Tag: Japan

Sucking Up To The New Boss: Manyoshu Poem 235

Although this blog is primarily about the Hyakunin Isshu, I enjoy when things overlap with other Japanese poetry anthologies, and history.

Let’s talk about two of the poets: Empress Jitō (poem 2, はるす) and Kakinomoto no Hitomaro (poem 3, あし). After Empress Jito ascended to the throne, she was visited by Hitomaro, the revered court poet at the time, who composed the following poem:

Original ManyoganaModern JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation1
皇者大君おおきみは Okimi waAs my sovereign
神二四座者神にしませばKami ni shimasebais a living kami,
(see below)
天雲之天雲のAmakumo noshe builds a temporary
雷之上尓雷いかづちの上にIkazuchi no ue niresidence atop
廬為流鴨廬いおりせるかもIoriseru kamoIkazuchi Hill.
1 I didn’t like any of the existing translations, so I tried to translate here. Any mistakes are my own.

At first, this poem seems like a simple case of a courtier sucking up to the new boss, but as we’ll see there’s more to it. This poem is very simple in some respects, and surprisingly difficult in others.

I had to check multiple sources to make sense of it, including my book on the Manyoshu, but the essence of the poem is that Kakinomoto no Hitomaro is describing Empress Jito as a living kami, and that because of her “supernatural abilities”, she can build a residence atop a small hill called Ikazuchi. Ikazuchi Hill, known as Ikazuchi no Oka (雷丘) can be seen in this photo, more information here.

But what the heck is kami? This is surprisingly tough to explain to Western audiences. It is deeply rooted in Shinto religion, and more closely matches something like ancient Greek religion where there were divine spirits both great and small. Small nature spirits would be worshiped as daimon (not to be confused with modern “demon”), and the Olympian gods were venerated too. Even the Olympian gods had “big forms” and small “household forms” worshiped at the hearth. It wasn’t unusual for Zeus, king to the gods, to also be venerated at a home shrine to protect the family assets, or a roadside marker.

In the same way, Shinto has countless kami. It’s not quite right to translate them as “gods” because the meaning is a little different, and “spirits” is not quite right either. But one could include both gods and spirits under the divine label kami. Just like in Greek religion, very talented people could also be venerated as kami after death, such as Hercules. I mention this because Sugawara no Michizane (poem 24 of the Hyakunin Isshu, この) was similarly venerated after death and became something like the Kami (god) of Learning.

This concept of great personages being kami is called arahito-gami (現人神) and that’s basically what Kakinomoto no Hitomaro is describing Empress Jito. Due to the divine ancestry of the Imperial family, this isn’t that surprising, but my book alludes to another reason for this. The turmoil caused by Emperor Tenji (poem 1 of the Hyakunin Isshu, あきの)’s family and his brother Emperor Tenmu’s family for control of the throne meant that Empress Jito (Tenmu’s wife/niece) ascended the throne on shaky ground. Female sovereigns were quite rare in Japanese history, and with the family fighting for control of the throne, Hitomaro was helping her reassert her divine status and legitimacy as the proper ruler of Japan.

The issue of arahito-gami comes up even as recently as 1946, when the reigning Emperor at the time (Emperor Showa, Hirohito), was requested to renounce his divine status after World War II. This declaration used some hair-splitting language about the Emperor’s divinity (or lack thereof), and various interpretations persist today.

…. but that’s something more knowledgeable people could explain better.

As for me, I find it fascinating (and a bit amusing) that these poets I know from the Hyakunin Isshu got embroiled in a succession dispute, but also that Hitomaro helped bolster Empress Jito’s credentials at a time when she was rebuilding the nation again while probably sucking up just a little too.

P.S. the featured photo above is Ikazuchi Hill, photo by Terumasa, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

P.P.S. On a completely unrelated fact, while writing this post I learned that the Chinese characters for 雷丘 also mean “Raichu” as in the Pokemon.

Where It All Began: Mount Ogura

Hello everyone,

I just returned from another trip to Japan,1 and we got to spend a bit of time in Kyoto. By accident, I also found Mount Ogura, and the place where Hyakunin Isshu was compiled! But first, let’s backup and explain a bit of history first.

Kyoto was the capital of Japan from the 8th century to the 19th century, and so many well-to-do families lived here. This aristocracy wrote countless waka poems that were compiled into official poetry anthologies from time to time,2 but the Hyakunin Isshu was not one of them. It was compiled by Fujiwara no Teika (poem 97) as a favor to his in-laws. Teika had been a compiler of one of the major anthologies, the Shin-Kokin-Wakashu, but was now in retirement after his liege lords (poem 100 and poem 99) were exiled in the upheaval of the Jokyu Rebellion. He resided in a small villa on the west side of Kyoto on the hillside of Mount Ogura, and was tasked with selecting the very best 100 waka poems that his in-laws could decorate their home with. Teika’s excellent poetic taste led to the Hyakunin Isshu we celebrate today.

Anyhow, back to present day. I was with the family, and we visited a part of western Kyoto called Arashiyama (嵐山). It’s a very scenic place, with famous bamboo forests, and an iconic bridge named Togetsu-kyō (渡月橋):

Since we visited in the summer, it was extremely hot and muggy, so by lunch time we were exhausted and tired. We went to a local cafe and had lunch. Since we were in Kyoto, I assumed there would be many famous historical places related to the Hyakunin Isshu,3 but I was having trouble finding them on GPS, so I was disappointed.

Then I noticed the following spot on my map app:

小倉百人一首編纂の地 (ogura hyakunin isshu hensan no chi) … the place where the Hyakunin Isshu was compiled…? Wow, that’s only 15 minutes by foot from where I was at!

The family was exhausted and sweaty, and were planning to return to our hotel, so I didn’t want to drag them uphill in the heat. I told them I’d be back, and I took off for the place on the map. It turns out that the properly had been converted to a Buddhist temple named Jojakkō-ji (常寂光寺) in the 17th century (a common practice in Kyoto). You can find the official website here.

This is Mount Ogura today.

I followed the map directions and made it safely to Jojakko-ji Temple:

There is a small entry fee, but once I paid that, I got to the second gate here:

The site of the Ogura Hyakunin Isshu is just down the path to the right, before the gate. I made the mistake of going up the stairs instead:

Jojakko-ji Temple is quite scenic actually:

… but it was very late in the day, my family was waiting back at Arashiyama, and I had to hurry. This was my one shot, probably in my lifetime, to find this place, but the temple maps, nor the website show precisely where it was.

Finally, I found it:

The photos from the prefectural website look a lot better than mine (good lighting helps). But there it was, the actual site where the Ogura Hyakunin Isshu was compiled!

The stone marker is pretty small and somewhat eroded, but there was no mistaking it.

Since I was short on time, I paused and said a quick “thank you” to Fujiwara no Teika and then headed back.

If you are fan of the Hyakunin Isshu, and you are in the Arashiyama area of Kyoto don’t miss this small but significant site.

P.S. while at Jojakko-ji, I met a nice Australian couple who had just finished their visit. They told me that at the top of the temple you can see a really view of Kyoto. I didn’t have the time to see it for myself, but if you go, don’t pass up the chance.

P.P.S. I forgot that, ten years ago, I had made a post about Mount Ogura. You can see the Togetsu-Kyo bridge here too.

1 We return every year when possible to visit my wife’s in-laws, and let the kids spend time with their relatives, learn more Japanese, etc.

2 Many earlier poems were also composed at a time when Japan’s capital moved around (Nara, Fujiwara-kyo, Asuka, etc) before settling down in Kyoto. See the Manyoshu for further details.

3 I did actually find one other place we visited earlier in the day, but more on that in an upcoming post.

Hello from Japan, new items

Hello readers,

I am writing this post while staying with my in-laws house in Japan. We will be doing a bit of traveling later, but are mostly fighting jet lag and record heat + humidity for now.

In the meantime I am excited to share some items I picked up, including these new books:

The first book explores the Pillow Book by Sei Shonagon, the second Lady Murasaki’s diary. These texts are both pivotal to appreciating the life and culture of people back then, the same people who composed the poetry of the Hyakunin Isshu. It’s a window to a world that simply doesn’t exist anymore.

Further, this book series, 眠れないほど面白い (nemurenai hodo omoshiroi, “so interesting you can’t sleep!”) has been a huge boon for the blog. It’s provided a lot of fun, historical information about the Heian Period, the Hyakunin Isshu, the Manyoshu, etc., that is simply not available in English. The Japanese is sometimes difficult to read at my level, but it’s been a labor of love, so I enjoy the challenge and have been learning a lot. So I am excited to delve into these two books as well.

Also, it’s noteworthy that both books above mention the current drama series 「光る君へ」as a tie-in.

Yesterday, on a day trip to Tokyo I visited the Karuta shop Okuno Karuta (奥野かるた店). It was very easy to find from the Jinbocho train station (just head left and walk down a few blocks). The store was larger than the Tengu-do and includes lots of neat card sets not related to Karuta. I was on a budget so I tried not to spend too much. I did pick up a mini Karuta set though:

This set looks just like the first set I got, both Tengu-dō brand, but roughly half the size. It’s not suitable for competitive karuta but it’s cute and fun to own.

Anyhow, the staff at Okuno Karuta were very nice and helpful. While I was perusing, a tour group of elderly Japanese came through for a while, and the staff had to handle the rush of customers, before things quieted down again.

Hopefully I can post more updates soon.

P.S. also picked up an obscure Fire Emblem game too:

Ancient Japanese Dad Joke: Manyoshu Poem Number 27

The poem from the Manyoshu feels like an ancient Japanese dad-joke. Read it out loud and you’ll see what I mean:

ManyoganaModern JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
淑人乃よき人のYoki hito noMen of old
良跡吉見而よしとよく見てYoshito yoku mitecame to Yoshino
好常言師よしと言ひしYoshito ii shiand declared it a good place,
芳野吉見与吉野よく見よYoshino yoku miyoSo, good sons, go
良人四来三よき人よく見Yoki hito yoku miand take in the view!

The author of the poem is Emperor Tenmu whom we saw here and here. He is the younger brother of Emperor Tenji of Hyakunin Isshu fame (poem 1, あきの), and husband/uncle to Empress Jito (poem 2, はるす).

Yo, yo, yo, this poem has lots of “yo” words.

The poem was, evidentially, a suggestion by Emperor Tenmu to his sons to visit the beautiful village of Yoshino, near the old capital of Nara, famed for its otherworldly beauty in Spring. The featured image shows Yoshino and its famous cherry trees.

It was also an attempt to foster good relations between Tenmu and his sons through a combination of humor and providing some fatherly advice. Given how complicated family relations were at the time (see links above), and since Tenmu had defeated his own nephew in combat to assume the throne, he had reason to worry.

Sadly, it didn’t work.

After Tenmu’s passing, one son, Prince Ōtsu (ōtsu no miko, 大津皇子), started a rebellion and was later given the death penalty at the age of 24. Wikipedia implies that the rebellion may be a false charge though brought by Empress Jito so that her own son could ascend the throne. My book on the Manyoshu delves into this at length and comes to the same conclusion.

Still, you can’t blame Emperor Tenmu for trying to heal family divisions, yo.

Final Parting

I’ve written before about Empress Teishi, the ill-fated first wife of Emperor Ichijō, and patron of Sei Shonagon who wrote poem 62 of the Hyakunin Isshu (よを). Her family lost a power-struggle to a rival faction of the Fujiwara clan, and under pressure Ichijō took a second wife from the winning faction: Empress Shoshi. Teishi was sidelined, and although she did give birth to an heir, she soon died from illness and presumably humiliation and stress.

While watching the historical drama about Lady Murasaki, it showed Teishi’s untimely death, and revealed that she had left a final deathbed poem to her beloved husband. The poem really exists and is actually recorded in an imperial anthology, the lesser-known Goshūishū (後拾遺), number 536:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
夜もすがらYo mo suguraIf you should remember
契りしことをChigirishi koto wothat vow we made
忘れずはWasurezu wain the deep of night,
恋ひむ涙のKoimu namida nothen I long to see
色ぞゆかしきIro zo yukashikithe color of your tears…

In the drama, Emperor Ichijo and Teishi are portrayed as being sincerely in love, yet ultimately they are a victim of politics and forced apart more and more over time. The vow alluded to here was portrayed in the drama as a promise by Emperor Ichijo to always love Teishi no matter what.

Rokuharamitsu-ji Temple in Kyoto, where Teishi was laid to rest. Photo by 663highland, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Later, Teishi was buried (not cremated in typical Buddhist fashion) at a temple called Roku-haramitsu-ji, near an area of Kyoto called Toribeno no Misasagi (鳥戸野陵). Legend says that on the night of her funeral it snowed. Emperor Ichijo, who was unable to attend, was said to have stayed up all night mourning for her at the palace. Later he composed a poem for her, preserved in the Eiga Monogatari, which is as follows:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
野辺までにNobe made niMy heart yearns
心ばかりはKokoro bakari wafor you all the way
通へえどもKayoe domoin Toribeno,
わが行幸みゆきともWaga miyuki tomoand yet I worry if
知らずやあるらんShirazuya aruranyou are aware of my coming.

Later, Sei Shonagon who retired from the Court, was said to have taken up residence near Toribeno no Misasagi, particularly near a temple named Sennyu-ji. You can see some photos of these places in the video posted here. It was looking back in her later years that Sei Shonagon wrote the Pillow Book as a subtle memorial to her beloved patron, looking back fondly on happier days together.

Sources used:

Places mentioned:

Lady Murasaki and Marital Strife

Lady Murasaki, one of the most famous women of Heian-period Japan, and the first novelist in Japan, wrote many wonderful romantic scenes through the Tales of Genji, yet her real life marriage was anything but.

The latest episode historical drama on NHK about the life and times of Lady Murasaki (poem 57, め) covers her marriage to her second-cousin Fujiwara no Nobutaka (藤原宣孝, ? – 1001), who was around 20 years her senior. Yes, this was not that unusual for the time, but still gross.

Sadly, the marriage quickly turned sour. Nobutaka slept around a lot, and had other hidden wives and children. Lady Murasaki did not take this lying down and the two of them fought frequently. Nobutaka for his part, enjoyed bragging about his trophy wife.

In the poems preserved in Lady Murasaki’s own private collection is this poem addressed to her husband:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation1
言ひ絶えばIi taebaIf you saw you’re going to
さこそは絶えめSa koso wa taemestop writing me, then fine!
なにかそのNanika sonoYou can’t even
みはわらの池をMiwara no ike wostand by the bank
つつみしもせむんTsutsumi shimo senof Miwara pond properly.
1 Apologies for any mistakes, or for the roughness of this translation

The backstory of this poem is that Nobutaka had taken one of Lady’s Murasaki’s private letters addressed to him, and shown off that letter to friends (apparently bragging about how smart his young bride was). She was justifiably angry and told him to knock it off. Nobutaka was angry with her and threatened to stop writing. Her reply above, was a clever way of saying “fine, don’t bother writing me”. The allusion to Miwara pond was a pair of puns:

  • Miwana pond (mihara) is also a pun for anger.
  • The word tsutsumi is also pun for a bank (as in riverbank), and self-restraint.

Contrary to Lady Murasaki’s reply, Nobutaka was so impressed by the reply that he ended up bragging about it to his friends anyway. 🤦🏼‍♂️

Another letter is as follows:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation2
忘るるはWasururu waForgetting others is
うき世のつねとUki yo no tsune toa part of this ephemeral world,
思ふにもOmou ni moEven so,
身をやるかたのMi wo yarukata nobeing forgotten myself,
なきぞわびぬるNaki zo wabinuruI cannot help but cry.
2 Apologies for any mistakes, or for the roughness of this translation

The married nobility of the Heian Period frequently lived in separate estates, and the husband would visit his wife as needed, but not the other way around. It seems by this point, Lady Murasaki was forgotten by her philandering husband, and lamented her unhappy marriage. One can’t help but recall the Gossamer Years generations earlier.

It is sad that such a talented woman was relegated to an unhappy marriage with a faithless, not to mention narcissistic husband, especially in a society where women had little recourse. I also wonder how much this motivated her to write her novel, The Tales of Genji, as a coping mechanism.

P.S. Sources used in this post include:

P.P.S. For folks who are visiting Kyoto, there are many excellent locations associated with the life of Lady Murasaki and the Tales of Genji. The featured photo above is the “Genji Garden”, part of the Buddhist temple of Rozan-ji, courtesy of PlusMinus, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons. This blog includes an excellent photo-tour of Rozan-ji.

Fashion of the Hyakunin Isshu

The fashion of the nobility of the Heian Period of Japanese history is fairly different than later, more familiar styles we often see in Japanese media like anime, manga, etc., because it reflects early Chinese influence, but also increasingly local innovations and culture. Further, as we’ll see, because the aristocracy was socially rigid and had many complex customs and rules, this affected how people dressed as well. Everyone knew their place, and their fashion reflected this too. I have touched on the subject a little bit here and here, but I always wanted to explore in depth. The issue was (until recently) a lack of resources and time. But, here we go.

Some great online resources for fashion during the Heian Period of Japanese history (c. 8th century to 12th century) can be found on this website (Google translated version here), and this site. The second link has some English in it, so even if you can’t read Japanese, it’s a great place to visit and look around.

However, for us Hyakunin Isshu poetry (and karuta) fans, you can see many great examples in the yomifuda cards too.

Women’s Fashion

This card, depicts Daini no Sanmi (poem 58, ありま) of the Hyakunin Isshu. The illustration, part of the Ogata Korin collection, shows her in full formal dress.

Like many women of the Heian Period, during formal occasions, she would wear multiple layers of kimono robes called junihito-é (十二単) which literally translates to “twelve robes”. The women of the court did not actually wear 12 layers, but it was much heavier and bulkier than kimono fashion of later centuries.

Here’s another example: Suō no Naishi (poem 67, はるの):

And another: Kōkamonin no Bettō (poem 88, なにはえ):

A few things worth pointing out…

  • The robes (hitoé, 単) were very long and thus hard to walk in.
  • Over the layers of robes, the women would wear a “Chinese jacket” (karaginu, 唐衣).
  • The white train in the back was called a mo (裳), which tied around the waist.
  • The women wore hakama (袴) trousers much like Japanese traditional clothing today.

You can see a really good example of this kind of fashion here. Definitely check out the link.

Men’s Fashion

Men’s formal wear, if you can believe it, was actually more complicated than women’s. Broadly speaking, it could be divided into three categories: civil bureaucrats, warriors (e.g. palace guards), and upper class nobility including the Emperor.

Imperial Advisors

Because the Imperial court of Japan was modeled after the Chinese-Confucian bureaucracy from antiquity, there are some similarities in the fashion of the civil servants (bunkan, 文官): black robes, similar hats, etc. We can see some examples here: Middle Counselor Yakamochi (poem 6, かさ):

and Middle Counselor Yukihira (poem 16, たち):

Some things to point out here:

  • The hat they wore, the sui-ei-kan (垂纓冠) was a black lacquer helmet, but in this case, also had a ribbon hanging down the back too.
  • Black silk overcoat called a ho (枹), based on Chinese-Confucian style.
  • The high collar in the back was called an agekubi (盤領)
  • In formal settings, men would also wield a small, flat wooden scepter called a shaku (笏).
  • The silk pants were a variation of the modern Japanese hakama called an ué-no-hakama (表袴).
  • Finally, the shoes were a kind of black lacquer clogs called asagutsu (浅沓). Similarly to the women’s formal wear, it was hard to walk in.

You can see some great examples of both the summer dress and the winter dress.

One thing to note is that even samurai warlords who ruled the country in later periods (see Sanetomo), when they came to the capital (jōraku 上洛) were expected to wear this kind of court dress befitting whatever rank they had been bestowed. Although the samurai class held true power, they were still technically part of the Imperial court so customs persisted.

Guards

For the palace guards and other military figures, the formal dress was similar to the bureaucrats above, but with some notable differences. A good example from the Hyakunin Isshu is Fujiwara no Michinobu (poem 52, あけ):

Noting the differences here:

  • Guards and military figures were equipped with a sword (ken, 剣), bow (yumi, 弓), and a quiver of arrows (ya, 矢).
  • The crown on their head was shaped in a loop, not a long trailing one. It was called a ken-ei-kan (巻纓冠) instead.
  • The crown also had two fan-like protrusions called oikake (緌).
  • Instead of black-lacquer clogs, the shoes were often pointed-toe boots called kanokutsu (靴).

You can see an example here.

Upper Nobility

The upper nobility wore clothing that was pretty similar to other members court, but with one major exception: the colors of their robes. Here you can see Prince Motoyoshi (poem 20, わび):

As eluded to in Lady Murasaki’s diary and other sources, there was a strict hierarchy within the Court nobility, which was reinforced by which colors of robes people were permitted to wear. This included colors such as green (shown here), orange (shown here) or white (shown here). The green linked above was, for example, permitted to courtiers of the sixth rank, or palace servants of the fourth rank. Wikipedia has list of forbidden colors, and what ranks were associated with each. The point is is that just by looking at someone’s robes, members of the aristocracy knew each other’s place.

The very upper class nobility, namely those of the Emperor and his family, are often depicted in white robes with red trimming, which is similar to those used by Shinto priests (shown here). It’s probable this was intended to reinforce the Imperial family’s divine lineage, but that’s just a guess on my part.

The fashion used in the yomifuda Karuta cards really tells us a lot about the culture that the poets of the Hyakunin Isshu lived in.

To War! Manyoshu Book One, Poem 8

Poetry about war is not something you will ever find in the Hyakunin Isshu, or other Imperial anthologies. So, I was quite surprised to find this poem in the Manyoshu.

ManyoganaJapaneseRomanizationTranslation1
熟田津尓熟田津にNikitatsu niI was going to wait for
船乗世武登船ふな乗りせむんとFunanorisen tothe moon to rise before
月待者月待てばTsuki matebaembarking from Nikita bay,
潮毛可奈比沼潮しほもかなひぬShio mo kanainubut the tide is up:
今者許藝乞菜今は漕ぎ出でなIma wa kogi-idé nago, row out now!
1 Translation by Kudō Rikio, Ōtani Masao, Satake Akihiro, Yamada Hideo, Yamazaki Yoshiyuki, ed. SNKBT: Man’yōshū, 4 vols. Iwanami, 1999–2003, originally found here.

This poem was recited by none other than Princess Nukata (Nukata no Okimi, 額田王, 7th century), whom we saw in these two poems. She wasn’t just a woman sought after by two emperors, but also played a small part in the effort to restore the Korean kingdom of Baekje.

A map of Korea in the 4th century showing the three kingdoms. Baekje is at the height of power at this time. Map by Historiographer at English Wikipedia, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

For centuries, the Korean Peninsula was divided into three kingdoms: Goguryeo, Silla and Baekje who constantly vied for control. Baekje, called Kudara (百済) in Japanese, was the country most closely allied with Japan in antiquity and helped bring much continental culture to the fledging Japanese court. They had a long-standing alliance.

But in 660, Baekje was crushed by the combined forces of Silla and their ally, Tang-Dynasty China (aka “Great Tang” as they called themselves). The remnants of the Baekje court fled to Japan and sought help to restore their kingdom.

With Japanese and Korean restoration forces mustered at beaches of Nikita (熟田) Bay in modern day Ehime Prefecture, Princess Nukata, writing on behalf of the Baekje sovereign, Prince Buyeo Pung, recited this poem to fire up the troops.

Sadly, the restoration effort gradually failed. The forces landed in former Baekje and made initial gains, but gradually lost steam, and then were crushed in 663 at the Battle of Baekgang. This was also the last time that Japan sent troops to the Korean Peninsula until the 16th century under Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s invasion of Korea.

As I wrote before, the Manyoshu, while technically Japan’s first poetry anthology, is a somewhat different beast than later anthologies and collections. The poetry techniques are less refined, but the Manyoshu is often revered for its more visceral nature, its breadth, and its small peeks into antiquity.

P.S. Korean history is fascinating too, and makes for some pretty nice K-Dramas which you can easily find on streaming media such as Netflix. If you’re not already a K-Drama fan, maybe look up a few and enjoy.

P.P.S. Before I found a proper translation, I was translating the final line as “Let’s row” in the same way that Optimus Prime from the Transformers would say “Roll out!”. Maybe less accurate but it sounds cool, especially coming from Princess Nukata. 😎

Love Triange, Part Two: Manyoshu Book One, Poem 21

A while back I wrote about a famous poem in the Manyoshu anthology by Princess Nukata addressed to her ex-husband Prince Oama (later Emperor Tenmu). It seems that the story of this forbidden encounter in a field of grass did not end there, because Prince Oama replied back…

ManyoganaJapaneseRomanizationRough Translation1
紫草能 紫草のMurasaki noHow could I possibly
尓保敝類妹乎にほへる妹をNioeru imo obe bitter to one so lovely
尓苦久有者憎くあらばNiku arabaas gromwell grass,
人嬬故尓人妻ゆゑにHitozuma yue niwhen even as someone’s wife
吾戀目八方我恋ひめやもAre koi me ya moI harbor feelings for you?
1 Apologies for any mistakes in this translation. This poem was particularly difficult for me.
Flowers from a Lithospermum erythrorhizon (murasaki) plant. Photo by titanium22 on Flickr, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Before we discuss the poet and the context, I wanted to briefly explain the plant described: murasaki (紫草). I had some trouble finding information on this plant, but it seems to be the species Lithospermum erythrorhizon which in English has a variety of names: purple gromwell, red stoneroot, red gromwell, etc.

Princess Nukata was Prince Oama’s ex-wife, but had remarried his older brother, Emperor Tenji (poem 1 in the Hyakunin Isshu), while the emperor had compelled Prince Oama to marry his own niece (Tenji’s daughter) Princess Unononosasara to strengthen the family line. Relations in the family were complicated. Later after Emperor Tenji died, Prince Oama went to war against Tenji’s son, and overthrew him to become Emperor Tenmu. Game of Thrones, Japanese ediiton.

Yet what makes this exchange of poems surprising is that both Princess Nukata’s poem, and Prince Oama’s were recited not in secret, but at a big public banquet in front of Emperor Tenji.

So, what’s going on here? Are they professing their love in defiance of the Emperor?

Well … no. My book on the Manyoshu strongly suggests that given the circumstances these poems were likely recited in jest. Maybe they did still have lingering feelings for one another, but the poems were not meant to reflect real life; they were meant to paint a beautiful, but surreal scene. The imagery is fantastic, and a testament to their poetic skills, but the scene described likely did not happen. This is not unusual with the poetry we’ve seen thus far on the blog: many poems paint idealistic scenes that might be based on real life, but didn’t necessarily happen.

Then again…. what if they recited their poems in jest in order to hide true feelings after all?

One can’t help but wonder…. 🤔

Feeling Young, Kokinshu Poem 52

While re-reading the Pillow Book lately, one of the people in Sei Shonagon’s anecdotes recites a poem from an Imperial anthology: the Kokin Wakashu (Kokinshu for short).1 When I looked up the poem, it really struck me when I read it. Since I have an English translation of the Kokin Wakashu, and since many of the poems from the Hyakunin Isshu were originally published in the Kokin Wakashu, I figured it would be fun to post other poems from the same anthology.

This poem, poem number 52 of the Kokin Wakashu, reads as follows:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
年ふればToshi furebaAs the years stream by
よはわひいはわ老いぬYowai wa oinumy own life passes from me
しかはあれどShika wa aredostill I am renewed
花をおし見ればHana oshi mirebawhen I but see the blossoms
物思もなしMono omoi mo nashimy heart’s sorrows disappear
Translation by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius

The headline of this poem reads “seeing cherry blossoms in a vase before the Somedono Consort [Empress]“.2

The author of the poem, Fujiwara no Yoshifusa (藤原良房, 804 – 872), was the first member of the Fujiwara clan to assume the post of Regent to the emperor. This was at a time when the Fujiwara were a rising star in the Imperial court, had married into the Imperial family, and Yoshifusa was the grandfather of the young Emperor Seiwa. So, he had much to celebrate. However, even the powerful grow old and die, and Yoshifusa was no exception.

What I really like about this poem is that in spite of his own fears of growing old, he still can enjoy life here and now and feel young again.

I am at the age where I can definitely start to feel my age, and the years ahead of me are likely fewer than the years behind me, and yet I am rarely bothered by it. I often find moments of joy in life, playing with my kids, enjoying nerdy fandom, and savoring poetry like this, so I know how Yoshifusa feels.

1 Nowadays, people quote movies, TV shows and such. I can quote more gags from The Simpsons than I care to admit. Back then, people quoted poetry from earlier generations.

2 Many poems in the Kokin Wakashu included a headline to explain the scene of the poem, or provide some background. These were not carried over when the poems were collected in the Hyakunin Isshu since they were already well-known poems, or possibly just for the sake of brevity.