Cherry Blossoms in Unexpected Places: Poem Number 66

Now that Spring is finally here, and cherry blossoms are blooming in Japan, I thought this poem was especially fitting:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
もろともに	Morotomo ni	Let us think of each
あはわれと思へえ	Aware to omoe	other fondly,
山桜	Yama-zakura	O mountain cherries!
花より外に	Hana yori hoka ni	For, outside of your blossoms,
知る人もなし	Shiru hito mo nashi	there’s no one who knows my feelings.

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The poem was composed by Saki no Daisōjō Gyōson (前大僧正行尊, 1055 – 1135), or “Former Major Archbishop Gyōson”, who according to Mostow, was a famed yamabushi or mountain ascetic, who dwelt on Mount Ōmine near Nara for a long time. He was the great-grandson of Emperor Sanjo (poem 68), and also a very prolific author in his day.

At the age of 10, his father passed away, and by age 12, Gyōson took tonsure at the Buddhist temple of Mii-dera, a major temple of the powerful Tendai sect. According to one episode in my new book, Gyōson had a reputation for being an expert at supplication of the Buddhist deities (lit. kaijikitō 加持祈禱). According to one story, when the newborn baby of Emperor Toba suddenly stopped breathing. Gyōson beseeched the gods, and somehow saved the baby, gaining trust of the Imperial family.

As for the poem, Mostow comments that the poem itself is fairly straightforward, but the poem’s headnote has confused many scholars over time, stating that it was composed “when he saw cherry blossoms unexpectedly at Ōmine.” Was it the time of year, or the location that made it so unexpected? No one really knows for sure.

Also, the term yamazakura (山桜) refers to mountain cherry blossoms. This is a wild variety of cherry blossom that differs from the typical cherry blossoms (somei-yoshino) often seen in gardens. The blossoms are more whitish than pink in color, and bloom at the same time that the leaves do.

Mount Ōmine (大峰山) near Nara was, among places, a popular mountain retreat for yamabushi practitioners. The phrase morotomoni means “you and me”, and implies intimate familiarity.

But, the joy of seeing cherry blossoms at this time of year is hard to deny. 🙂

P.S. Featured photo shows mountain cherry blossoms in Gunma Prefecture, Japan, taken by mahlervv, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Memories of the Old Capitol: Poem Number 61

Sorry for the lengthy hiatus everyone. Been a long couple of weeks, but I am excited to post this poem in honor of women poets this month, and timely because of the coming of spring:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
いにしへえの	Inishie no	The eight-petalled cherries
奈良の都の	Nara no miyako no	from the Nara capital
八重え桜	Yae-zakura	of the ancient past
けふきょう九重えに	Kyo kokonoe ni	today nine layers thick
にほひおいぬるかな	Nioi nuru kana	have bloomed within your court!

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

Isé no Tayū (伊勢大輔, dates unknown), also known in English as “Lady Ise” was another lady in waiting for Empress Shoshi, as was Lady Murasaki (poem 57) and Lady Izumi (poem 56), but was the newbie apparently.

According to Lady Ise’s own diary, she had to present a poem on the fly to the Bishop from the ancient capital of Nara and its Buddhist institutions, who had brought a lovely eight-petaled cherry blossom as a gift. This variety of cherry blossom is known as yae-zakura (八重桜) in Japanese. Further, the capitol of Japan had moved to Kyoto centuries earlier, but people in Kyoto still looked back to Nara at times for nostalgic reasons. Empress Shoshi’s father, Fujiwara no Michinaga (the same one mentioned in Lady Murasaki’s diary) had asked Lady Murasaki to compose the poem, but for reasons not understood, she deferred to Lady Ise because she was new.

Thankfully, her poem was a success. As Professor Mostow notes, it does a really nice job balancing the “ancient” with the modern, and the eight petals of the blossom with the metaphorical nine-layers of the Imperial court.

No wonder she made the inner-circle of Empress Shoshi. 😌

Happy Spring everyone!

P.S. Nara is a pretty awesome place to visit in Japan, definitely recommend.

P.P.S. Featured photo is of cherry blossoms at the University of Washington in 2022, taken by me

Past Her Prime: Poem Number 9

For the first poem for March’s “women only” theme, I chose this poem, one of the earliest by a female author (after Empress Jitō, poem 2), but also one of the most famous:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
花の色は	Hana no iro wa	The color of flowers
うつりにけりな	Utsuri ni keri na	has faded indeed
いたづずらに	Itazura ni	in vain
わが身世にふる	Waga mi yo ni furu	have I passed through the world
ながめせしまに	Nagame seshi ma ni	while gazing at the falling rains.

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, Ono no Komachi (小野小町, dates unknown), is one of the most celebrated women of Japanese antiquity for both her reputed beauty and her poetry. She is one of the original Six Immortals of Poetry and the later Thirty-Six Immortals, and was said to have had relationships with various men, including Henjō (poem 12), and Fun’ya Yasuhide (poem 22) among others.

Reading this poem is something of an intimate look at the fear many women (and men, see poem 96) face then as much as now: the fear of getting old. For someone who was beautiful as Ono no Komachi, the loss may have been even more distressing.

Mostow describes this poem featured in the Hyakunin Isshu as a “technical tour-de-force”: the third line, meaning “in vain”, could technically modify either the previous line, or the one after, or both. Also, the poem uses word-play around furu which could mean to either “fall (as in rain)” or “to pass time”, while nagame could mean both “to gaze lost in thought” or “long rains” (長雨, naga-ame as Mostow explains). Further, this poem has been the object of much debate because of all the possible ways to interpret it, and is one of the most iconic in the anthology both for its technical prowess, but also it’s poignant message.

There are many legends that circulated in medieval Japan about Ono no Komachi’s good looks and her cruelty to men. In one famous story, she promised to love a certain suitor if he visited her 100 nights in a row. He completed 99 visits, but failed one night to visit her, and was so distraught that he fell ill and died. Ono no Komachi’s life and legends, including her decline, grew to become the subject of many Nō plays and art. Even 19th century woodblock prints depicted Ono no Komachi in her twilight years:

Yoshitoshi, *One Hundred Aspects of the Moon*, woodblock print #25, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

However, if you look at her other poems, mostly found in the Imperial anthology, the Kokin Wakashū, you can see she was more caring and sensitive than legend implies:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
思ひつつ	Omoitsutsu	Tormented by love
寝ればや人の	Nurebaya hito no	I slept and saw him near me —
見えつらむ	Mietsuran	had I known my love’s
夢と知りせば	Yume to shiriseba	visit was but a dream I
覚めざらましを	Samezaramashi o	should never have awakened.

Poem 552 in the Kokin Wakashū, translation by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius in Kokinshu: A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern.

and:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
わびぬれば	Wabinureba	I have sunk to the
身をうき草の	Mi o ukikusa no	bottom and like the rootless
根を絶えて	Ne o taete	shifting water weeds
誘ふ水あらば	Sasou mizu araba	should the currents summon me
いなんとぞ思ふ	Inan to zo omou	I too would drift away

Poem 938 in the Kokin Wakashū, translation by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius in Kokinshu: A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern.

So, Ono no Komachi wasn’t just a pretty face past her prime, she was a smart woman with a sharp wit, and a more sensitive side as well.

Winter Isolation: Poem Number 28

Winter’s always a quiet, lonely time (just ask Sei Shonagon):

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
山里は	Yamazato wa	In the mountain village,
冬ぞさびしさ	Fuyu zo sabishisa	it is in winter that my loneliness
まさりける	Masari-keru	increases most,
人めも草も	Hitome mo kusa mo	when I think how both have dried up,
かれぬと思へえば	Karenu to omoeba	the grasses and people’s visits.

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

According to Mostow, this poem was composed in answer to the question of whether Fall or Winter was the lonelier season. Obviously the author, Minamoto no Muneyuki Ason (源宗于朝臣, ? – 939), “Sir Minamoto no Muneyuki”, favored winter. Minamoto no Muneyuki was the grandson of Emperor Kōkō (poem 15) and had a large portfolio of poems published in official anthologies, and earned himself a place among the Thirty Six Immortals of Poetry as well.

To me at least, the poem reminds me also of nobleman from the Heian Court who were required to do at least one tour of duty in remote provinces as a provincial governor for 4 years. The more remote the province, the more menial and degrading the task. Very well-to-do men could usually get themselves out of this obligation but most middle and lower ranking officials could not. Being cut off from the Heian Court was often a lonely affair as evinced in the writings of men like Sugawara no Michizane and others so imagine the author was also conveying this familiar sense of the time of loneliness officials stuck in a remote mountain village away from the Court in winter and from friends.

Feeling Like Late Fall: Poem Number 29

November marks the last throes of Fall, and so with the recent cold here in the Pacific Northwest, I thought this poem seemed really fitting:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
心あてに	Kokoroate ni	Must it be by chance,
折おらばや折おらむん	Orabaya oran	if I am to pluck one, that I pluck it? —
初霜の	Hatsushimo no	white chrysanthemums
おきまどはわせる	Oki madowaseru	on which the first frost
白菊の花	Shiragiku no hana	lies bewilderingly.

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

According to my new book, Ōshikōchi no Mitsuné (凡河内躬恒, dates unknown) was a middling bureaucrat in the Imperial Court, serving in provinces such as Tanba, Izumi, and Awaji, but never reaching beyond the sixth rank in the Court hierarchy. Nobility usually were fifth rank or higher by default so he hit the “glass ceiling” so to speak.

On the other hand, Mitsune was very prodigious poet and his works appear in many later anthologies in Japanese history, and is also one of the compilers of the famous Kokinshū anthology, a prestigious honor. Not surprisingly he is among the Thirty-Six Immortals of Poetry too.

Professor Mostow notes that this poem is subject to many different interpretations ranging from simple word-repetition, to rhetorical questions or the speaker’s mental debate.

In any case, the imagery of white frost on white chrysanthemum’s, and how it’s hard to distinguish one from the other, is in large part why this poem is so highly prized in antiquity, and made it into the Hyakunin Isshu anthology. However, the 19th century poet Masaoka Shiki criticized the imagery as unrealistic. But my new book points out that that probably wasn’t the point. Mitsuné was trying to be surreal in his imagery and that the poem executes this brilliantly.

But you decide: is the imagery of first frost on a white chrysanthemum too much? Or is it brilliant imagery?

P.S. Since antiquity, September 9th has been the Day of the Chrysanthemum in Japan, mirroring a similar festival in China.

Come See the Fall Leaves: Poem Number 26

Now that fall is full swing this poem seemed fitting:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
小お倉山	Ogurayama	O autumn leaves
みねのもみぢじ葉	Mine no mojijiba	on the peak of Ogura Hill,
心あらば	Kokoro araba	if you have a heart,
今ひとたびの	Ima hitotabi no	I would that you would wait
みゆき待たなむん	Miyuki matanan	for one more royal progress.

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of this poem is Teishinkō (貞信公, 880-949), also known as Fujiwara no Tadahira, a scion of the increasingly powerful Fujiwara clan. The name “Teishinkō” is his posthumous name. The Fujiwara clan’s descendants grew increasingly powerful and ultimately monopolized the government during the Heian Period through intermarriage with the Imperial Family. By this point, you also may have noticed the increasing number of poets in the Hyakunin Isshu with the surname Fujiwara, gradually crowding out other noble families within the Imperial Court.

As Mostow notes, this poem seems to describe an excursion to the Ōi River by retired emperor (上皇, jōkō), Emperor Uda, who comments that his son the reigning emperor (天皇, tennō), Emperor Daigo, should visit too. Hence the author is beseeching the fall leaves to wait for Daigo’s arrival. This visit seems to have led to a seasonal tradition of visiting the Ōi River yearly by the Imperial Family. Further, compare this poem to a similar fall (poem 24), when Uda was still the reigning emperor.

Also, it should be noted that Ogura Mountain is none other than the place where the Hyakunin Isshu itself was compiled.

Side note: there are in fact two Oi Rivers in Japan, one near Kyoto the old capitol, and another in modern Shizuoka Prefecture. Due to location of the Imperial Court, the Emperor and his retinue almost certain visited the near Kyoto. It is, as the photo above helps illustrate, a very scenic and venerable of Japan. It is also mentioned in the Pillow Book by Sei Shonagon (poem 62) in note 59 under “Rivers”.

One other note: the term miyuki in the poem refers to an imperial outing. Such an outing was, naturally, an important occasion and so it has its own term in Japanese. According to the Hyakunin Isshu Daijiten, the “kanji” Chinese characters for miyuki differ if a retired emperor has an outing (御幸), or the current reigning emperor has an outing (行幸).

P.S. Featured photo is the Togetsukyo Bridge near the Ōi River which passes through the Arashiyama district of Kyoto. Photo taken by me in August of 2024.

Poetry as Wordplay: Poem Number 22

The twenty-second poem in the Hyakunin Isshu is a brilliant example of word-play:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
ふくからに	Fuku kara ni	As soon as it blows,
秋の草木の	Aki no kusaki no	the autumn trees and grasses
しをおるれば	Shiorureba	droop, and this must be why,
むべ山風を	Mube yama kaze o	quite rightly, the mountain wind
あらしといふうらむん	Arashi to iuran	is called “the ravager.”

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by Fun’ya no Yasuhidé (文屋康秀, ? – 879?), but according to Mostow, it is known that he lived around the time Narihira (poem 17) and Sosei (poem 21). He is also one of the Six Immortals of Poetry. My new book points out that he was upper-sixth rank in the Imperial bureaucracy, a middling rank, so he was a somewhat minor official. And yet as a poet, he achieved great fame.

Yasuhide was also known for carrying on a tryst with Ono no Komachi (poem 9) and invited her to come away with on a retreat to Mikawa Province. She reportedly accepted the offer but other details of the story are unclear.

In any case, from the English translation, it’s hard to see what is so remarkable about this poem, until you look at the last two lines.

The fourth line talks about mountains 山 and wind 風, but the fifth line mentions the word arashi (あらし) which means “storm” and whose kanji (chinese character) is composed of both mountain and wind 嵐. It makes even more sense when you see it on karuta card (yomifuda) for this poem:

Circled in blue is the word *arashi* (あらし) using hiragana script, but in red are the Chinese characters for mountain and wind. When looked at closely, they also look like the Chinese character for *arashi* (嵐).

According to the Hyakunin Isshu Daijiten, this poetic method, called moji-asobi (文字遊び) is not limited to this poem, or even Japanese poetry. It appears to be a poetic method employed originally in China, and adopted by early Japanese poets. For example, in the first Imperial anthology, the Kokin Wakashu, you can find this poem by Ki no Tomonori (poem 33 in the Hyakunin Isshu):

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
雪降れば	Yuki fureba	Because the snow fell
木毎に花ぞ	Kigoto ni hana zo	White “blossoms”, one by one,
吹きにける	Fukinikeru	Sprout on the tree.
いづれを梅と	Izure wo ume to	How am I to tell the blossoms from the snow
わきて折らまし	Wakite oramashi	Without snapping them off?

Rough translation by me, based on Hyakunin Isshu Daijiten

Here, the word for plums (as well as plum blossoms), umé 梅, is made up of the Chinese characters 木 and 毎 which happen to appear on the second line of the poem.

Pretty clever, really.

In any case, the Hyakunin Isshu Daijiten and Professor Mostow both point out that the word arashi also has a double-meaning. The basic meaning is “storm”, but it is also the noun-form of the verb arasu meaning to ravage, hence the translation above: arashi (荒らし).

Amazing what people could do with a few lines of verse and some Chinese characters. It’s no surprise that the author, Fun’ya no Yasuhide, was counted among the original Six Immortals of Poetry and later the Thirty-Six Immortals.

P.S. Kind of been a while, good to be back. 🙂

P.P.S. Featured photo is a different “Arashi“, photo by Japanese Station, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

A Thousand Swift Swords: Poem Number 17

One of the most famous and recognizable poems in the Hyakunin Isshu is poem 17:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
千早ぶる	Chihayaburu	Unheard of
神代もきかず	Kamiyo mo kikazu	even in the legendary age
龍田川がわ	Tatsuta-gawa	of the awesome gods:
からくれなゐいに	Karakurenai ni	Tatsuta River in scarlet
水みずくくるとは	Mizu kukuru to wa	and the water flowing under it.

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The poet, Ariwara no Narihara Ason (在原業平朝臣, 825 – 990) or “Sir Ariwara no Narihara”, was the closest thing to a poetic genius during his time, and this poem is a prime example. Originally published in the Imperial anthology, the Kokin Wakashū, as poem number 294, it is considered one of the most iconic of the one-hundred Hyakunin Isshu poems.

Narihara is also credited for writing what is considered the greatest Waka poem on cherry blossoms (桜, sakura) ever composed:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
世の中に	Yo no naka ni	If in all the world
絶えて桜の	Taete sakura no	there were of cherry blossoms
なかりせば	Kanariseba	no trace anywhere
春の心は	Haru no kokoro wa	ah, how truly peaceful then
のどけからまし	Nodokekaramashi	spring would be for everyone!

Translation by Dr Josha Mostow and Dr Royall Tyler from the Ise Stories, the poem is also number 53 in the Kokin Wakashū.

Not surprisingly, Narihira was thus considered one of the Six Immortals of Poetry.

Returning to this poem, there is a lot to unpack. The imagery of red, autumn leaves flowing along the river provides a very memorable contrast. The Tatsuta-gawa River can be found in modern-day Nara Prefecture, and is a scenic, gentle flowing river near the town of Ikaruka. I’d love to see it someday. I cover more about the Tatsuta-gawa River and iconic Mt Mimuro in poem 69, but several poems in the Kokin Wakashū anthology also refer to fall leaves floating on it.

Also, it should be noted that the fourth line is an example of a traditional Japanese color word.

Lastly, the opening line of this poem, chihayaburu, is a prime example of “pillow words” in Japanese poetry. It literally means something like “a thousand swift swords”, but really is an honorific epithet when referring to the gods, similar to how Homer used to use special epithets for each of the Olympian gods. Nevertheless, it’s a famous line, and can be found in Waka poetry written even in modern times, and is also the title of the popular manga exploring the Hyakunin Isshu card game.

If there is one poem worth learning in all the Hyakunin Isshu, I would argue, it is this one.

Summer Weather: Poem Number 2

One of my favorite poems in all the Hyakunin Isshu is also one of the first:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
春過ぎて	Haru sugite	Spring has passed, and
夏来にけらし	Natsu ki ni kerashi	summer has arrived, it seems
白たへえの	Shirotae no	Heavenly Mount Kagu
衣ほすてふちょう	Koromo hosu chō	where, it is said, they dry robes
天あまの香具山	Ama no Kaguyama	of the whitest mulberry!

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of this iconic poem was Jitō Tennō (持統天皇, 645 – 702) known in English as Empress Jitō. Originally Princess Unonosarara, she was the daughter of Emperor Tenji (poem 1), and later his sister-in-law after Tenji forced her to marry his brother (later Emperor Tenmu). In any case, she became the Empress after her husband Tenmu died, and reigned for 11 years. Female emperors were quite rare in Japanese history, by the way, so her reign was pretty noteworthy. Empress Jito proved to be a powerful and effective empress, a patron of the arts who promoted cherry-blossom viewing, completed the new capital of Fujiwara-kyō, but also ruthless toward potential political rivals as well as in the case of her step-son/nephew Prince Otsu.

This poem in general causes a lot of headaches for commentators and translators over generations because of the confusing relation between certain lines. Further, a second slightly different version of the poem exists in the Manyoshu poetry anthology (book 1, poem 28), with differences highlighted:

Original Manyogana	Japanese	Romanization	Translation adapted from Dr Mostow’s¹
春過而	春過ぎて	Haru sugite	Spring has passed, and
夏来良之	夏来るらし	Natsu kitaru rashi	summer is coming, it seems
白妙能	白たへえの	Shirotae no	Heavenly Mount Kagu
衣乾有	衣干したり	Koromo hoshitari	where, it is said, they are drying robes
天之香来山	天あめの香具山	Ame no kaguyama	of the whitest mulberry!

¹ Special thanks to “Cameron” for helpful insights in making sense of the alternate version. Also, any translation mistakes are my own, not Dr Mostow’s.

According to Mostow, there’s a lot of uncertainty about what’s being dried, what does it stand for, and whether the scene is directly observed or not. One further note about the pillow word shirotae (白妙) in the third line, Mostow explains that the word tahe/tae refers to a kind of Paper Mulberry plant. So this is not just paper, but gleaming white paper.

Also, where is this famous Mount Kagu? Mount Kagu, more formally known as Amanokagu in Japanese,² is one of three peaks called the Yamato Sanzan (大和三山, Three Peaks of [old] Yamato) or the Sanrinzan (三輪山) which are pictured here. These mountains are:

畝傍山, Unebi-yama
耳成山, Miminashi-yama
天香具山, Ama-no-kaguyama (e.g. Mount Kagu)

Yamato is among the oldest parts of Japan as we know it, so these mountains, while small by standards of Mt. Fuji, have held important cultural significance since the beginning. Since antiquity, it was believed that all three mountains were inhabited by Shinto kami,³ and thus sacred spaces. Miminashi-yama and Ama-no-kaguyama were said to be inhabited by male kami, who competed for the affection of Unebi-yama, a female kami.

Ama-no-kaguyama with purple Cosmos flowers in the foreground. The remnants of the ancient capital of Fujiwara-kyo can also be seen to the right. Photograph by Ajax, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The ancient imagery of such a venerable old mountain, couple with such vivid imagery of a sunny, warm summer day are among the reasons why I like this poem so much. 🙂

² The Manyoshu version of the poem alternatively spells it as ame-no-kaguyama, which is an obscure though valid way to read 天. I am not sure why both versions of the poem are read slightly differently.

³ Although kami is usually translated as a “god” in English, it helps to think of them more like ancient Greek gods, than the modern concept. Ancient Greek religion had gods both large and small, so the English word “divinity” might be more accurate?

Sleeping Alone: Poem Number 3

This is one of my favorite poems as of late:

Japanese	Romanization	Translation
あしびきの	Ashibiki no	Must I sleep alone
山鳥の尾の	Yamadori no ō no	through the long autumn nights,
しだり尾の	Shidari no ō no	long like the dragging tail
ながながし夜を	naga nagashi yo wo	of the mountain pheasant
ひとりかもねむ	hitori kamo nen	separated from his dove?

Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of this poem Kakinomoto no Hitomaro (柿本人麻呂, dates unknown), was one of the pre-eminent poets of the Asuka Period in Japan, and contributed to the Manyoshu anthology as well. According to my new book, he served in the courts of emperors Tenmu, Jitō (poem 2), and Monmu as a kind of “court poet” (kyūtei-kajin, 宮廷歌人). During official outings, or former occasions, the court poet was relied upon to compose a fitting poem for the occasion. So revered was Hitomaro at his job that he, alongside his contemporary Yamabe no Akahito (poem 4), were later called kasei (歌聖, “saints of poetry”).

Hitomaro is also possible candidate for authorship of the famous iroha poem: a poem that uses every hiragana letter only once.

While the poem above looks like any other love poem, the composition, imagery, rhythm and such, make this one really stand out. 😁

The yamadori (山鳥) is actually a species of bird called the Copper Pheasant, known for its long tail, and is our featured photo for today (photo by KKPCW, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons). There’s a great photo here as well. Traditionally, it was thought that the male and female birds slept separately at night, hence Hitomaro was comparing this to his own feeling of loneliness.

One thing I like about this poem, and why I have a particular interest in it, is the repetitive sounds using の (no) throughout. If you recite the poem out loud, it has a particularly nice rhythm to it, and for me it is thus easy to memorize/recite. Try it out and you’ll see what I mean. The frequent use of の also links various words together in a way that stretches out the verse. Thus, Hitomaro isn’t sleeping alone, it feels like a looooooong night alone.

According to the Hyakunin Isshu Daijiten, there are certain birds in Japanese culture that are frequently used to represent autumn. In addition to the Copper Pheasant, other birds include:

The wild goose (kari, 雁)
The quail (uzura, うずら)
The bull-headed shrike, or Lanius bucephalus (mozu, もず)

Original Manyogana	Modern Japanese	Romanization	Rough Translation¹
念友	思へども	Omoedomo	Even as I try not to think about it,
念毛金津	思ひもかねつ	Omoi mo kanetsu	I can’t help but think
足桧之	あしひきの	Ashihiki no	how long this night will
山鳥尾之	山鳥の尾の	Yamadori no ō no	be, like the tail of a
永此夜乎	長きこの夜を	Nagaki kono yo wo	copper pheasant.

	Doug on Hyakunin Isshu Book Handwritin…
	Sou-chan on Hyakunin Isshu Book Handwritin…
	Andrei Siosana on Summer Weather: Poem Number…
	Andrei Siosana on Summer Weather: Poem Number…
	Doug on Pillow Words in the Hyakunin…

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