If you’re here reading the blog, chances are you like the poetry of the Hyakunin Isshu. Who doesn’t? Maybe you like it so much, you’ve tried to memorize your favorite poems too (I do). But what’s better than memorizing your favorite poems? Reciting them!
When I first learned to play karuta, I realized that poems of the Hyakunin Isshu are recited in a specific style in Japanese. This is necessary for the players to hear clearly, but also reflects a traditional singing method for reciting waka poetry.1 Even on kids shows about Japanese language, when waka or haiku are recited, they’re recited in the same way. Of course, this is not required, but it is cool to learn, and doesn’t take that much effort.
First, let’s look at this Youtube playlist of Hyakunin Isshu poems.2 In particular, let’s look at poem 2:
Poem 2, はるす
All waka poems, including the Hyakunin Isshu have five verses, and are usually written top to bottom, right to left. The poems are further divided by the first three “upper verses” (kami no ku, 上の句) and last two “lower verses” (shimo no ku, 下の句) for structured, reciting, and for games.
It really helps if you can read hiragana script, but even if not, listen to the intonation of the poem, and the way some syllables are drawn out longer (expressed above as vertical “|” lines). That’s how you recite waka poetry.
The syllables that are drawn out are not always in the same place, by the way. Poem 24 of the Hyakunin Isshu does not always match poem 2 especially the fourth verse (fourth column from the right):
Poem 24, この
Or take a look at poem 11 which has a slightly unusual format. This makes the pacing different, and affects where syllables are drawn out:
Poem 11, わたのはらや
Poem 11 is a particularly tricky poem to recite, in my opinion, but also fun because the first two lines sound really neat.
Reciting isn’t just for showing off by the way.
In my book on the Manyoshu, it talks about how many poems come alive when they are recited. This was true during Japanese antiquity, and centuries later when the Hyakunin Isshu was compiled too. There are sounds and expressions that have a nice ring to them and it’s not always apparent if you are just reading the poem in your mind. For example poem 3 of the Hyakunin Isshu uses a lot of “no” (の) sounds that come alive when recited aloud:
Poem 3, あし
Another example is poem 58 which simply has a nice ring to it:
Poem 58, ありま
Anyhow, unless you’re training to be a professional yomité reader in karuta, it’s not necessary to master reciting all 100 poems, or to even sound this nice. However, if you have a handful of poems you like, learning to master the recitation is a great way to bring poems to life. You can use the excellent Youtube list above, or if you are a tactile person (like me), you might consider getting a set of yomite cards like the ones sold by Oishi Tengu-do, direct link here. I purchased mine in Japan this year and enjoy flipping through them and practicing poems I like.
In truth, I am a TERRIBLE singer. I am truly tone-deaf. But, with a bit of practice you get used to the rhythm of a poem and can recite it without much effort. Some poems are easier than others (poem 11 is tough), but with a bit of practice and familiarity anyone can learn to recite their favorite poem.
1 Roughly 99% of the poems I’ve posted in this blog for the past 13 years are all waka poems. These poems almost always have a pattern of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables, as opposed to later haiku poetry that only have 5-7-5 syllables.
2 If you want to search other Youtube examples, search for 百人一首 読み上げ (reading Hyakunin Isshu aloud).
Back to our regularly scheduled program, I wanted to share a neat little poem, composed by none other than Princess Nukata using the theme of Autumn and of a night tryst:
Original Manyogana
Modern Japanese
Romanization
Rough Translation
君待跡
君待つと
Kimi matsu to
As I wait for you
吾戀居者
我が恋ひをれば
A ga koi oreba
in anticipation
我屋戸乃
我が宿戸の
A ga yado no
the blinds
簾令動
簾動かし
Sudare ugokashi
of my window flutter
秋之風吹
秋の風吹く
Aki no kaze fuku
but it is only the autumn breeze…
Princess Nukata needs little introduction in the blog. She was the loveinterest of two powerful men, issued a call to war, and made quite a contribution to the Manyoshu anthology which the Hyakunin Isshu and other later anthologies are all based upon. My book about the Manyoshu, in talking about spring versus fall, listed this poem as an early, early example in Japanese poetry of using autumn to symbolize other things. In this case, a romantic meeting at night, and a woman who eagerly awaits her lover. The blinds alluded to here are sudaré blinds used in Japanese culture since antiquity and even to this day.
Illustrated scroll of the Tales of Genji, chapter 34, 17th century. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
In the past year, I’ve spent a fair amount of time talking about what’s called competitive karuta (kyōgi karuta, 競技カルタ in Japanese) after my first encounters, and subsequentefforts to learn to play the game. The truth is is in that in recent months, for various reasons, I’ve really started to wind down my involvement in the competitive karuta scene. I do enjoy playing karuta games, but frankly just not a very competitive person at heart, and the thought of investing what little time I have to increasingly small, incremental gains in an obscure sport doesn’t really appeal to me. I learned how to play the game, and consider myself decent at it, but the poetic side of the Hyakunin Isshu is still what appeals to me most.
Further, I realized through talking with Japanese people that a lot of people play casual karuta games, not competitive. This mundane side of karuta gaming is not featured in animé such as Chihayafuru. However it is a common past-time for people who enjoy karuta and the Hyakunin Isshu poems,1 but don’t necessarily want to invest countless hours in practice, drills, and so on. So, I wanted to explore the casual side of karuta gaming, and help casual players find ways to enjoy the game without the intense stress of competition.2
Japanese “Karuta”, especially karuta games based on the Hyakunin Isshu, come in many forms. There is a spectrum of very easy games on one end, and competitive karuta on the other. If you think of it like a video game with difficult settings, then games like bozu-mekuri are easy mode. You don’t have to know anything about the cards, it is visual only, and the rules are simple. On the other hand, competitive karuta is hard mode: you are playing against some very good players, the margin of error is very small (in higher ranks), and every bit counts including hand-techniques, card position, mental training, and so on. It’s a tough struggle, with lots of exciting moments, but sometimes also crushing defeats.
So between “easy mode” of bozu-mekuri, and “hard mode” of competitive karuta, isn’t there anything in between? Turns out, yes.
I found good examples of casual karuta games through my Hyakunin Isshu Daijiten book, mentioned here, as well as subsequent information online. Let’s look at the games of chirashi-tori and genpei gassen.
Chirashi-Tori
The game of chirashi-tori (散らし取り), meaning “scatter and take”, can be thought of as a lightweight version of competitive karuta. You don’t have to know the kimariji, but it helps, nor do you have to think about card position. In the same way, penalties don’t exist. You do need to know how to read the hiragana script though, even if slowly.
The game basically works like so:
Take all 100 torifuda cards (the ones that are not illustrated) and spread them around face up. Players sit around the pile, spread out evenly.
Similar to competitive karuta, someone else (not a player) reads a random yomifuda card (the illustrated ones). It’s customary to read the last two verses twice.
You can also use one of several nice karuta reader apps on your mobile phone too.
As the poem is being read, whoever finds it’ll the corresponding card touches it, or takes it. If they are correct, they remove the card from the field and keep it in a stack next to them, face down.
The reader then draws another card and a new round begins until there are no more cards on the field.
Whoever took the most cards by the end of the game wins. 🏆
In terms of difficulty, this is the next step up from bozu-mekuri in that you do have to be able to read hiragana, but it’s a nice first step to getting familiar with the poems with little or no training. Even though knowing the kimariji is not required, knowing some can help you recognize some cards on the field quicker.
Genpei Gassen
The name of this game comes from the climatic war in 12th-century Japanese history: the Genpei War, pitting the Genji (“Gen”) clan versus the Heike (“pei”) clan. Unlike Chirashi-tori where each person plays separately, in Genpei Gassen people divide into even teams. Ostensibly one side plays the Heike clan, and the other the Genji clan.
There are a few other differences to Chirashi-tori:
The two teams sit facing one another, with teammates sitting side by side. Ideally, 5 or 7 people will play. The odd-man-out is the reader (see below).
The 100 torifuda cards (non-illustrated ones) are evenly divided into two groups of 50. Half the cards go to one side (i.e. facing them), and the other 50 go to the other team. Arrange the cards into three rows, roughly equal.
To play the game, a separate person reads a random yomifuda card (the illustrated ones), one at a time. It’s customary to read the last two verses twice.
You can also use one of several nice karuta reader apps on your mobile phone too.
As the poem is being read, players from both sides try to find the corresponding card somewhere on the field. If someone finds the poem, they may touch it, or take it. If they are correct, they remove the card from the field and keep it in a stack, face down.
The first team to get to zero cards on their side wins. 🏆
Similar to competitive karuta, if you take a card from the opponent’s side, you send over a card from your side. This way, their number stays the same, but since you correctly took a card, your side reduces by one.
This games has the advantage of being a gentler version of competitive karuta, but still keeping the look and feel of it. As with Chirashi-tori, you will need to be able to read hiragana script, and knowing the kimariji, even some of them, gives you an advantage, but these are things you’d learn anyway from repeated play. Also, having a team develops some fun and interesting strategies.
Five Color Hyakunin Isshu
Finally, if you still want the look and feel of competitive Karuta, but an easier version, you can look at Five Color Hyakunin Isshu. This way you can play a much smaller set of cards and warm up to the full competitive version. The catch is that it requires a custom set, or you will have to make your own by customizing a standard set.
Non-Hyakunin Isshu Karuta
If, like me, you somehow get a hold of a karuta set not featuring the Hyakunin Isshu poems (there are a surprising number in Japan), the games above will still work. Many karuta sets, regardless of theme, use the same basic format: two sets of cards for reading and taking. They are all meant to be read by someone, with other players finding the correct, corresponding card.
Conclusion
The game of Karuta at heart is just that : a game. It’s a great way to savor the poetry of the Hyakunin Isshu in a fun interactive way, and the more I explore it the more I realize that there are games to suit every player. If you purchase a set, you can try any number of games with friends or even by yourself. The most important thing is HAVE FUN! If poem 96 teaches us anything, it’s that life is short.
P.S. Speaking from experience, playing
1 Fun story, in summer of 2024, I was in Japan again briefly to visit my wife’s family, and found the famous Okuno Karuta store in Tokyo. I didn’t post about it as there wasn’t much to say (I didn’t find what I was looking for, tbh). I did see a tour group of elderly Japanese people come into the store in a single mass, and many of them bought karuta goods in one form or another before leaving again. So, it’s definitely a pasttime, but not quite the way I expected when I first learned about the game.
2 I don’t mean this lightly either. Some people definitely revel in competition, but I find such situations always make me intensely nervous, and uncomfortable, even when I win. Used to feel this way about Magic the Gathering competitions too. I thought maybe it was just me until I spoke to someone Japanese who also felt that way when playing competitive karuta. They just wanted to play casual games. That’s when I started to realize that there were different games for different crowds, but all of them celebrate the Hyakunin Isshu poetry in some way.
Similarly, some people want to play Pokemon TCG or Magic the Gathering at home with friends, rather than big competitions. Other people live for the thrill of competition. There’s enough room in the game for both types of players. I personally prefer Hyakunin Isshu karuta myself.
Recently, while watching the historical drama about Lady Murasaki (poem 57, め), I was surprised to learn that there is an hand-made collection of poems by the Thirty Six Immortals of Poetry that has survived the centuries. This collection is called the Sanju-rokunin Kashu (三十六人家集, “Collection of the Thirty Six Immortals of Poetry”):
Collected poems of Minamoto no Kintada (889–948), not in the Hyakunin Isshu. See page for author, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
To recap, the Thirty Six Immortals of Poetry was list of esteemed poets in antiquity, coined by the revered poet and critic Fujiawara no Kintō (poem 55 in the Hyakunin Isshu). It was, in Kinto’s mind, the who’s-who of Japanese poetry up to that point in history. Two-thirds of the poets (24 out of 36) also appear Hyakunin Isshu, but otherwise there is no other overlap. Fujiwara no Teika clearly had differing tastes than his earlier kinsmen Kinto.
In any case, this collection was handmade in the early 12th century by ladies of the court for the birthday of Emperor Toba, and each book includes a unique design: a mix of paper collage, marbling and so on.
The pages above show collected poetry by the Buddhist priest Sosei (poem 21 of the Hyakunin Isshu). You can see the collage here, using torn pieces of paper. Below is a page of poetry by Ōshikōchi no Mitsune (poem 29) shows an example of paper marbling.
What makes the collection so amazing is that the pages aren’t just gorgeous, they often allude to some aspect of the poet in question. Some are quite obscure, some are easier for modern people to piece together. This page of poetry by Yamabe no Akahito (poem 4):
The sky-blue color with snowy looking white surfaces evoke the image of Mount Fuji, which Yamabe wrote about in the iconic 4th poem in the Hyakunin Isshu. I am not certain if they are related, but it certainly seems likely.
As for the collection itself, over the century it changed hands a few times before finally being entrusted to the Nishi Honganji Temple in Kyoto, where it remains. Sadly, one volume was dismembered and the individual sheets were sold off to private collectors by a Japanese industrialist in 1929 to raise funds for a local university, but much of the original still remains.
My historical drama does a nice job showing how the ladies in waiting carefully constructed each page, each one a personal work of art, encapsulating a different kind of art. In Japanese literature there has never been anything quite like it since. Truly brilliant stuff.
P.S. apologies for the stupid title of this post. It just popped into my head.
I wanted to share an exciting opportunity for readers. The University of Washington, my alma mater, is hosting a lecture in-person and online by none other than Professor Joshua Mostow!
Years ago, Dr Mostow graciously allowed me to use his translations of the HyakuninIsshu for this blog, and readers have hopefully enjoyed his translations over the years. We poet-enthusiasts have all benefitted from Dr Mostow’s hard work and enthusiasm for the field. Let’s show our support, and enjoy a fascinating lecture on the Hyakunin Isshu and how it impacted Japanese history in later times.
One of the most famous waka poems across Japanese history and even contemporary culture is a poem called the Iroha. The name “iroha” comes from the first three letters of the poem “i”, “ro” and “ha”. What makes this poem famous is that it uses each hiragana syllable exactly once, and still makes an intelligible, not to mention lovely, poem.
Because of this, it was often used in pre-industrial Japan as a way to organize things. Theater rows would be organized by the order in the Iroha letters, and so were firefighter brigades in pre-modern Tokyo (a.k.a. Edo). Even modern karuta sets are organized by iroha order. I don’t mean the Hyakunin Isshu karuta that I often discuss in the blog, but more informal karuta games that kids often play. We have a few sets here at home, given to us by my in-laws for the grandkids. You can see a nice selection of Iroha karuta sets on the Okuno Karuta online store, too.a
Various karuta sets my in-laws in Japan sent us. The top one is my wife’s original Hyakunin Isshu she had from grade-school.
But I digress.
The Iroha poem’s author is unknown (more on that later), but it was originally composed in old Manyogana script, like other poems of the early Manyoshu anthology, then later in hiragana. It includes many old spellings, so it’s a bit hard to render in modern Japanese.
The poem is as follows:
Manyogana
Modern Japanese
Romanization
Translation1
以呂波耳本部止
いろはにほへと
I ro ha ni ho he to
Even the blossoming flowers
千利奴流乎和加
ちりぬるをわか
chi ri nu ru o wa ka
will eventually scatter
餘多連曽津祢那
よたれそつねな
yo ta re so tsu ne na
Who in this world shall
良牟有為能於久
らむうゐのおく
ra mu u i no o ku
remain unchanged? Let us today2
耶万計不己衣天
やまけふこえて
ya ma kyo (ke fu) ko e te
cross the mountains of impermanence
阿佐伎喩女美之
あさきゆめみし
a sa ki yu me mi shi
and no longer have superficial
恵比毛勢須
ゑひもせす
e hi mo se su
dreams, nor be deluded
1 adapted translation from Wikipedia, plus a few modifications of my own 2 有為 (u i) meaning “viccisitudes of life” or the impermanence of all phenomena
This poem has strong Buddhist allusions to such concepts as samsara (“the aimless wandering lifetime after lifetime”), the delusions that bindus to this existence, awakening to these delusions (e.g. “enlightenment”), and finally nirvana (“unbinding”). The poem itself shows considerable familiarity with earlier Buddhist texts such as the Perfection of Wisdom sutras, including the Heart Sutra, as well.
But I digress. Again. 😅
There are some really interesting aspects of this poem that are worth sharing. First, authorship. Given the strongly Buddhist undertones of the poem, it’s often been attributed to a famous Buddhist monk named Kukai (a.k.a. Kobo Daishi) who was a talented poet and calligrapher. Another theory states that this poem may attributed to none other than the famous court poet Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, who composed poem 3 in the Hyakunin Isshu (あしびきの).
But things get even more interesting.
Scholars have noted that if you take the last syllable of each line (highlighted above for convenience) it spells another sentence: toka (ga) nakute shisu (咎[が]無くて死す) meaning “he/she died without fault or blemish”. Another theory, mentioned in my new book, points out that the 5th column spells out ho(n) wo tsu no ko me (本を津の小女), which could mean “deliver this book to my wife in the town of Tsu”, which if taken together with the 7th column implies that “I will die without blemish, please deliver this poem to my wife”.
So, is the poem a tribute to someone else? Perhaps Kukai or Hitomaro? If so, then who wrote it, and why? Was the poem a coded message to someone who was executed for political reasons? Or was the poem simply an attempt at word-play?
We will never know, but the impact of the Iroha on Japanese poem can still be easily seen today.
a Although things like Chihayafuru and this blog tend to emphasize the competitive karuta of the Hyakunin Isshu, in reality that’s only a small subset of karuta gaming culture. Most of it is much more informal stuff you play at home with family, much like board games in Western culture, and often times doesn’t even relate to the Hyakunin Isshu. Maybe I’ll post about it some time, but thanks to grandparents in Japan, we have 4-5 sets here ranging from such subjects as places in the city of Kamakura, old folks-sayings, Japanese fairy-tales, and just really basic words in Japanese. Most of these list the cards using iroha-order, and are not related to the Hyakunin Isshu. We’ve played them with our kids from time to time, and they’re much easier than competitive karuta, though it’s still assumed you know at least some basic Japanese.
Ever since I picked up this book which explores the Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon (poem 62 of the Hyakunin Isshu, よを), it’s been fun to learn many of the hidden meanings and cultural allusions of this famous literary work.
It’s also fun to see how the Pillow Book is viewed by Japanese students in Japan. I talked with my wife and her friends about it, and they confirmed that kids in Japan study the Pillow Book in school, but like all students everywhere, they tend to forget most of it.1 My book jokes that most students in Japan only remember the very first line: haru wa akebono.
I bring this up because with the recent changing of the weather, I’ve been thinking a lot about seasons, especially after writing this post. So, I went back and looked at the first chapter of the Pillow Book.
The opening section begins with Sei Shonagon’s analysis of the four seasons, and what’s great about each one. This website posts the original text in Japanese (tl;dr it’s fairly different than modern Japanese) and even has a nice recording. It’s worth a listen, even if archaic Japanese is not your hobby.
Separately, if you want to hear how it was pronounced at the time you can see this video (00:47 onward):
Anyhow, let’s look at how Sei Shonagon describes each of the four seasons, starting with Spring…
Natsu wa yoru. Tsuki no koro wa sarinari. Yami mo nao, hotaru no ooku tobichigaitaru. Mata, tada hitsotsu futatsu nado, honoka ni uchi hikarite iku mo, okashi. Ame nado furu mo, okashi.
“In summer, the night — moonlight nights, of course, but also as the dark of the moon, it’s beautiful when fireflies are dancing everywhere in a mazy flight. And it’s delightful too to see just one or two fly through the darkness, glowing softly. Rain falling on a summer night is also lovely.”
Aki wa yuugure. Yuuhi no sashite, yama no hai to chikau nari taru ni, karasu no nedokoro e ikutote, mitsu, yotsu, futatsu mitsu nado, tobiisogu sae awarenari. Maite, kari nado no tsuranetaru ga, ito chiisaku miyuru wa, itokashi. Hiirihatete, kaze no oto, mushi no ne nado, hata, iiubeki ni arazu.
“In autumn, the evening — the blazing sun has sunk very close to the mountain rim, and now even the crows, in threes and fours or twos and threes, hurrying to their roost, are a moving sight. Still more enchanting is the sight of a string of wild geese in the distant sky, very tiny. And oh how inexpressible, when the sun has sunk, to hear in the growing darkness the wind, and the song of autumn insects.”
Fuyu wa tsutomete. Yuki no furitaru wa, iubeki ni mo arazu. Shimo no ito shiroki mo. Mata sara demo, itso samuki ni, hi nado isogi okoshite, sumi motewataru mo, ito tsukizuki shi. Hiru ni narite, nurukuyurubi moteikeba, hioke no hi mo, shiroki hai ga chininarite, waroshi.
“In winter, the early morning — if snow is falling, of course, it’s unutterably delightful, but it’s perfect too if there’s a pure white frost, or even just when it’s very cold, and they hasten to build up the fires in the braziers and carry fresh charcoal. But it’s unpleasant, as the day draws on and the air grows warmer, how the brazier fire dies down to white ash.”
As someone who likes to “nerd out” about such things, I try to shorten this to the following for easier memorization:
Spring: haru wa akebono (spring daybreak)
Summer: natsu wa yoru (summer nights)
Fall: aki wa yuugure (fall sunsets)
Winter: huyu wa tsutomete (early winter morning)
… and now you too know some authentic Japanese literature from the Heian Period.
1 Despite being a nerd now, I was actually a pretty lazy student in school. I was assigned to read various English classics like Ivanhoe, Treasure Island, etc, but usually didn’t read them, and faked my way through exams and such. My grades were mostly C’s and even some D’s. In high school, I finally took an interest in reading after picking up J.R.R. Tolkein’s Fellowship of the Ring, and have loved reading since. Looking back, I suppose a chaotic home life, and also just lack of structure and inspiration were to blame.
As I wrote previously, I have been spending a lot of time trying find more effective training methods for myself and for new, foreign Karuta players because of the scarcity of resources. One website that has been particularly helpful in Japanese is Karuta Club, managed by the Meijin (master player) Kawase Masayoshi and his wife.
It’s a pretty nice site and has a ton of training and resources, though almost all of it is in Japanese. There is a nice English-language introduction that is worth reading.
But for this post I wanted to focus on one particularly helpful article. This teaches a method of memorization called nakama-waké.
The method seems a bit complicated upfront but really helps in those 15 minutes (or 30 seconds on the app) when you have to memorize the board, and uses knowledge you probably already know: the kimari-ji.
Let’s look at my kimari-ji chart here. You can see how the cards are group by first syllable : “ha” cards, “tsu” cards, “ki” cards, “wa” cards and so on.
Kawase’s article suggests that after you learn the kimari-ji, next invest time memorizing how many are in each group. If you look at the chart, there are only two cards in the “tsu” (つ) group, compared to seven in the “wa” (わ) group, or 16 in the “a” (あ) group. Some groups are very large, some are very small.
Let’s use the examples of the “ha” group. From the chart we can see that there are four cards that start with “ha” (は):
If we remember that the “ha” group has 4 cards total, and when you are memorizing at the start of the match, you can determine which of the four are on the board. The rest can be safely ignored as kara-fuda (“empty cards”).
This separation of similar cards (“friends”) between the ones on the board and the ones that aren’t is why this is called nakama-waké (仲間わけ): “separating friends”.
Using the online karuta app, let’s demonstrate this. Here’s a game I played earlier, using default settings: 8 cards per side, only 30 seconds to memorize. The cards are all laid out, and my opponent (the computer) and I are memorizing.
Of the four “ha” cards, I can see two on the board, highlighted in purple. The two cards are “haruno” (はるの) on my side and “harusu” (はるす) on the opponent’s side. That means the other two in the group “hanano” (はなそ) and “hanasa” (はなさ) can be totally ignored if they are read aloud. That helps me avoid accidentally taking the wrong “ha” card and getting a penalty.
While we’re here, you might notice that both “shi” (し) cards are on the board, highlighted in green: “shira” (しら) and “shino” (しの). Even better they are on my side. That means I can just put group them together and simply listen for “shi” (し). Of course, the danger is that the opponent knows this too. Position matters.
Similarly, both cards of the “tsu” (つ) group are on the board too, highlighted in red. They are on opposite sides of the board though, so I still have to be careful to distinguish which is which when read. But it also means there are no “empty” tsu cards either.
Finally, of the seven unique “one syllable” cards, only one of them is on the board: “sa” (さ) which I’ve highlighted in blue. That means I can totally ignore the other six: “mu” (む), “su” (す), “me” (め), “fu” (ふ), “ho” (ほ) and “se” (せ) if they are read.
This may seem like more work upfront, and it does take time to get used to thinking like this, but it really helps in a couple ways:
Your memorization process is more structured, less haphazard, and so you can memorize a full board of 50 cards more easily.
Less risk of penalties because you’re only paying attention to the cards you know are on the board per group, and disregarding the rest.
If you’re relatively new to karuta and you find this process intimidating, you can focus on smaller, easier groups of cards for now: the one, two, and three card groups. With experience, and familiarity, you can then expand to larger, more difficult groups and even use this trick with the huge “a” group.
As fall is approaching, I wanted to share an interesting anecdote provided by my book on the Manyoshu. It seems that throughout Japanese antiquity, poets frequently debated which is better: spring or fall.
The first example comes from Princess Nukata in the 7th century, whom we discussed here and here, she wrote a lengthy poem (a chōka poem, not the usual tanka poem) in the Manyoshu (poem 16). She discusses the pros and cons of spring and of fall:
Original Manyogana1
Japanese
Romanization
Rough Translation2
冬木成 春去來者
冬ごもり 春さり來れば
Fuyu gomori haru sari kureba
When winter passes and spring comes
不喧有之 鳥毛来鳴奴
鳴かざりし鳥も來鳴きぬ
Nakazarishi tori mo nakinu
Birds that didn’t sing before, now come and sing
不開有之 花毛佐家礼抒 山乎茂
咲かざりし 花も咲けれど 山を茂み
Sakazarishi hana mo sakeredo yama wo shigemi
Flowers that didn’t bloom before now bloom, but because the mountains grass is so thick
入而毛不取 草深 執手母不見
入りても取らず 草深み 取り手も見ず
Irite mo torazu kusabukami torite me mizu
One cannot go and pick flowers, let alone see them.
秋山乃 木葉乎見而者
秋山の 木の葉を見ては
Aki yama no ko no ba wo mite wa
When you look at the leaves in the mountains during fall,
黄葉乎婆 取而曾思努布
黄葉をば 取りてそしのふ
Momiji wo ba torite soshi no fu
collecting the yellow leaves is especially prized.
青乎者 置而曾歎久
青きをば 置きてそ歎く
Aoki wo ba okite so nageku
Leaving the green leaves as they are is regrettable.
曾許之恨之 秋山吾者
そこし恨めし 秋山われは
Sokoshi urameshi akiyama ware wa
In spite of that, autumn in the mountains is spectacular…
a – I am heavily indebted to this site for both the original text. Translation is based in part on that site, but also my Manyoshu book, but probably lots of mistakes. Translating a five-line poem in archaic Japanese is hard enough… 😅
Speaking of the Manyoshu, its compiler Otomo no Yakamochi (poem 6 of the Hyakunin Isshu, かさ) left us some very nice poetry about spring:
Original Manyogana1
Japanese
Romanization
Rough Translation2
春苑
春の苑
Haru no sono
Beneath
紅尓保布
紅にほふ
Kurenai ni hofu
the shining crimson
桃花
桃の花
Momo no hana
orchard of
下照道尓
下照る道に
Shita deru michi ni
peach blossoms
出立オ嬬
出で立つ少女
Idetatsu otome
a young maiden lingers.
Poem 4139, book 19
and about fall:
Original Manyogana1
Japanese
Romanization
Rough Translation2
秋去者
秋さらば
Aki saraba
When fall comes
見乍思跡
見つつ思へと
Mitsutsu shinoe to
think fondly of those
妹之殖之
妹が植ゑし
Imo ga ue shi
pink blossoms
屋前乃石竹
やどのなでしこ
Yado no nadeshiko
of days gone by
開家流香聞
咲きにけるかも
Saki ni keru kamo
and remember me.
Poem 464, book 3
Otomo no Yakamochi wrote both of these poems about his beloved wife, but the second was composed shortly after her parting. The word nadeshiko has special meaning in Japan and has a very feminine, demure3 meaning.
Returning to the debate between spring and fall, Ki no Tsurayuki (poem 35 of the Hyakunin Isshu, ひとは) took up the same topic centuries later. This is poem 509 from an imperial anthology, the Shuishu :
Japanese
Romanization
Rough Translation2
春秋に
Haru aki ni
Spring or Fall?
おもひみたれて
Omoi mitarete
My thoughts are a mess,
わきかねつ
Waki kanetsu
and I cannot decide.
時につけつつ
Toki ni tsuketsutsu
The more time passes,
うつるこころは
Utsuru kokoro wa
the more my heart shifts back and forth.
1 This is a rough translation, all mistakes are my own.
The debate was even cited in the famous 12th century novel Tales of Genji written by Lady Murasaki (poem 57 of the Hyakunin Isshu, め):
“Since antiquity, in the debate about spring versus fall, many people lean toward fall, and yet some very noteworthy people who view the Imperial gardens in spring may yet change their mind, as is the way of the world.”
Princess Nukata all the way back in the Manyoshu seemed to imply that autumn was preferable, and it seems that most of the aristocracy shared this view. In fact if we divide up the poems of the Hyakunin Isshu by season, there are more fall poems than spring:
Note: summer only has 4 poems, winter has 9 (same as spring).
But what do you think? Are you Team Spring, or Team Fall?
Edit: added Hyakunin Isshu poetry chart.
1 If you’re wondering why I post Manyogana for some poems, but not others, it depends on the era. The Manyoshu is the oldest anthology by far, and at that time, there was a brief writing system that took Chinese characters, but used them in a phonetic way for Japanese language (a.k.a. Manyogana). By the time of Ki no Tsurayuki and Lady Murasaki, centuries later, this had been replaced with hiragana script. This blog strives to both be accurate and accessible, so I try to balance both needs.
2 These are all rough translations on my part, and likely have mistakes. Any such mistakes are entirely my own.
3 Not to be confused with the “very demure, very mindful” meme. 😛
If you are learning to play karuta there are plenty of resources in Japanese language, but outside of that, there’s almost nothing. This is understandable since karuta has only very recently become known outside of Japan, but it still challenging for foreign players to develop good foundations. So, although I am a casual novice myself, I try to share what I find.
One training method used in Japan, especially for children learning to play in school, is the Five Color (go-shiki, 五色) Hyakunin Isshu method. This is a way of color-coding the 100 poems of the Hyakunin Isshu into five groups of 20, based on relative difficulty to learn. I have posted about it before but didn’t have a set to try out and demonstrate.
Since I was in Japan earlier this year with the family (visiting in-laws), I decided to get a boxed set for myself. They are hard to obtain outside of Japan, and I had to order directly from the Oishi Tengudo. My package soon arrived at my in-laws house,1 and later I brought them home and opened up the box.
The set is very nicely put together. It comes in separate boxes for the reading cards, yomifuda, and corresponding the cards you take, torifuda.
Torifuda cards on the left, and yomifuda cards on the right.
Because the Five Color Hyakunin Isshu is mostly geared for children (and not nerdy middle-aged foreigners 😅), the illustrations have a cute, cartooinish quality, and the hiragana script uses a very readable font. Notice that the card borders have colors too: yellow and red in the pictures above.
Something that surprised me was that the back of the torifuda cards, which are usually not seen during play, also show the first half of the Hyakunin Isshu poems, with the kimari-ji emphasized. This saves new players the hassle of having to go and look up what the kimari-ji are.
Poem 15 shown in yellow on the left, and poem 65 in red on the right.
Also, if you get a set like this, and you use a Karuta reader app to read only that color. Many reader apps have readings sets specifically for the Five Color Hyakunin Isshu, however, the Oishi Tengudo set divides its cards differently, and so the sets in karuta apps are not the same. You have to make your own custom sets like I did here.
So, does it work as a training method? Is it worth foreign players going to the effort to getting one of these sets?
I haven’t had a chance to field-test yet, especially with new karuta players, so I don’t know. Some foreign players online have derided the five-color method, and instead advocated other learning methods (more on those in later posts), but unfortunately I don’t have enough data to say which works. Since I have already self-learned karuta (more or less), I can’t really use myself as a test.
That said, the resources above are really nice, and since they’re geared for children, they provide a nice, gentle introduction to playing karuta. You do need to read hiragana script, but if you’re intending to play karuta, you need to know hiragana anyway. It is also one way to start with learning a smaller subnet of the 100 poems, with increasing difficulty as you move between colors.
I am eager to try this out the next time I meet with the local karuta club.
1 I also ordered a yomite card set for reading purposes. I’ve written about that in a previous post.
The Hyakunin Isshu 
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