Month: March 2013

End Of An Affair: Poem 63

This is one of the sadder poems to share, but does have an interesting historical point to share as well:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
今はただIma wa tadaNow, the only thing
思ひいたえなむんOmoi taenanI wish for is a way to say
とばかりをTo bakari woto you directly
人づてならでHitozute nara de—not through another—
いふうよしもがなIu yoshi mo ga na“I will think of you no longer!”
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The poem was composed by Sakyō Daibu Michimasa (左京大夫道雅, 993 – 1054) who title means “Master of the Western Capital Michimasa”. He also known by his personal name as Fujiwara no Michimasa. 

Michimasa was the son of Fujiwara no Korechika, and Michimasa’s grandmother wrote poem 54. Despite their power and influence, Michimasa’s family was on the losing side of a struggle with a rival clan faction, led by his great-uncle Fujiwara no Michinaga. Michimasa. According to Mostow, Michimasa spent the remainder of his life in “elegant retirement” after their family lost the power struggle.

According to Mostow, the story behind this poem was a famous affair involving Michimasa and the former High Priestess of the Ise Shrine, Masako Naishinnō (当子内親王, “Princess Masako”). My new book explains that Michimasa was 24 at the time and she was 15, and had just returned to the capitol after fulfilling her duties as the high priestess. More on that below.

This affair is described in the Eiga Monogatari, an important historical source at the time, possibly composed by Akazome Emon (poem 55).

In any case, news of the affair angered her father, the Retired Emperor Sanjo (poem 68) and the retired emperor subsequently assigned bodyguards to her to prevent Michimasa from seeing her again. As you can see, Michimasa is lamenting that he can’t even say a proper goodbye to her in person anymore. Princess Masako eventually took tonsure as a Buddhist nun, and soon after died due to illness. They never met again.

But there is a bit more to the story. Michimasa, like his father Korechika, had a bad reputation that dogged him throughout his life, and kept him shut of out any official posts in the government. With the loss of Masako, and no hope of success in society, Michimasa took a dramatic turn for the worse. My new book explains that Michimasa fell headlong into gambling, and violence, so much so that he earned the nicknames such as Arasanmi (荒三位, “Wild third rank”) and Akusanmi (悪三位, “evil third rank”). The “third rank” was his aristocratic rank in the Imperial court.

Worse still, Michimasa was implicated in the murder of Emperor Kazan’s daughter in 1024 in the dread Jotomon-in Incident (上東門院女房殺害事件, jōtōmon-in nyōbō satsugai jiken). The murderer confessed to killing her on Michimasa’s orders. Yikes.

Michimasa was finally demoted and in his final years took tonsure as a Buddhist monk, and faded from history.

Let’s talk about Princess Masako’s role of High Priestess, though.

The Ise Grand Shrine is probably one of the most sacred, if not the most sacred, in all of Japanese Shinto religion. The featured photo above shows the inner sanctum (photo by Yanajin33, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons).

Due to shrine’s connection with the Imperial Family, who were said to be descended from its primary deity, Amaterasu Omi-no-Kami, the Imperial Family always had one member serving as the High Priestess or saiin (斎院). Usually this was the reigning Emperor’s daughter, and when that Emperor stepped down, she would return to the capitol. This tradition still continues to this day, even with the modern Imperial family. Another example within the Hyakunin Isshu is Shokushi Naishinnō (poem 89).

In those days, the High Priestess was a vestal virgin, similar to the ancient priestesses of Rome, and was supposed to remain so during her tenure. However, as other writings of the time showed, such women still corresponded with men from time to time and kept a social circle of women around them. Lady Murasaki (poem 57) lamented in her diary about the rival social circle around the High Priestess at the time outshining the Court itself.

Nevertheless, the life of High Priestess was very demanding and required strict ritual purity, part of Shinto religion. One could not come into the presence of the gods, particularly at more sacred sites, without it. Thus, Princess Masako’s affair with the dubious Michimasa apparently went too far and Emperor Sanjo’s reaction was quite harsh.

The tragic story of Fujiwara no Michimasa and Princess Masako, encapsulated in this short poem, is a complex and dark tale. Michimasa was in a sense doomed from the start due to his family’s loss of grace and dubious reputation. Princess Masako, being a teen and cloistered in the Imperial family duties probably didn’t know better. Their romance was doomed from the start, but the evil turn by Michimasa only makes the story sadder. What if Michimasa had been able to continue his romance with Masako, or maybe wasn’t shunned by society in his youth? What might the two have become? What if they had simply never met?

We will sadly never know.

In Memory Only: Poem 55

Another poem on the transience of life:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
滝の音はTaki no oto waAlthough the sound of
絶えて久しくTaete hisashikuthe waterfull has ceased,
なりぬれどNarinuredoand that long ago,
名こそ流れてNa koso nagareteits name, indeed, has carried on
なほお聞えけれNao kikoe kereand is still heard!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, Dainagon Kintō (大納言公任, 966 – 1041), better known as Major Counselor Fujiwara no Kintō, was one of the top poets of the Heian Period, and the grandson of Tadahira (poem 26) and father of Sadayori (poem 64).

Kinto was more than just a good poet, he was something of a genius renaissance man for his era. There is a famous anecdote taken from a historical text of the time called the Ō-kagami (大鏡, “great mirror”). In this anecdote his kinsman, the statesman Fujiwara no Michinaga, had three boats docked for a party, and invited the literati of the time to board one of three boats: one for Japanese poetry (waka, 和歌), one for Chinese poetry (kanshi, 漢詩), and one for wind and string music (kangen, 管弦) according to their skill. Michinaga then realized that Kinto was so multi-talented he could board any of the three boats so he let Kinto decide. Thus, Kinto earned the nickname Sanshū-no-sai (三船の才, “three boat genius”).

As a side note, when he considered the “waka” boat, he recited the following verses:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
小倉山Ogura-yamaThe cold, stormy
嵐の風のArashi no kazé nowind blowing from
寒ければSamukerebaMount Ogura
紅葉の錦Momiji no nishikiscatters nobles in finery
着「き」ぬ人ぞなきKinu hito zo nakilike autumn leaves!
My own translation, apologies for any mistakes or clumsy translations

This was recorded in the aforementioned Ō-kagami as an example of his cleverness.

Among other accomplishments, Kintō was a respected critic who compiled the Thirty Six Immortals of Poetry list. Kinto compiled imperial anthologies that still represent Japanese Waka poetry of that era. In short, Kinto was the ultimate cultural authority of his time. He is also credited by Lady Murasaki (poem 57, め) or “Lady Purple” for giving her that nickname according to her diary. This was a playful allusion to her Tales of Genji that was circulating at the time and a major nod by Kinto.

Finally, Kinto also served in the Imperial court under the aforementioned Michinaga, and proved to be an able administrator. While he mostly stayed out of the power struggle at the time, he benefitted nonetheless.

But I digress.

According to Mostow, the poem itself was composed after a number of people visited a famous Buddhist temple called Daikakuji, which is in the western part of the capitol of Kyoto. Interestingly, Mostow also points out that this poem is found nowhere else despite the fact that Kinto was a famous poet and had an extensive collection for Fujiwara no Teika to draw from. One suggestion is that Daikakuji is in the same area as Mount Ogura, which is where Teika’s villa resided. The full name of the Hyakunin Isshu anthology is actually the Ogura Hyakunin Isshu by the way.

In any case, this poem is pretty interesting because of the sense of change over time. The waterfall that existed long ago still exists, but in name only. In the same way, life as we know it know will become a dim memory or a misplaced name for future generations. Although Japanese culture has been influenced by Buddhism and its notion of transience since early history, I think this is a point that anyone, anywhere can appreciate.

Also, Kinto’s ability to express this sense of change and impermanence to life seems to me to demonstrate his poetic talent all too well. 🙂

P.S. Featured photo is of the “Materiya” Waterfall in Kagoshima Prefecture, photo by Si-take. at Japanese Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The World Moves On: Poem 93

I was reminded of this poem recently and felt like sharing it with readers. It is one of the most poignant in the anthology, I think:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
世の中はYo no naka waIf only this world
つねにもがもなTsune ni mo ga mo nacould always remain the same!
なぎさこぐNagisa koguThe sight of them towing
あまのをおぶねのAma no obune nothe small boats of the fishermen who row in the tide
綱手かなしもTsuna de kanashi mois touching indeed!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by the Kamakura no Udaijin (鎌倉右大臣, 1192-1219), or “Kamakura Minister of the Right”. He is also known as Minamoto no Sanetomo. Sanetomo was the third shogun of the new Kamamura Shogunate, the same military government opposed by Emperor Gotoba (poem 99) and Emperor Juntoku (poem 100).

Sanetomo was a more gentler ruler than some of his predecessors, and even studied poetry under Fujiwara no Teika (poem 97), the compiler of the Hyakunin Isshu anthology and contributed to other Imperial anthologies as well.

However, he lived at a time when the old Heian court (which included most of the authors in this anthology) had been reduced to a shadow of its former self (see poem 100 above). The power had shifted away from the Imperial Court to the eastern city of Kamakura, and the country was still rebuilding itself after war. Sadly, this new center of power was unstable, and as the third Shogun, he was surrounded by ambitious family members and retainers who either plotted to replace him with their chosen candidate, or ruled “on his behalf”. Sanetomo was a tragic, powerless figure who was given to drink and poetry because he had little else to look forward to.

After escaping other assassination attempts, Sanetomo was killed at age 28 at Tsurugaoka Hachimangu shrine (English site here). His nephew, Kugyo, was hiding behind a ginkgo tree which can be seen to the left of the stairs in the photo above. As Sanetomo descended the stairs, Kugyo leapt out and cut him down with a sword. The ginkgo tree still stood for another 800+ years, but finally fell over in March of 2010 due to age and disease. Efforts to resuscitate the tree are underway. The photos in this post were both taken by me in the winter of 2023: the stump of the dead tree is on the left, while the restored sapling is fenced off in the middle. The grand stairs leading up to the shrine is where Sanetomo was assassinated.

This poem reflects his melancholy as he views the shores of Kamakura, and wishing this peaceful scene would always remain, in contrast to the turbulent life he lived.

Politics and power are a dangerous thing.