Update on Blog

Hi all,

I just wanted to give a brief update to patient readers. If you saw on my other blog, you might have seen an announcement a few months ago: my wife is pregnant with our second child. Due date is in mid-October, so we’ve been busy preparing, plus I’m trying to be more helpful at home.

However, that doesn’t mean the blog has fallen away either. I had to focus on other projects for a while, but I am back and will be posting more poems soon. Are we’re nearing the end of the Hyakunin Isshu, I hope to finish all poems before the end of the year (before the baby is born if possible). ๐Ÿ™‚

Plus I have a few other interesting posts related to the Hyakunin Isshu as well I hope to post soon.

Stay tuned!

A Foggy Winter’s Morn: Poem Number 64

This is a great poem for the deep of winter:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
ๆœใผใ‚‰ใ‘AsaborakรฉAs the winter dawn
ๅฎ‡ๆฒปใ˜ใฎๅทใŒใ‚ใŽใ‚ŠUji no kawagiribreaks, the Uji River mist
ใŸใˆใ ใˆใซTaedae nithings in patches and
ใ‚ใ‚‰ใฏใ‚ใ‚Œใ‚ใŸใ‚‹Arawarรฉ watarurevealed, here and there, are
ใ›ใœใฎ็ถฒไปฃๆœจSeze no ajirogiall the shallows’ fishing stakes.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of this poem known by the lofty title of Gonchลซnagon Sadayori (ๆจฉไธญ็ด่จ€ๅฎš้ ผ, 995 – 1045), or “Supernumerary Middle Counselor Sadayori”, was also known as Fujiwara no Sadayori, son of the eminent poet and critic of the era, Fujiwara no Kintล (poem 55).

Sadayori was also a respectable poet in his own right.โ€‚According to my new book, when father and son took part in the Imperial precession by Emperor Ichijo to the ลŒi River (ๅคงๅ ฐๅท, ลi-gawa), part of the modern Katsura River, he was tasked with composing a poem for the occasion and came up with this:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
ๆฐดใ‚‚ใชใMizu mo nakuHow can one possibly
่ฆ‹ใˆใ“ใใ‚ใŸใ‚ŒMiekoso watarelook out over
ๅคงๅ ฐๅทลŒi-gawathe Oi River,
ๅฒธใฎ็ด…่‘‰ใฏKishi no momiji wawhen the fall leaves
้›จใจ้™ใ‚Œใฉใ‚‚Ame to furedomorain down on the shore?
Translation by myself

It was a clever way to point out the beauty of fall, and both Kintล and the Emperor were impressed.โ€‚Later, Sadayori was supposedly flummoxed by Lady Izumi’s daughter, Koshikibu no Naishi in a famous poetry contest (namely poem 60).

In any case, back to the Hyakunin Isshu poem.โ€‚The phrase asaborakรฉ is apparently short for asa ga oboroge ni aketekuru koro (ๆœใŒใŠใผใ‚ใ’ใซๆ˜Žใ‘ใฆใใ‚‹้ ƒ) meaning “that time at dawn when things are hazy”, particularly in autumn or winter.โ€‚It is also used in poem 31, and a challenge for karuta players as a result.

Sadayori’s usage of the Uji River (ๅฎ‡ๆฒปๅท, uji-gawa), now known as the Yodo River (ๆท€ๅท, yodo-gawa), may not seem like much to modern audiences, but it carries much meaning in Japanese antiquity.โ€‚The Uji River was frequently cited Japanese poetry, and runs through the Osaka metropolitan area. It is mentioned in the earliest Japanese poem anthology, such as the Manyoshu, and others.โ€‚It was a pivotal place at the end of the Tales of Genji, written by Lady Murasaki (poem 57), when the heroine Ukifunรฉ attempts to take her own life, but is rescued from the river and takes tonsure as a Buddhist nun instead.โ€‚The Uji River was often deeply associated with turbulent relationships between men and women.โ€‚In a more practical sense, it was also a place where the nobility of Kyoto often had second villas, and was a popular meeting place.

I actually had to look up what “fishing stakes” are. The term, ajirogi (็ถฒไปฃๆœจ), refers to stakes in the water, like a fence or weir. Fish swim into these places and they were easier to catch with nets because they had fewer places to escape.โ€‚You can see an illustration here.โ€‚Side note: the Salish people here in the Pacific Northwest had a particularly ingenious system of fishing stakes as well.

Professor Mostow notes that the combination of the Uji River and the fishing stakes was a very famous image in ancient Japanese poetry, and this coupled with the image of a cold winter’s dawn make this a powerful poem. Unlike other poems in the Hyakunin Isshu which might be hypothetical, exaggerated or talk about something abstract such as love, Mostow points out that this poem likely was written exactly as Sadayori saw it. I can only wonder what it was like watching the fishermen go to work early that icy morning.

P.S. The featured photo is the Kennebunk River during fog, photo by David Lounsbury, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Thanks, But No Thanks: Poem Number 67

This clever little poem shows the battle of the sexes as it existed 1,000 years ago:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
ๆ˜ฅใฎๅคœใฎHaru no yo noWith your arm as my pillow
ๅคขใฐใ‹ใ‚Šใชใ‚‹Yume bakari narufor no more than a brief
ใŸใพใใ‚‰ใซTamakura nispring night’s dream,
ใ‹ใฒใ„ใชใ็ซ‹ใŸใ‚€ใ‚“Kainaku tatanhow I would regret my name
ๅใ“ใใ‚’ใŠใ—ใ‘ใ‚ŒNa koso oshikerecoming, pointlessly, to ‘arm!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, known as Suล no Naishi (ๅ‘จ้˜ฒๅ†…ไพ, dates unknown), the “Suล Handmaid”, was so named because her father was governor Suล Province. As mentioned before, this was a common method used by female authors (cf. poem 65), so unfortunately, their real names are rarely known. This is another poem that speaks to the importance of a woman’s reputation in the ancient Court of Japan, just like poem 65. However, this one is much more playful and shows a lot of wit.

According to the back-story, there was a social gathering at the Nijล-In (ไบŒๆก้™ข), the woman’s quarters at the palace. The woman there were relaxing, and the author of this poem said, “I wish I had a pillow”. At that moment, one Fujiwara no Tada’ie happen to walk by, and hearing this stuck his arm through the bamboo screen (ๅพก็ฐพ, misu) and said, “Here, takes this as your pillow!”.

In reply, the author composed this poem. As Professor Mostow points out, the word for arm here (kaina) is a pun for pointless (kainaku).

People flirted pretty clever back in those days. ๐Ÿ˜

P.S. Featured photo by Christian Kadluba, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

A Matter of Personal Honor: Poem Number 65

A poignant poem that also provides insight into culture at the time:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
ใ†ใ‚‰ใฟใ‚ใณUramiwabiAlthough there are
ใปใ•ใฌใใงใ ใซHosanu sodรฉ da nimy sleeves that never dry,
ใ‚ใ‚‹ใ‚‚ใฎใ‚’Aru mono wobitter and sad,
ๆ‹ใซใใกใชใ‚€ใ‚“Koi ni kuchinanwhat I really regret is
ๅใ“ใใ‚’ใŠใ—ใ‘ใ‚ŒNa koso oshikerรฉmy name, made rotten by love!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author is Sagami (็›ธๆจก, 998? – 1068?) also known as “Lady Sagami”. Her name is taken from her father who served the governor of Sagami Province at one point, hence this became her sobriquet.

The poem is somewhat typical of the era, a woman is jilted and because of the public scrutiny her reputation is ruined. Because the Court society was so closed and small, rumors and reputation were a big part of the social life there. This is expressed in other poems in the Hyakunin Isshu, such as poem 18 or in the Gossamer Years. A woman who’s reputation was marred by an embarrassing incident, bad fashion choice or an unfaithful spouse would lose her standing in the court, and may not recover. She couldn’t really go pick up and start a new life either.

The motif tear-soaked sleeves was a popular poetic device, and you can find it in other poems in the Hyakunin Isshu, poem 42 for example. Sleeves (่ข–, sodรฉ) in general are featured in a surprising number of poems from the Hyakunin Isshu:

  • Sleeves covered in dew from the overnight watch (poem 1)
  • Sleeves of a Buddhist monk, shielding the world (poem 95)
  • Pollen covered sleeves (poem 15)

Further, fashion in this time was somewhat different than the kimono we are familiar with from the medieval Japanese era.โ€‚The photo above, taken by ใƒญใƒช (CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons) is an example of the jลซ-ni-hitoรฉ (ๅไบŒๅ˜) robes worn by ladies of the court during formal occasions. This multi-layered garment was difficult to put on as it comprised of up to 12 layers of garments. It was also difficult to walk in. And yet the junihitoรฉ is an iconic fashion for the time, and as we can see in the Diary of Lady Murasaki, women of the Court would be heavily scrutinized for their sense of taste during such occasions.

It’s not hard to imagine a broken-hearted woman with tear-soaked sleeves nevertheless, and how it became an important expression of Japanese sentiment at the time.

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
ไปŠใฏใŸใ Ima wa tadaNow, the only thing
ๆ€ใฒใ„ใŸใˆใชใ‚€ใ‚“Omoi taenanI wish for is a way to say
ใจใฐใ‹ใ‚Šใ‚’To bakari woto you directly
ไบบใฅใฆใชใ‚‰ใงHitozute nara deโ€”not through anotherโ€”
ใ„ใตใ†ใ‚ˆใ—ใ‚‚ใŒใชIu yoshi mo ga na“I will think of you no longer!”
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The poem was composed by Sakyล Daibu Michimasa (ๅทฆไบฌๅคงๅคซ้“้›…, 993 – 1054) who title means “Master of the Western Capital Michimasa”.โ€‚He also known by his personal name as Fujiwara no Michimasa.โ€‚

Michimasa was the son of Fujiwara no Korechika, and Michimasaโ€™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 Naishinnล (ๅฝ“ๅญๅ†…่ฆช็Ž‹, โ€œPrincess Masakoโ€). 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 (่’ไธ‰ไฝ, โ€œWild third rankโ€) and Akusanmi (ๆ‚ชไธ‰ไฝ, โ€œevil third rankโ€). The โ€œthird rankโ€ was his aristocratic rank in the Imperial court.

Worse still, Michimasa was implicated in the murder of Emperor Kazanโ€™s daughter in 1024 in the dread Jotomon-in Incident (ไธŠๆฑ้–€้™ขๅฅณๆˆฟๆฎบๅฎณไบ‹ไปถ, jลtลmon-in nyลbล satsugai jiken). The murderer confessed to killing her on Michimasaโ€™s orders. Yikes.

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

Letโ€™s talk about Princess Masakoโ€™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 (ๆ–Ž้™ข). 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 Naishinnล (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 Masakoโ€™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 familyโ€™s loss of grace and dubious reputation. Princess Masako, being a teen and cloistered in the Imperial family duties probably didnโ€™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 wasnโ€™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
ๆปใฎ้ŸณใฏTaki no oto waAlthough the sound of
็ตถใˆใฆไน…ใ—ใTaete hisashikuthe waterfull has ceased,
ใชใ‚Šใฌใ‚ŒใฉNarinuredoand that long ago,
ๅใ“ใๆตใ‚ŒใฆNa koso nagareteits name, indeed, has carried on
ใชใปใŠ่žใˆใ‘ใ‚ŒNao kikoe kereand is still heard!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, Dainagon Kintล (ๅคง็ด่จ€ๅ…ฌไปป, 966 – 1041), better known as Major Counselor Fujiwara no Kintล, 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 ลŒ-kagami (ๅคง้ก, โ€œgreat mirrorโ€). 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, ๅ’ŒๆญŒ), one for Chinese poetry (kanshi, ๆผข่ฉฉ), and one for wind and string music (kangen, ็ฎกๅผฆ) 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 Sanshลซ-no-sai (ไธ‰่ˆนใฎๆ‰, โ€œthree boat geniusโ€).

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

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
ๅฐๅ€‰ๅฑฑOgura-yamaThe cold, stormy
ๅตใฎ้ขจใฎArashi no kazรฉ nowind blowing from
ๅฏ’ใ‘ใ‚ŒใฐSamukerebaMount Ogura
็ด…่‘‰ใฎ้ŒฆMomiji no nishikiscatters nobles in finery
็€ใ€Œใใ€ใฌไบบใžใชใKinu hito zo nakilike autumn leaves!
My own translation, apologies for any mistakes or clumsy translations

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

Among other accomplishments, Kintล 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, ใ‚) or โ€œLady Purpleโ€ 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. ๐Ÿ™‚

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
ไธ–ใฎไธญใฏYo no naka waIf only this world
ใคใญใซใ‚‚ใŒใ‚‚ใชTsune ni mo ga mo nacould always remain the same!
ใชใŽใ•ใ“ใNagisa koguThe sight of them towing
ใ‚ใพใฎใ‚’ใŠใถใญใฎAma no obune nothe small boats of the fishermen who row in the tide
็ถฑๆ‰‹ใ‹ใชใ—ใ‚‚Tsuna de kanashi mois touching indeed!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by the Kamakura no Udaijin (้ŽŒๅ€‰ๅณๅคง่‡ฃ, 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.โ€‚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.โ€‚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.

The Gossamer Years

Hi all,

This somewhat different than my usual posts, but I after posting by poem by the Mother of Michitsuna (poem 53), I decided to read her diary, titled the Gossamer Years, or kagerล nikki (่œป่›‰ๆ—ฅ่จ˜) in Japanese.

The “Mother of Michitsuna” is never named as per the culture of the Heian Period of Japan. She lived a generation or two before other famous female authors such as Sei Shonagon (poem 62), Lady Murasaki (poem 57), Lady Izumi (poem 56), etc. The translator, Professor Seidensticker, did a masterful job translating this difficult text. In reading the footnotes, you can see he struggled a lot with the vagaries of the text, and with the language, where it’s not always clear from the context who’s talking about whom.

At the time, she was from a lesser branch of the powerful Fujiwara Family, but she married Fujiwara no Kane’ie, who was gradually moving up the ranks of the Heian Court. Fujiwara clan, Kane’ie had to contend with various other members of the court, and even his own clan, to gain the prestigious position of Regent, which he finally accomplished in 986 as regent for Emperor Ichijล. His sons, Michinaga and Michitaka both became regents and the most powerful men in the Heian Court. Lady Murasaki (poem 57) served under Michinaga, by the way, and they are the subject of a Japanese historical drama in 2024.

Suffice to say, Kane’ie was a very ambitious and influential man. As such, he married a few women, as per Heian Period custom, and also carried on various affairs, having yet more children on top of this. One of these children is the author of poem 52.

The Mother of Michitsuna began her diary when Kane’ie first met her, and courted her. Her own father was the governor of a remote province, a mediocre position in the Court, but he gave his blessing and they were married. In the early part of the Diary, she writes about all the passionate love poems they exchanged and such. It seemed like a good relationship early on, but the Mother of Michitsuna wasn’t Kane’ie’s first wife. She was probably his second or third wife (the diary isn’t clear on this), and his time was divided between his wives. When he was not around, she stayed in one of the outer rooms of his mansion and just passed the time with her hand-maidens.

But as the diary shows, Kane’ie’s visits came less and less often. In time she tracked him down to an alleyway where he’d spend the night with some girl, presumably a bastard child of one of the emperors, and rumor has it that she had a son by him as well. The author was not surprisingly furious and jealous, but completely powerless to stop him. She writes about the sound of his carriage driving by the residence, but not even stopping by to say hello, while she spent night after night alone.

Later, in Book 3, she finds about more of his affairs and children, and adopts the daughter of another of his lovers so that she doesn’t have to spend her young life in a monastery. Strangely, Kane’ie’s brother takes an interest in the child (his own niece) and gets very pushy about marrying her which again was not unusual at the time among the nobility. The Mother of Michitsuna expends a lot of effort to delay and make excuses for the girl, and pleads with her husband to help her, with only modest success.

This agonizing loneliness and sense of abandonment is the primary theme of the Gossamer Years. There are times when Kane’ie and the Mother of Michitsuna grow closer briefly, such as when Kane’ie falls gravely ill or when the Mother of Michitsuna loses her own mother to old age, but after a while he forgets her again. Their relationship is quite strained in the diary though, because she is frequently enraged by his insensitivity, but Kane’ie gets frustrated by her “moods” and can’t seem to understand why she is mad at him. Worse, he blames her regularly as to why he doesn’t come anymore.

At one point, the Mother of Michitsuna, now old and a has-been, has had it with Kane’ie and abruptly moves out of the mansion and retreats to a monastery which causes quite a stir at the Court and humiliates Kane’ie. Furious he tries to send messenger after messenger to bring her back, but she refuses for a long time. Finally, after a combination of threats and pleading, she agrees to return home, but they soon fall into the old routine again.

The Mother of Michitsuna only had one child with Kane’ie, Michitsuna of course (who rose to be a minister of the Court, though not as powerful as his half-brothers), and Kane’ie seems to take much pride in his son, but also periodically uses him as a weapon for getting back at his mother.

Thus, the Gossamer Years is a long, and often very depressing diary of a noblewoman in a very unsatisfying marriage who spent many dreary days alone. The diary ends abruptly one day when there’s a knock at her residence, and it appears that she never took up the brush again. Nobody knows why. As for the diary itself, it is full of poems exchanged back and forth. Most of these are mediocre poems, though as you can see, Fujiwara no Teika did include one of them in his famous Hyakunin Isshu anthology. However, these other poems are also waka poems, just like the ones you read here on this blog, and it’s amazing how many poems people exchanged in those days just to express things like “how are you?” or “can you come over?”.

In today’s modern age where text-messages replace letters or poems, we can send messages much quicker now, but it’s amazing how much skill and subtlety it took to get a simple point across to someone back then. Not surprisingly, the kinds of feelings of frustration a broken-hearted woman might have were probably much worse then because they were traditionally very isolated in their homes. It was uncommon for women, especially powerful noblewomen, to go out on their own without permission from their husbands, and their lifestyle and huge robes made it difficult to travel far anyway. Customs and such would also get in the way too. In short, women spent most of their time indoors in their home with nothing to do.

As for the Mother of Michitsuna herself, it’s tempting to make her a tragic, almost saintly figure, but in reality she was prone to faults of her own. When the “woman in the alley” had the misfortune of losing her home to a fire, the author felt a moment of triumph and petty revenge without any remorse. In another, more troubling scene late in book one, she encounters a defeated rival (it’s not clear who) and gloats over her:

At the Hollyhock Festival in the Fourth Month I recognized the carriage of a lady who had once been my rival, and I deliberately had my own carriage stopped beside it. While we were waiting, rather bored, for the procession to go by, I sent over the first line of a poem, attached to an orange and a hollyhock: “The hollyhock should promise a meeting, but the orange tells us we have yet to wait.” After a time she sent back a line to complete the couplet: “Today for the first time I know the perverseness of her who sends this bitter yellow fruit.” “Why just todayโ€”she must have had similar feelings for years,” said one of my women. When I told the Prince [Kane’ie] of the incident, he remarked, to our considerable amusement, that the closing line the lady really had in mind was probably more like this: “This fruit you send me, I would like to grind it to bits with my teeth.”

pg. 59, trans. Seidensticker.

Clearly the Mother of Michitsuna was not above petty rivalries or revenge when it suited her.

Anyhow, what makes the Gossamer Years such a significant work of literature is that it was the first and only real diary of the Heian Period to really express how a woman felt in that small, cloistered world. The Heian Period had many great works of literature, both by men and women, but these works were either fiction (e.g. Tales of Genji), poetry (e.g. Tales of Ise) or just dry, stodgy journals about oval events. The Gossamer Years is much more “raw” and unfiltered than other works at the time. The Mother of Michitsuna is not a strong or witty writer like Sei Shonagon or Lady Murasaki, but you can really feel her pain at times, and wonder why she puts up with him. Then again, the customs of the time gave her few options.

But as you see later in Book 3, it was the culture of the time, not unlike the cloistered French Aristocracy centuries later. The marriage laws from the Taika Reform were vague and full of loopholes, so men could marry as often as they could afford, and affairs were pretty rampant as other poetry in the Hyakunin Isshu regularly show. So while I do enjoy the Hyakunin Isshu and the culture of the Heian Period very much, the Gossamer Years was a sobering reminder that there was a serious side to it as well.

P.S. Featured photo is a scene from the Genji Monogatari (“The Tales of Genji)”, Chapter “YADORI GI”( mistletoe ), by Lady Murasaki (poem 57).โ€‚ Imperial court in Kyoto, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

2012 in review: 100 Poets Blog

Thanks all for reading this blog. When I first started it, I didn’t expect much more than a few readers, but to my surprise it has grown a lot more than expected. Anyhow, the WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog and I felt like sharing it with readers.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 5,100 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 9 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

Waves Beating Against The Shore: Poem Number 48

I decided to post this one after Valentine’s Day for all those whose plans didn’t go well. You’re not alone, as we shall see.

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
้ขจใ‚’ใ„ใŸใฟKaze wo itamiWaves that beat against the rocks,
ใ„ใฏใ‚ใ†ใคๆณขใฎIwa utsu nami nofanned by a fierce windโ€”
ใŠใฎใ‚ŒใฎใฟOnore nomiit is I alone
ใใ ใ‘ใฆ็‰ฉใ‚’Kudakete mono wowho breaks, those times
ใŠใ‚‚ใตใ†้ ƒใ‹ใชOmou koro kanawhen I think of her!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, Minamoto no Shigeyuki (ๆบ้‡ไน‹, ? – 1001) was a well-associated poet who knew Kanemori (poem 40) and Sanekata (poem 51) according to Mostow. He is the last of the Thirty Six Immortals of Poetry featured in the blog (not all 36 are in the Hyakunin Isshu).

The poem, like poem 45 and poem 19, features the popular theme of a cold lover. For some reason, I had a difficult time understanding the analogy of this poem the first time, but Shigeyuki is comparing himself to the waves that crash on the shore. His lover is like the rocks that are unmoved by the waves.

It turns out though that this poem was actually composed for a poetry game involving a hundred-poem sequence “when Retired Emperor Reizei was still called the crown prince” according to Mostow. Such poetry games were popular in the late Heian Period, and influenced people like Fujiwara no Teika and the Hyakunin Isshu anthology.