are the sleeves soaked with tears.
- Robed in Chinese cloth
- A pillow word for Mount Tatsuta because of tatu (cut cloth).
--
The idea of crying "scarlet" tears is a poetic conceit that once you cry so much that you run out of tears, you begin to cry blood. This is presumably a poem of worry over love.
There is a similar poem by Mitsune on the death of his mother, KKS 840:
- 神無月時雨に濡るる紅葉ばはただわび人の袂なりけり
- The scarlet leaves drenched by the 9th month rains are nothing but the sleeves of the one who mourns.
384
守山を越ゆとて
On crossing Mount Moru
つらゆき
Tsurayuki
葦引きの山の山もりもる山も紅葉せさする秋はきにけり
asibiki no On Protect Mountain yama no yama mori Guarded by a protector moru yama mo Even here it comes momidi se-sa-seru The season of autumn aki ha ki-ni-keri Which colors the leaves scarlet.
--
As Kudo explains, this is a comic poem. The idea is humorous (that the mountain guard can't guard against the coming season). The repetition of yama and moru as well as the multiple m and s sounds in sequence create a comic effect, and the final line is one of the most stereotypical, standard lines in Heian poetry.
Mount Moru seems to have been a favorite of Tsurayuki's, showing up in several of his poems, including KKS 260, which perhaps was composed at the same time as this.
- 白露も時雨もいたくもる山は下葉のこらず色づきにけり
- Both white dew and winter rain have soaked Moru Mountain so that even the bottom of the leaves has turned colors.
Here the play is on moru (seep in) rather than moru (protect).
385
題知らず
Circumstance unknown
唐錦たつたの山も今よりはもみぢながらにときはならなん
karanisiki Of Chinese brocade tatuta no yama mo Even Tatsuta Mountain ima yori ha If only, from now, momidi nagara ni The leaves could remain colored tokiha nara-nan And stay for eternity.
--
The sentiment is plain, but Tsurayuki elevates the normal wordplay of karanisiki as a pillow word for "Tatsuta Mountain". Here, he plays on the "cut cloth" meaning of tatu, suggesting "Do not cut the cloth of the autumn leaves brocade!" Kifune praises the poem's phrasing and imagery. Kudo notes the contradiction between the autumn leaves, normally a symbol of impermanence, and the evergreen tokiha.
386
から衣たつたの山のみみぢばははた物もなき錦なりけり
karakoromo Of Chinese clothing tatuta no yama no On Tatsuta Mountain momidiba ha The leaves of autumn hatamono mo naki Though not woven with a loom nisiki nari-keri The leaves are still a brocade.
--
Like the last poem, this takes the normal karakoromo pillow word and carries the meaning into the poem -- the mountain is able to cut the cloth but has no loom to weave. Even so, it makes the brilliantly colored brocade.
387
人々、もろともに浜づらをまかる道に、山の紅葉をこれかれよみ侍りけるに
Some people were walking together on a costal road, and some of them read poems on autumn leaves in the mountains.
ただみね
Tadamine
いく木ともえこそ見わかね秋山のもみぢの錦よそにたてれば
iku-ki to mo I cannot discern e koso mi-waka-ne How many trees are standing akiyama no The autumn mountain's momidi no nisiki Brocade made of colored leaves yoso ni tate-re-ba Is standing there, in the way.
- How many trees
- iku-ki also can mean "how long" in reference to cloth, for association with the brocade below.
--
Tadamine evokes the scene of the far off mountains in this occasional poem, using the wordplay to refer both to the trees themselves and the brocade of colored leaves. Perhaps this poem from the Kokin rokujo was written at the same time:
- 秋山の紅葉の錦いくきとも知らで霧立つ空のはかなさ
- I cannot tell how long the colored leaves brocade is in the autumn mountain; the impermanence of the misted sky.
388
題知らず
Circumstance unknown
よみ人も
Also the poet
秋風のうち吹くからに山も野もなべて錦におりかへすかな
akikaze no In autumn, right when uti-huku kara ni The wind blows across the land yama mo no mo In mountains and fields nabete nisiki ni Everywhere, like colored brocade, ori-kahesu kana Flutters like rippling waves.
--
The word ori in the last line also suggests the weaving of the brocade. Kifune points to the expansive scene with the beautiful autumn leaves, going beyond the mountains to the fields, and the animated picture the poem evokes.
389
などさらに秋かととはむからにしきたつたの山の紅葉するよを
nado sara ni Why ask, even now aki ka to toha-mu Whether this is now autumn? karanisiki This is a world where tatuta no yama no Tatsuta Mountain is draped momidi suru yo wo In a colored leaf brocade.
--
The basic meaning of the poem is fairly clear, and Kigin, Nakayama, and Kudo all seem to take it with this basic meaning. Both Kudo and Nakayama prefer a variant reading where the last line reads momidi siruki wo (the autumn leaves are clearly there). Other texts read tiru ki (the autumn leaves are falling). All these variants and uncertainty are presumably because the meaning of yo (world) is unusual in this context and not easy to understand.
Kifune says that if the poem merely had the surface meaning it would be dull, and along with Katagiri he interprets yo as having the common meaning of "love relationships between men and women". The poem then takes aki with the usual meaning of having been abandoned, and this becomes a poem read by a woman, comparing her lover's changing heart to the changing leaves. The only difficulty with this interpretation is that it relies on a very allusive interpretation of the autumn leaves, with no word meaning "change" or "shift" in the poem.
390
あだなりと我は見なくにもみぢばを色のかはれる秋しなければ
ada nari to I do not see them ware ha mi-naku ni As having a flighty heart, momidiba wo The leaves of autumn iro no kahare-ru Because there is no autumn aki si nakere-ba When they do not change color.
--
Like 389, this can be interpreted simply as a comment on the autumn leaves -- the contradiction between how quickly they change color, but the permanent way that they do so every year without change.
Kifune links this poem with 389 as a response by the man -- his heart may seem to have shifted, but she should trust that it's constant.
391
つらゆき
Tsurayuki
玉かづら葛木山のもみぢばはおもかげにのみみえわたるかな
tamakadura Jeweled climbing vines kadurakiyama no On Kazuraki Mountain momidiba ha Colored autumn leaves omokage ni nomi Only as a shadowy mie-wataru kana Image can I look at them.
- Jeweled climbing vines
- tamakadura is a pillow word for "Kazuragi mountain" but in the MYS is also used with "kage" (shadow), linking to the 4th line.
- Kazuraki Mountain
- Also Katsuragi, a mountain in Nara.
--
The skill of Tsurayuki's poem is in the dual use of the pillow word, but also in evoking the view of the mountain only as an image or memory. The meaning of the last two lines is either that the mountain is obscured so he can only see it vaguely, or that even when he's not looking at it, it recurs in his memory. I favor the first one, and Kudo cites an old legend that the god Hitokotonushi did not finish the bridge to access the mountain.
Nakayama and Kifune both suggest a love meaning to the poem, of a man complaining that he cannot directly see his love.
392
秋霧のたちしかくせばもみぢばはおぼつかなくてちりぬべらなり
akikiri no The mist of autumn tati si kakuse-ba Rises and hides it from view momidiba ha Autumn's colored leaves obotukanaku-te Hidden in obscurity tiri-nu bera-nari Are sure to scatter and fall!
--
There's a clear link to the previous poem's "obscure"/"shadow" image. This is the first time the scattering leaves occur, although just in potential. The major block of falling leaves is near the end of this volume. Both Kigin and Kifune note the yugen beauty of the scene.
There is also a possible love meaning similar to the previous poem, particularly in Kokin waka rokujo version:
- 秋霧のたちのみかくす河瀬の紅葉ばのおぼつかなくて止みぬべらなり
- The autumn mist rises and hides the autumn leaves at the river's edge, this seems sure to end in obscurity.
In this case, the first part is just a preface for the last lines where the poet bemoans the probable failure of his love.
Tsurayuki wrote a very similar poem for the Teiji Poetry Collection, on a spring theme:
- 春霞立ちし隠せば山桜人知れずこそ散りぬべらなれ
- The spring haze rises and hides the mountain cherries from view, so they are sure to scatter without anyone knowing!
393
鏡山を越ゆとて
When crossing Kagamiyama
素性法師
Priest Sosei
かがみやま山かきくもりしぐるれどもみぢあかくぞ秋は見えける
kagamiyama On mirror mountain yama kaki-kumori The mountain is covered by sigurure-do A cloud of cold rain, momidi akaku zo But the red colored leaves shine aki ha mie-keru And the autumn can be seen.
- Mirror mountain
- This is a mountain in Omi. Both "cloud" and "seen" are associated words with mirror.
- Red colored leaves shine
- akaku plays on "red" and "bright", and also creates opposition with "cloudy".
--
Kifune points to the poetic techniques as well as the vivid imagery created in the poem.
This poem's text varies especially widely in various texts and collections. The Kokin waka rokujo, for the last two lines, reads momidi ha naho mo teri-masari-keri (the autumn leaves still shine all the brighter). The Sosei collection is similar.
The Horikawa-bon text reads as follows, with the Unshu-bon in close agreement:
- 鏡山かきくもりつつくもれども紅葉はなほぞ赤く見えける
- Mirror Mountain is clouded over, but the shining of the red colored leaves can still be seen.
Finally, in the Tsurayuki collection the following very similiar poem occurs:
- あしひきの山かきくもりしぐるれど紅葉はいとどてりまさりけり
- The mountain is covered by a cloud of cold rain, but the autumn leaves still shine all the brighter.
Perhaps some of the variant readings for this poem were influenced by Tsurayuki's poem. Sosei may have also based his poem on Tsurayuki's (or vice versa).
394
隣に住み侍りける時、九月八日、伊勢が家の菊に綿を着せにつかはしたりければ、又のあした折りて帰すとて
When he lived next door, on the 8th day of the 9th month, he requested that Ise put the crysanthemum on cloth, and so the next day she broke it off and sent it back.
伊勢
Ise
かずしらず君がよはひをのばへつつなだたるやどのつゆとならなん
kazu sirazu To numberless years kimi ga yohahi wo Will your life extend by this, nobahe-tutu And on top of that, na-dataru yado no I hope it will become dew tuyu to nara-nan Of your illustrious house.
- Prose preface
- The preface is typically laconic and vague. On the 9th day of the 9th month, there was a celebration (derived from Chinese practice) where they would drink crysanthemum wine. In addition, they would leave a crysanthemum on a piece of cloth and then infuse the cloth with the dew from the flower. Wiping their face with that cloth was said to bring long life. The situation here is that Masatada, living next to Ise, has requested that she prepare the cloth for the festival tomorrow. She does so, and breaks off a crysanthemum to send back with the cloth, as well as the poem.
- Illustrious house
- This seems to refer to Masatada's family, which included a number of prominent poets and scholars.
--
This poem of celebration moves the collection on from autumn leaves, providing a break before the section of falling leaves. The section of crysanthemums begins with this exchange between Ise and Masatada. Crysanthemums are also a prominent late autumn image in the KKS.
The poem is a bit difficult to understand, and various interpretations of the last two lines have been offered. Nakayama thought that the "house" was Ise's own, and that she was hoping that her house would be as illustrious as his. Kifune and Katagiri have the interpretation I mentioned above, while Kudo applies the "hope" not only to the "become dew" but also the hope that Masatada's house will be known for long lived people. Both Kudo and Nakayama think that there is a comic feel, while Kifune judges it to be a well constructed celebratory poem.
395
返し
Response
藤原雅正
Fujiwara no Masatada
露だにも名だたるやどの菊ならば花のあるじやいくよなるらん
tuyu da ni mo If even the dew nadataru yado no On the mum is known to grant kiku nara-ba A long life, well then, hana no aruji ya The master of that flower, ikuyo naru-ran Must be rather elderly!
--
Masatada's response flips the honor back to Ise, but is also rather humorous. While Kigin interpreted the last two lines as "Your house (or reputation) will live on for many years", Nakayama and Kifune both read it as a more humorous "you must be old!" poem. This may seem rather rude of Masatada, but he would have been several decades younger than Ise and probably known her (through his father Kanesuke) from a very young age. Thus their closeness may have allowed this poem to be received more hospitably. Katagiri says that the nadataru yado also refers to Ise's established poetic skill.
396
九月九日、鶴の亡くなりにければ
On the 9th day of the 9th month, a crane had died
伊勢
Ise
菊のうへにおきゐるべくもあらなくにちとせの身をもつゆになすかな
kiku no uhe ni Though it shouldn't be oki-wiru beku mo Laying on the petals of ara-naku ni The crysanthemum, titose no mi wo mo Even the thousand-year body tuyu ni nasu kana Has turned itself to dew!
--
This continues the sequence of poems on the 9/9 crysanthemum festival, again with a poem by Ise. Rather than directly involving the festival, this uses the imagery of the day to write about the dead crane. The crane's legendary long life has vanished like the dew, although given the day, this can be connected to the crystanthemum dew that supposedly brings long life.
According to the Ise Collection, Emperor Uda had two cranes. One was killed accidentally by someone in the palace. Ise recited a poem on that occasion, which is included in the GSS as poem 1423. Soon after the other crane died, upon which Ise recited this poem.
A poem in the Mitsune Collection was written on the same occasion:
- あしたづの世さへはかなくなりにけり今日や千歳の限りなるらん
- Even the life of the crane is fleeting! Today was the limit of its thousand years.
397
題知らず
Circumstance unknown
よみ人も
Also the poet
きくの花長月ごとにさきくればひさしき心秋やしるらん
kiku no hana The crysanthemum nagaduki goto ni Each year in the long 9th month saki-kure-ba Blooms, and ever blooms, hisasiki kokoro Its long and faithful heart aki ya siru-ran Does the autumn realize it?
--
This poem personifies the crysanthemum and the autumn. The symbol of long life blooms every year in the "long month", so does the autumn recognize its faithfulness? This could be a love poem with a woman wondering if the man, with his aki feeling, recognizes her faithfulness. Katagiri also suggests the possibility of a poem directed to a superior, pledging loyalty and devotion.
398
名にしおへばなが月ごとに君がためかきねの菊はにほへとぞ思ふ
na ni si ohe-ba Since it bears the name nagaduki goto ni Of "long month", each year for kimi ga tame Your prosperity, kakine no kiku ha Crysanthemums on the fence, nihohe to zo omohu Bloom! is what I firmly think.
--
Like the previous poem, this has to do with the connection between the "long month" and the crysanthemum's association with long life. Scholars are divided on what "bears the name" -- is it the month bearing the name of "long", or is it the flower? If it is the flower, the kiku may play on "have an effect" or "listen (to my request)". Katagiri does not mention either play on words, but simply says the flower is bearing the reptutation (another meaning of na) of extending life.
399
他の菊を移し植ゑて
Replanting a crysanthemum from elsewhere
旧里を別れてさける菊の花たびながらこそにほふべらなれ
hurusato wo From its old hometown wakare-te sake-ru It left and is now blooming kiku no hana The crysanthemum tabi-nagara koso It's just while on a journey nihohu bera-nare That it blooms so beautifully.
--
The meaning of the poem is clear. It may be based on KKS 280 by Tsurayuki (in a similar situation):
- 咲きそめし宿しかはればきくの花色さへにこそうつろひにけれ
- The garden the flower was planted in has changed, and so even the color has faded.
The GSS poem is the opposite of this.
400
男の久しうまでこざりければ
A man had not visited in some time.
何に菊色そめかへしにほふらん花もてはやす君もこなくに
nani ni kiku Why, crysanthemum, iro some-kahe-si Are you changing color and nihohu ran Shining beautifully? hana mote-hayasu He who would celebrate you kimi mo ko-naku ni Has not come for a long time.
--
This is a love poem either sent to the man himself, or read as an expression of the woman's feeling. Crysanthemums can change color from white to red, and this was attributed to the frost or dew. There is a similar poem that was read in 918 (and included in the Shin chokusen shu):
- 置く霜の色そめかえしにほひつつ花の盛り今日ながら見む
- The frost lays upon it and changes the color, blooming brilliantly, and we see them today.
401
月夜と紅葉の散るを見て
Looking at the falling autumn leaves on a moonlit night
もみぢばのちりくる見れば長月のありあけの月の桂なるらし
momidiba no When I see them fall tiri-kuru mire-ba The scattering autumn leaves nagaduki no They look like leaves from ariake no tuki no The 9th month katsura tree katura naru-rasi On the moon shining at dawn.
- Shining at dawn
- This doesn't seem to fit with "moonlit night"; Katagiri and Kudo both say this is just a set phrase that refers to the moon after the 20th of the month
- katsura tree
- See poem 17.
--
This is a clear poem, relying on KKS 194 (see the link to poem 17 above for the poem) and its image of the tree on the moon in autumn. This poem is perhaps placed here because the "fantasy" world makes it still seem removed from the actual leaves falling.
402
題知らず
Circumstance unknown
いくちはたおればか秋の山ごとに風にみだるる錦なるらん
ikuti hata How many clothings ore-ba ka aki no Do they weave so in autumn, yama goto ni On every mountain, kaze ni midaruru It is like a brocade nisiki naru-ran Buffeted by chaotic winds.
- How many clothings
- The phrase ikuti hata is somewhat unclear; it might mean "how many looms" but the grammar is suspect for that. Since hata can also mean the pieces of clothing (as Kifune says), this seems to fit better with the grammar.
--
Like the preceding poems, this only suggests the falling leaves rather than evoking them directly. This poem might have come earlier in the book with other "brocade" poems, but the wind blowing the leaves into chaos suggests they are falling or about to fall.
403
なほざりに秋の山べをこえくればおらぬ錦をきぬ人ぞなき
nahozari ni Without any care aki no yamabe wo We cross over the mountain koe-kure-ba In autumn, and so ora-nu nisiki wo There is no one who does not ki-nu hito zo naki Wear an unwoven brocade.
--
Picking up on the "brocade" imagery of previous poems, the suggestion here is that the falling leaves blanket the people and make them look like they are wearing colored brocade. The poem might be an abstract one or one on a screen painting; I translated "we" to fit with the usual more personal style of the GSS.
In the Kokin waka rokujo there is a similar poem:
- なほさらに秋の野山を分け行けば錦を衣に着ぬ人ぞなき
- Still we make our way through the autumn fields and mountains, and there is no one who does not wear a brocade as clothing.
Many GSS manuscripts have alternate readings matching this poem, particularly in the fourth line. There are two other poems that express similar themes. One in the Shinsen Man'yoshu:
- 日暮しに秋の野山を分けくれば心にもおらぬ錦ぞきる
- We make our way through autumn fields and mountains in the evening, and so we wear brocade not intentionally woven.
Then SIS 210:
- 朝まだき嵐の山の寒ければ紅葉の錦着ぬ人ぞなき
- Early in the morning Arashi Mountain is cold, so there is no one who does not wear a brocade of autumn leaves.
This poem, by Fujiwara no Kinto, was perhaps based on the GSS poem or one of its variants.
404
もみぢばをわけつつゆけば錦きて家に帰ると人や見るらん
momidiba wo I make my way through wake-tutu yuke-ba Scattering autumn leaves, so nisiki ki-te Wearing a brocade ihe ni kaheru to I return home to show it: hito ya miru-ran That must be what people see.
--
This is a comic poem based on the idea of returning home in finery to show your advancement in the world. This may be based on the story of Zhu Maichen from Chinese history, or just a common phrase arising from that story -- that receiving a promotion and not returning home to show everyone is like wearing a beautiful brocade and walking around at night.
405
つらゆき
Tsurayuki
うちむれていざわぎものがかがみ山こえてもみぢのちらむかげ見む
uti-mure-te Let's get together iza wagimoko ga And go to my beloved's kagamiyama Mirror mountain, there koe-te momidi no We'll cross and see the image tira-mu kage mi-mu Autumn leaves that should soon fall.
- My beloved's
- This is is a pillow word for "mirror" (mountain).
--
This seems to be a poem of invitation to see the falling leaves. The main question is why they are only seeing the "image" (kage) of the leaves. Nakayama thought it was read at night, so that they would only see the outlines in the moonlight. Kifune suggests the shadowy forest with only a bit of light coming through the trees, but thinks that we shouldn't push this too far -- kage is primarily used for poetic assocation with "mirror". Finally, Katagiri reads this as a poem on a screen painting of people going out to see the leaves.
406
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
山かぜのふきのまにまにもみぢばはこのもかのもにちりぬべらなり
yamakaze no Wind from the mountains huki no manimani Blowing wherever it will momidiba ha The leaves of autumn konomo kanomo ni Here and there and everywhere tiri-nu-bera-nari Must surely be scattering.
--
This seems to be just a direct poem on the falling leaves in the autumn wind. Nakayama suggested a metaphorical meaning of people leaving in various directions, and Kifune and Katagiri lend qualified support to this idea. There is a poem in the Kokin waka rokujo by Ise, composed on Emperor Uda's death when the women of his palace were leaving to go to their various homes, that uses similar imagery.
In the early commentary period there was concern over the fourth line. Fujiwara no Mototsune had claimed in a poetic competition judgment that this phrase was only acceptable used in reference to Tsukuba Mountain, because other mountains did not have the proper position for the leaves to scatter in all directions. This idea was rejected by Fujiwara no Kiyosuke, Teika, and other commentators after him.
407
秋の夜に雨ときこえてふりつるは風にみだるる紅葉なりけり
aki no yo ni On an autumn night ame to kikoe-te What I heard as falling rain huri-turu ha Turned out to be kaze ni midaruru Autumn colored leaves, by the wind momidi nari-keri Scattered down in disarray.
--
Kigin notes the "surplus feeling" of the poem's combination of auditory and visual stimuli. Kifune agrees, noting that the clear expression hides a more complex construction.
This poem occurs in the SIS (208) attributed to Tsurayuki. The third line reads huru mono ha (what is falling) and the fourth line has sitagahu (following) instead of midaruru (disarrayed). The change in the third line removes the specific image of hearing the rain last night but waking up to see the leaves.
408
立ちよりて見るべき人のあればこそ秋の林ににしきしくらめ
tati-yori-te There is a person miru-beki hito no Who should stop by and visit are-ba koso And see -- is that why aki no hayasi ni In the autumn woods there is nisiki siku-rame Spread out a lovely brocade?
--
The expression is clear, and is based on the poet seeing the carpet of leaves in the forest. Kigin notes "surplus feeling" from the loneliness of the scene; his interpretation seems to be that the poet thinks this brocade was for someone else. Katagiri suggests a love meaning -- this could be sent by a woman to a man who failed to visit when he promised.
409
このもとにをらぬ錦のつもれるは雲の林のもみぢなりけり
ko no moto ni Beneath the trees ora-nu nisiki no The unwoven brocade lies tumo-reru ha Piled up; it is kumo no hayasi no The fallen leaves of autumn momidi nari-keri In the woods among the clouds.
- Woods among the clouds
- This seems to be a reference to Unrin-in temple (written 雲林院) north of Kyoto.
--
Although there is no prose preface, this would seem to be written at Unrin'in temple or at least in reference to that place. The phrasing may also suggest a misty mountain inhabited by sages, who wear natural leaves as clothing. The KKS has five poems referring to Unrin'in, and a poem using the "Cloud woods" image also occurs in the Kagero Diary. KKS 292, by Bishop Henjo, is about the autumn leaves at the temple:
- わび人の分きてたちよる木のもとはたのむかげなくもみぢ散りけり
- One who has renounced the world makes his way to one tree, and the tree has shed its autumn leaves and offers no protection.
410
秋風にちるもみぢばはをみなへしやどにおりしく錦なりけり
akikaze ni In the autumn wind tiru momidiba ha The autumn leaves that fall are wominaesi A brocade, woven yado ni ori-siku By the patrinias to spread nisiki nari-keri Out over their home's garden.
--
This poem uses the patrinia, with its female-sounding name, to create the image of a woman weaving a brocade to spread out in her house. Here, it's the flowers that are spreading the brocade in their garden. A similar themed poem occurs in the Tsurayuki Collection:
- 秋の野の萩の錦は女郎花たちまじりつつおれるなりけり
- The brocade of hagi of the autumn field is woven by patrinias as they mix among them.
411
葦引の山のもみぢばちりにけり嵐のさきに見てまし物を
asihiki no The leaves of autumn yama no momidiba On the foot-dragging mountains tiri-ni-keri Have scattered, I see. arasi no saki ni If only I had seen them mite-masi mono wo Before the storm had come through.
- Leaves of autumn
- momidiba could also be momidi ha although this would not substantially change the meaning. Most manuscripts simply read は, although a few of Teika's earlier manuscripts use the kanji 葉. Commentaries are divided on which one is correct.
- Foot-dragging
- asihiki is a word of uncertain meaning acting as a pillow word for "mountain".
- Storm
- This seems to be a metaphor for the leaves scattering and blowing around in the wind.
--
This is a simple poem with an obvious meaning, although Kifune wonders if the poet was using love imagery to show his feelings for the leaves. mite would be like men and women meeting, and the "storm" is another man taking her away.
412
もみぢばのふりしく秋の山べこそたちてくやしきにしきなりけり
momidiba no The color changed leaves huri-siku aki no Fall all over the mountain yamabe koso In autumn -- it's this tati-te ya kuyasiki This brocade, that I regret nisiki nari-keri Leaving behind, not seeing.
- leaving
- This is the usual wordplay with tati referring to cutting cloth, but the other meaning can be either standing at the mountain, or taking one's leave of the mountain.
--
There seem to be two primary interpretations of this poem. One is that the poet regrets standing here seeing the fallen leaves, he would have rather seen them before they fell (before the brocade was cut). The other is that the fallen leaves are beautiful and that the poet doesn't want to leave them. The former interpretation brings an interesting additional dimension of meaning to the cut/stand wordplay that is so common in these poems.
413
たつた河色紅になりにけり山のもみぢぞ今はちるらし
tatuta-gaha The Tatsuta River iro kurenawi ni I see has now changed into nari-ni-keri A scarlet color. yama no momidi zo Apparently the mountain's ima ha tiru-rasi Autumn leaves have now fallen.
--
As mentioned earlier, Tatsuta-hime is associated with autumn, and Tatsuta River also appears in a large number of autumn poems in the KKS (though not in the MYS). The one that is most famous is the Narihira poem selected for the Hyakunin isshu, KKS 294:
- ちはやぶる神世も聞かずたつた河から紅に水くくるとは
- Since the age of gods it was not heard, that the Tatsuta River was dyed with scarlet.
The GSS poem does not stop with dyeing the river, but the entire thing has become scarlet.
414
つらゆき
Tsurayuki
龍田河秋にしなれば山近みながるる水も紅葉しにけり
tatutagaha Tatsuta River aki ni si nare-ba When autumn season arrives yama tika-mi Is close to mountains, nagaruru midu mo So the flowing water, too, momidi si-ni-keri Changes color as the leaves.
--
There is a difference of opinion on whether the coloring is due to the reflection of the autumn leaves on the surface, or the leaves having fallen into the river. The position of the poem would certainly suggest the latter. But the last line uses the verb momidi-su, meaning "leaves change color", with respect to the river -- this may suggest a reflection of color from the leaves rather than the leaves having fallen. Perhaps this was originally a general autumn poem?
415
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
もみぢ葉のながるる秋は河ごとに錦あらふと人や見るらん
momidiba no When colored leaves float nagaruru aki ha In autumn they move downstream kawa goto ni In every river nisiki arahu to People must be seeing them hito ya miru-ran As if a brocade were washed.
--
This is the same brocade imagery as previously; here referring to the practice of rinsing or washing a dyed cloth in water to finish the process or brighten the colors. Most commentaries also point to a Chinese legend [ADD HERE], although Kifune is the lone voice in rejecting it.
416
たつた河秋は水なくあせななんあかぬ紅葉のながるればをし
tatutagaha Tatsuta river: aki ha midu naku How I wish that in autumn, ase-na-nan The water would dry! aka-nu momidi no I don't want to see the leaves nagarure-ba wosi Float away from my vision.
--
Another poem with direct expression, involving leaves on the Tatsuta river.
417
文屋朝康
Fun'ya no Asayasu
浪わきて見るよしもがなわたつみのそこの見るめももみぢちるやと
nami waki-te How I wish I could miru yosi mogana Make my way into the sea watatumi no Part the waves and see soko no mirume mo If the seaweed on the floor momidi-tiru ya to Had changed color and fallen.
--
This is another instance where the poet creates a fantasy situation; the leaves are coloring and falling everywhere; is the seaweed in the ocean the same? There also may be a written pun here; the word mirume could be spelled as 海松 (such as in the Wamyo ruijusho), so the idea that 松 (pine trees) don't change their leaves' color could be part of the meaning as well.
418
藤原興風
Fujiwara no Okikaze
この葉ちる浦に浪たつ秋なればもみぢに花もさきまがひけり
konoha tiru The leaves have fallen ura ni nami tatu Into the bay where waves rise aki nare-ba During this autumn: momidi ni hana mo There, flowers are blooming forth saki-magahi-keri And mixing with autumn leaves.
--
Spring poems often compare the white waves to blooming plums or cherry blossoms. This is an autumn version of such a poem -- the leaves that have fallen into the sea mix with the waves and produce the impossible situation of flowers blooming at the same time leaves fall. Kifune notes the careful construction; the first two lines set the scene, then the third gives the season, and the fourth the impossible situation. Nakayama thought the imagery was suggested by the trees waving in the breeze to look like waves.
This seems to be the opposite sentiment to KKS 250 by Fun'ya no Yasuhide:
- 草も木も色かはれどもわたつ海の浪の花にぞ秋なかりける
- The grass and the trees change color, but in the wide sea there is no autumn for the flowers on the waves.
419
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
わたつみの神にたむくる山姫のぬさをぞ人はもみぢといひける
watatumi no What is given to kami ni tamukuru The god of the wide ocean yamabime no The mountain princess' nusa wo zo hito ha Talismans; they're what people momidi to ihi-keru Seem to label leaves of autumn.
- God
- The ocean god and mountain princess are both gods of Japanese folklore, mentioned in the Kojiki and other sources.
- Talismans
- nusa, small pieces of paper presented to gods in Shinto rituals.
--
This poem continues the theme of autumn leaves in the sea. Here, the leaves that fall into the ocean are portrayed as nusa offerings from the Mountain Princess to the Sea God. It is similar to KKS 298 by Prince Kanemi:
- 龍田姫たむくる神のあればこそ秋の木の葉の幣とちるらめ
- Because there is a god Princess Tatsuta gives offerings to, the leaves from the trees scatter as paper offerings.
It may also recall KKS 420 by Sugawara no Michizane:
- この旅は幣もとりあへずたむけ山紅葉の錦神のまにまに
- On this journey we did not prepare paper offerings, so on Tamuke Mountain offer the autumn leaf brocade by the will of the gods.
420
つらゆき
Tsurayuki
ひぐらしの声もいとなくきこゆるは秋ゆふぐれになればなりけり
higurasi no Cicadas' voices kowe mo itonaku Are crying out without pause kikoyuru ha We hear this because aki yuhugure ni Autumn approaches evening nare-ba nari-keri As we see the season end.
- Evening
- This is perhaps a play on actual evening, when the cicadas cry (whose name literally means "sun goes down"), and the end kure of the season.
--
The long block of autumn leaves poems finally gives way to an end-of-autumn poem, although the remaining 21 poems will involve a number of different autumn images. This poem relies on wordplays involving the evening, the insects, and the approaching winter.
421
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
風のおとの限りと秋やせめつらんふきくるごとに声のわびしき
kaze no oto no The sound of the wind kagiri to aki ya Seems to bear down on autumn seme-tu-ran To its limit end huki-kuru goto ni In every gust that blows through kowe no wabisiki The voice raises in sadness.
--
This continues the end of autumn poems. The wind, so often connected with autumn, is here blowing to its limit, which is also the end of autumn. It's possible that there are some wordplays on the koto instrument -- the wind sounding like the koto or the sad sound of the koto. Kifune reads a haikai comic feeling with the autumn as the man and the wind as the woman, crying out at the man's abandonment. But this is a fitting feeling for the cold, lonely season.
422
もみぢばにたまれるかりのなみだには月の影こそ移るべらなれ
momidiba ni On the autumn leaves tamare-ru kari no The collected tears of the namida ni ha Geese flying above tuki no kage koso It is the light of the moon uturu bera-nare That must be moving on them.
--
The images of the goose tears as dew, and the moon reflected in tears or dew, has been used before. But given the placement of this poem in the collection, we may see uturu as not only the moon moving across the dew and reflecting, but also the season changing over to winter. The base text uses the kanji 移; most editions emend this to 映 to highlight the "reflected" meaning, but Teika's kanji usage is appropriate to the poem's position in the collection.
