Something we all have to face in the end:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
花さそふう	Hana sasou	It entices the flowers—
あらしの庭にわの	Arashi no niwa no	the storm—but through the garden’s white,
雪ならで	Yuki nara de	it is not snow,
ふりゆくものは	Furi yuku mono wa	and what it is that’s scattering
わが身なりけり	Wa ga mi narikeri	are, in fact, the years of my life!

The author, Nyūdō Saki no Daijōdaijin (入道前太政大臣, 1171 – 1244), or “Buddhist novice and former Chancellor of the Realm”. His personal name was Fujiwara no Kintsune. He was a powerful member of the elite Fujiwara clan and extended his support to the Hyakunin Isshu’s compiler, Fujiwara no Teika (poem 97), after Teika married Kintsune’s older sister. He was also well-liked by members of the old Imperial Court and the new military government at Kamakura.

According to Mostow, Kintsune married a niece of Minamoto no Yoritomo, the first shogun of the new military government. After Yoritomo’s son Sanetomo (poem 93) died a tragic death with no heir, Kintsune pushed to make his grandson Kujō Yoritsune, a distant relation to Sanetomo, the next shogun. My new book states that his reputation worsens in his later years as he kept manipulating the power of shoguns from behind the throne.

It also implies that Kintsune may have helped tip off the new military government about Emperor Gotoba’s (poem 99) plans to wrest back control, helping to contribute to the demise of the Emperor and his son (poem 100).

Ah, times had changed since the earlier generations of the Hyakunin Isshu mostly worried about poetry contests and marriage arrangements.

But I digress.

This poem, unlike other poems recently posted which were more clear-cut in meaning, often was the subject of much interpretation. The contrast between the aging man and the scattering of flowers in the wind, called hana fubuki (花吹雪) led to many interpretations by later commentators particularly about the man growing old, according to Professor Mostow. Perhaps he won’t be back next year?

The image of hana fubuki also is noteworthy, because it isn’t a small scattering of flowers. It refers to great scattering of blossoms in the wind, just like a snowfall. Thus Kintsune is witnessing this great scattering even as he contemplates his own decline even after so many years in power.

Pretty awesome poem, really, for a man who lived a noteworthy life.

Speaking of scenic views, Kintsune’s residence of Saionji (西園寺), which was also established as his clan’s new name (Saionji), later became the famous Golden Pavilion.

Indeed Kintsune’s contribution to Japanese culture and history, dubious as it may be, can be felt even today.