Tag: Hyakunin Isshu

Poems from the Hyakunin Isshu

Hidden Love Amongst the Grass: Poem Number 39

The sixth poem in our series dedicated to Valentine’s Day is one of hidden love:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
あさぢじふうのAsajiu noThough I reveal my love
小お野のしの原Ono no shinoharaas sparingly as the sparse reeds
忍ぶれどShinoburedothat grow in low bamboo fields,
あまりてなどかAmarite nado kait overwhelms me—why is it
人の恋こいしきHito no koishikithat I must love her so?
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of the poem was Sangi Hitoshi (参議等, 880-951, “Counselor Hitoshi”), also known as Minamoto no Hitoshi. According to Mostow, he held many provincial posts, but is lesser known in the poetry world. Apparently the poem was sent to a woman, and is a fine specimen of love poetry.

The poem, when read aloud in Japanese, has a nice sound to it, owing to the way that shinohara and shinobu repeat, but also the poem has a nice contrast to it. According to Professor Mostow, the fourth line reverses the idea of scarcity with talk of being overwhelmed by love creating a kind of balance in the poem.

Hopefully the girl was impressed. 😉

An example of imperata cylindrica (chigaya 茅), CC BY-SA 3.0, photo via Wikimedia Commons

One final note: the poem alludes to a couple plants of note:

  • one is chigaya (茅, Cogongrass, imperata cylindrica), which in the poem is called asajiu.
  • the other is a kind of thin bamboo grass called shinodaké (篠竹, pleioblastus simonii?), more commonly know as medaké in modern Japanese. The featured photo at the top of this post is an example of An example of pleioblastus simoni (photo by I, KENPEI, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

The scene described in the poem is a mixed field with taller bamboo grass poking out above a field of shorter reed grass.

The Joys and Pains of Marriage: Poem Number 54

This is the fifth poem in our series dedicated to Valentine’s Day:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
忘れじのWasureji noBecause that future, until which,
行くすゑえまではYukusue made wayou say, you will “never forget,”
難ければKatakerebais hard to rely on,
けうきょうを限りのKyo wo kagiri nooh, if only today could be
命ともがなInochi to mo ganathe last day of my life!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by Gidō Sanshi no Haha (儀同三司母, ? – 996), or “Kishi” or short. Her personal name was Takashina no Takako, and she was the wife of the powerful regent, Fujiwara no Michitaka. She is listed in the Hyakunin Isshu as “Mother of the Supernumerary Grand Minister” due to the tremendous power wielded by her son, Fujiwara no Korechika for a time, as well as Princess Teishi whom Sei Shonagon (poem 62) served under.

Takako herself was from an elite family, and had considerable talent in Chinese poetry, which allowed her to win competitions over many learned gentleman. No doubt this helped her catch the eye of the ambitious and rising star that was Fujiwara no Michitaka. This poem was, according to Mostow, composed shortly after their wedding, with all the joy and excitement about the future that comes with marriage.

However, as you can see, there is a bitter undertone to this poem. Noblemen at the time often married multiple wives, and such women were often living apart from their husbands. Further, Michitaka was known to carry on many side affairs, including Akazomé Emon’s sister (poem 59).

As we saw with the Gossamer Years, this can lead to many years of isolation and loneliness if the husband neglects her. So, the poem expressed a sense of unease about the future and how long this excitement might last.

Later, when Michitaka later passed away, Takako took tonsure as a Buddhist nun and left behind few other poems.

Speaking as one who’s happily married myself, I can definitely understand her excitement that day, even a thousand years later, but also the joys of staying with it for many years. One wife is enough, and I am glad to have invested the care and devotion to make it work.

The photo above was taken by me of the doll set we keep at home for Girl’s Day, a holiday celebrated in early March. It symbolizes the happy marriage of the Emperor and Empress, and the aspirations of young women everywhere for a happy life with the man of their dreams.

P.S. Featured image is a calendar my son made in Japanese preschool, depicting Girl’s Day.

A Broken Thread: Poem Number 89

For our fourth poem in honor of Valentine’s Day, I thought this was an excellent choice:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
玉のをおよTama no o yoO, jeweled thread of life!
絶えなば絶えねTaenaba taeneif you are to break, then break now!
ながらへえばNagaraebaFor, if I live on,
しのぶることのShinoburu koto nomy ability to hide my love
よはりもぞするYowari mo zo suruwill most surely weaken!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of this poem, Shokushi Naishinnō (式子内親王) was the daughter of Emperor Go-Shirakawa and was high priestess, or saiin (斎院), of the Kamo Shrine near Kyoto (office website, Japanese only). Because the Kamo Shrine was so central to the spiritual protection of the capitol, the high-priestess could only be the daughter of an emperor, and was expected to be a vestal virgin. She would serve as the high-priestess until such time as a new emperor was enthroned.

The daughter of Emperor Go-Shirakawa received a world-class education in poetry from none other than Fujiwara no Shunzei (poem 83), and later by his son, Fujiwara no Teika (poem 97), the compiler of the Hyakunin Isshu. The Hyakunin Isshu Daijiten also alludes to rumors that Teika and Shokushi Naishinnō later had a romantic relationship. Further, researchers have noted that Teika frequently mentions her in his journal.

However, if the two had a romantic relationship, they never married. Shokushi Naishinnō became the high priestess and led a celibate life. According to one story, after Shokushi Naishinnō passed away, it is said that Teika’s strong feelings of longing for her eventually led to the sprouting of teikakazura flowers (Asiatic Jasmine, Trachelospermum asiaticum) around her grave.

Shokushi Naishinnō, in addition to being the high priestess, also left a considerable poetry collection in her own right. This poem belonged to another anthology under the subject of “hidden love”, according to Mostow. This was a popular subject of poetry contests and similar poems can be found in the Hyakunin Isshu as well.

One other note here is the imagery of strings of jewelry symbolizing one’s life, as in the first verse of the poem above. It seems to have been a frequent metaphor and there are example poems dating all the way to the Manyoshu that use similar imagery.

Reel Her In: Poem Number 25

This is the third poem in the series dedicated to Valentine’s Day:

JapaneseRomanzationTranslation
名にしおはわばNa ni shi owabaIf they bear such names:
逢おう坂山のOsakayama nothe “come-sleep vine” of
さねかづずらSanekazura“Meeting-Slope Hill” —
人にしられでHito ni shiraredehow I wish there was a way to come to you,
くるよしもがなKuru yoshi mo ganaas if pulling in a vine, unknown to others.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The poem was composed by Sanjō Udaijin (三条右大臣, 873-932), or “Sanjō Minister of the Right”. He was also known as Fujiwara no Sadakata, the father of Fujiwara no Asatada (poem 44) and cousin of Kanesuke (poem 27). His sobriquet comes from his residence in the Sanjō district of the capitol of Kyoto (formerly Heian-kyō).

While successful politically, he was a minor poet in the day, whose poetry only appeared in a few collections. However, he was also the sponsor of a poetry circle centered around Kanesuke above, Ki no Tsurayuki (poem 35), and Ōshikōchi no Mitsune (poem 29) during the reign of Emperor Daigo.

Kadsura japonica (sanekazura), bearing fruit

In the days of the Heian Court, men and women frequently lived apart and meeting one another was very difficult. Also, traditionally, if they were going to meet, it was the man’s role to meet the woman. Thus poetry was a very useful means of expressing one’s love, arranging meetings, etc.

Here Sadakata uses the image of a vine pulling his lover to him (rather than him visiting her), but also a lot of clever word-play. The name of the place, Ōsaka (逢坂), no relation to the modern city, can mean “meeting place-hill”. Here, the verb for meeting, au/ou (逢う), is not the same as the generic, modern Japanese verb au (会う). The meeting in this context is an overtly romantic one. We see this again in Lady Izumi’s poem (poem 56). The name of the vine, sanekazura (Kadsura japonica), has the words sa ne (サ、寝), in there, meaning “come, sleep!” according to Professor Mostow. Lastly, the word kuru can mean either “come” or to “reel in”.

Twin Peaks: Poem Number 13

The second poem in our series devoted to Valentine’s Day is this one:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
筑波嶺のTsukubane noLike the Mina River
みねより落つるMine yori otsuruthat falls from the peak
みなの川Minano-gawaof Mount Tsukuba
恋ぞつもりてKoi zo tsumoriteso my longing has collected
淵となりぬるFuchi to naru nuruand turned into deep pools.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The poem was composed by Yōzei-in (陽成院, 868 – 949), known in English as Emperor Yōzei. Yozei was the firstborn son of Emperor Seiwa, and Empress Takaiko. Takaiko, is thought to have briefly eloped with Ariwara no Narihira, who wrote poem 17 (ちは) in the Hyakunin Isshu, as eluded to in episode six of the Ise Stories.

According to commentaries, the poem was intended for “the princess of Tsuridono” who was the daughter of Emperor Kōkō’s (poem 15, きみがためは).

Nevertheless, the analogy of Mount Tsukuba (modern-day Ibaraki Prefecture), pictured above, was an excellent choice. The mountain is famous in Japanese culture, especially for the two peaks: one called nantai (男体, “Man”) on the western side, and nyotai (女体, “Woman”) on the eastern side. It was a frequent topic used in love poetry back in the day. Even today, it is a very popular destination for tourists and nature lovers. This style of simple love poetry is something you’re likely to also see in older anthologies such as the Manyoshu or the Kojiki.

Sadly, Emperor Yozei is better known for his severe mental instability in later year. Anecdotes from the time relate how Yozei would commit odd or violent behavior, such as riding around the palace with his 30 horses, swinging around the legendary sword, Kusanagi, one of the Three Sacred Treasures of the Imperial Household, beating his wet nurse to death, and killing small animals for amusement. His behavior became increasingly erratic, and so he abdicated in favor of the aforementioned Emperor Koko in the year 884, at the age of 17.

….. or is that what really happened? My new book implies that there is a theory that the story of his insanity was made up by Koko’s faction, or possibly exaggerated as justification for a power-play. The fact that Yozei continued to live peacefully until the age of 82, composing poetry like the one above lends to the possibility that he was not as ill-health as first thought.

Love Burns Like A Torch: Poem Number 49

The first of a series of poems dedicated to Valentine’s Day:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
みかき守MikakimoriLike the fire the guardsman kindles,
ゑえじのたく火のEji no taku hi noguarding the imperial gates:
夜はもえYoru wa moeat night, burning,
昼は消えつつHiru wa kie tsutsuin the day, exhausted,
物をこそ思へえMono wo koso moeover and over, so I long for her.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, Ōnakatomi no Yoshinobu Ason (大中臣能宣朝臣, 921 – 991), was the grandfather of Ise no Tayū (poem 61) and a prolific poet in his time, and one of the Thirty-Six Immortals of Poetry. According to Mostow, was also one of the “Five Gentlemen of the Pear Chamber” (nashi tsubo no gonin 梨壺の五人), with the Pear Chamber referring to a special room within the Court ladies’ residence of the Imperial Palace, which in turn was named after a special pear tree within the Palace gardens in the Ladies’ Quarter. This implied a very high honor indeed for Yoshinobu who was a member of the Inner Court.

Interestingly, Mostow suggests that the poem was in fact not written by Yoshinobu, owing to the fact that it does not appear in Yoshinobu’s personal collection and is listed as “anonymous” in other collections.

A Lover’s Cruelty: Poem Number 82

A poem I stumbled upon today:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
思ひいわびOmoi wabiMiserable,
さても命はSatemo inochi wanonetheless, somehow
あるものをAru mono woI cling to life, but
うきにたへえぬはUki ni taenu wait is my tears
なみだなりけりNamida nari kerithat cannot endure the pain!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of the poem, Dōin Hōshi (道因法師, 1090 – 1179?), or “Dharma Master Dōin”. He lived as Fujiwara no Atsuyori, and served under Emperor Sutoku (poem 77), but wasn’t particularly successful. Later in life, he took tonsure in 1172 and became a Buddhist priest. It’s not clear if this poem was written before or after he took up the religious life.

According to Mostow, it’s not clear if the poem is a real expression of pain or part of poetry contest. Unfortunately, none of the poetry collections of Dōin survive, though he frequented poetry contests since 1160. He became a member of a famous poetry group called the Karin-en (歌林苑), though, and spent much time around other influential poets of the day.

P.S. Featured photo is Il Triste Messaggio (“The Sad Message”), by Peter Fendi, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Winter Isolation: Poem Number 28

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

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
山里はYamazato waIn the mountain village,
冬ぞさびしさFuyu zo sabishisait is in winter that my loneliness
まさりけるMasari-keruincreases most,
人めも草もHitome mo kusa mowhen I think how both have dried up,
かれぬと思へえばKarenu to omoebathe 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.

Broken Promises: Poem Number 42

This poem is a reminder that oaths taken under passionate embrace are not always kept later:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
ちぎりきなChigiriki naBut we promised!
かたみに袖をKatami no sodé woWhile wringing out tears from
しぼりつつShibori tsutsuEach other’s sleeves,
末すえの松山Sué no MatsuyamaThat never would the waves
wash over
波こさじとはNami kosaji to waSue-no-Matsu Mountain.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

As Mostow notes the author, Kiyohara no Motosuke (清原元輔, 908 – 990) was the grandson of Kiyohara no Fukayabu of poem 36 and also the father of Sei Shōnagon who authored the Pillow Book and poem 62. Motosuke is also one of the Thirty-six Immortals of Poetry.

Sue-no-matsu is an actual mountain in Japan in Miyagi Prefecture, called sue no matsuyama (末の松山). This same mountain is said to have been visited by the Haiku poet, Basho, in a later age. The term matsuyama here (松山) refers to pine-clad mountains, so the idea is that the mountain will never wash under the waves, and thus the lovers’ feelings for each other would never die.

The poem’s intent here, as stated by the author himself in writing, was not to express Motosuke’s feelings, but rather for a friend whose lover’s feelings seemed to have grown cold. We see another example of a poet writing on behalf of another in poem 59. Still it serves as a sobering reminder that passion might be wonderful at the time, but is fickle too.

P.S. Speaking of pines, poem 16 and poem 34.

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:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
心あてにKokoroate niMust it be by chance,
折おらばや折おらむんOrabaya oranif I am to pluck one,
that I pluck it? —
初霜のHatsushimo nowhite chrysanthemums
おきまどはわせるOki madowaseruon which the first frost
白菊の花Shiragiku no hanalies 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.