Odd Spellings in the Hyakunin Isshu

A blog reader recently left a comment about this, and I realized that this would make a good topic for discussion, especially if are you are trying to memorize the Hyakunin Isshu, or learn karuta. If you know even a little modern Japanese, you may soon start to notice that the hiragana spellings for some words aren’t always what you expect. For example, the fourth verse of poem 2 reads:

ころもほすてふ

But it reads as:

koromo hosu chou (not te-fu)

Another verse that threw me off recently was poem 44:

逢うことの

In modern Japanese, this would read as au koto no, but in the Hyakunin Isshu it is read as ou koto no.

Then there are other examples throughout, too many to list. The issue is that Japanese language, like any language, changes over time. People don’t speak or pronounce things the same as they did 1,000+ years ago.1 English language, for example, has undergone some dramatic sound-changes in the last 500 years, and yet the spelling was never updated. Hence, English spelling is confusing now.

Japanese underwent a similar change. Hiragana script at the time when it was first adopted was probably phonetic and intuitive to native speakers. However, fast-forward 1,000 years and it has long since diverged from the way people pronounce it.

This was finally fixed after World War II when the modern Hiragana spelling system was used, but old literature such as the Hyakunin Isshu remained as is. Hence, spelling of words in the Hyakunin Isshu differs from the modern Japanese equivalents.

For this reason, Japanese students of the Hyakunin Isshu often rely on furigana pronunciation guides when reading about the Hyakunin Isshu. For example, this excerpt from a Chihayafuru manga my daughter has shows examples of furigana usage:

From the manga ちはやと覚える百人一首
(“Remember the Hyakunin Isshu with Chihaya”)

Further, some hiragana themselves are pronounced differently:

  • ひ (modern “hi”) is pronounced like い (“i”), see poem 12.
  • The aforementioned てふ (modern “te-fu”) is pronounced like ちょう (“cho-u”), see poem 2.
  • Similarly, けふ (modern “ke-fu”) is pronounced like きょう (“kyo-u”), see poem 54 and poem 61.
  • ぢ is pronounced the same as じ (“ji”), see poem 12.
  • おもふ (modern “o-mo-fu”) is pronounced as おもう (“o-mo-u”), see poem 85.
  • Archaic hiragana ゑ (“weh”) and ゐ (“wi”) are pronounced as え (“eh”) and い (“i”), see poem 5 or poem 14.
  • を (“wo”) is pronounced the same as お (“o”), see poem 12.
  • む (modern “mu”) is often pronounced as ん (“n”), but only if it’s at the end of a word, see poem 3.

And so on. If unsure, just listen to audio readings of the Hyakunin Isshu and you’ll often get a feel for how it’s pronounced anyway. Or, note the furigana text above the letter, as this provides a visual cue for native Japanese speakers. Whatever the furigana says is correct. Just be aware that the spellings differ from modern, standard Japanese, and that this is a common feature of pre-modern Japanese literature. There are patterns to this, and once you get used to it, you don’t even think about it anymore.

P.S. if you think the history of hiragana script is confusing, the history of romaji (Roman alphabet for Japanese) is even nuttier.

1 I always find it mildly amusing (or annoying) when time-travel movies have everyone speaking perfect English, often British-accented English. I get that it’s hard to work in another language, especially finding actors who can pronounce it reliably, but still….

Poetry as Wordplay: Poem Number 22

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

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
ふくからにFuku kara niAs soon as it blows,
秋の草木のAki no kusaki nothe autumn trees and grasses
るればShiorurebadroop, and this must be why,
むべ山風をMube yama kaze oquite rightly, the
mountain wind
あらしといArashi to iuranis 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 and wind , 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 . 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):

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
雪降ればYuki furebaBecause the snow fell
木毎に花ぞKigoto ni hana zoWhite “blossoms”, one by one,
吹きにけるFukinikeruSprout on the tree.
いづれを梅とIzure wo ume toHow am I to tell the blossoms from the snow
わきて折らましWakite oramashiWithout 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