June Updates and Lazy Izumi Poem

Hi all,

You may have noticed the blog looks a bit different now. I have been struggling since the big blog refresh I started in December 2022 to get the appearance just right. Design isn’t my forte (I am a history nerd), so I’ve struggled with finding the right design for this blog. The original blog template on WordPress was so old (this blog was started in 2011) that it was no longer supported by WordPress, so I had to find something else that works. After dabbling with a few designs this past year, I’ve settled on current blog template as of last week and I am pretty happy with it. I hope you all like the new design. I liked it so much I applied the same template to the other blog.

Next news: I will be off to Japan again this summer … though only briefly. The family and I will visit the ancient capitol of Kyoto, just like last year,1 but the visit overall is much more limited and I probably won’t get to see many things related to this blog. I won’t have time to visit Oishi Tengudo again, or Kitano Tenmangu Shrine, but I do however plan to make a stop at Kurumazaki Shrine (mentioned here) to pick up one of those Sei Shonagon (poem 62, yo wo komete) charms. I may try to work in a few other tourist spots related to the Lady Murasaki drama given that it’s popular right now. I also expect to melt under 35C(95F)-degree weather with 75% humidity again like last year.2

I have a few more posts coming up between now and the trip (late July), and I hope you will find them interesting.

Finally, just as a fun bonus, I wanted to share a one-off poem by Lady Izumi (poem 56, arazan) that I recently heard on a different Japanese historical drama. Lady Izumi is one of my personal favorite figures in the Hyakunin Isshu, and this poem was first recorded in an Imperial anthology, the Goshūi Wakashū (後拾遺和歌集), poem 755:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
黒髪のKuro kami noMy black hair’s
みだれもしらずmidarete shirazuin disarray — uncaring
うち臥せばuchi fusebahe lay down, and
まづかきやりしmazu kakiyarishifirst, gently smoothed it:
人ぞ恋しきhito zo koishikimy darling love.
Translation source: http://www.wakapoetry.net/gsis-xiii-755/

It’s not clear from this poem which lover she is referring to, since she had a number of relationships over the years, nonetheless it is a very sincere, romantic poem and expresses her passionate style nicely.

Happy Summer!

P.S. speaking of history nerd, I’ve debated about making a Japan / history podcast (like many other fine podcasts I follow), but have struggled to find a good theme. I might simply do the “history of the hyakunin isshu” podcast someday. It’s a bit commitment though, so we shall see.

1 While we do visit Japan yearly so my kids can spend the summer with their grandparents and extended family, visits to Kyoto are rare because of cost, time, and so on. Our last visit was almost 15 years ago. It just so happens that we could make two trips in two years. After that, who knows when we will visit next?

2 Without going into too many details, the humidity, heat and fluid loss aggravated an old medical issue I have. A reminder to stay hydrated, and avoid junk food. I like getting older in many ways, except at times like this. 😋

Lady Murasaki Drama

Hi folks!

I have been away for a while due to various life circumstances, but I’ve been wanting to share this news with readers.

The Japanese public TV station, NHK, broadcasts a new Taiga Drama (大河ドラマ) every year. These are big productions featuring some aspect of Japanese history, with big name actors and so on. I was very fond of the last one. Usually these cover periods of warfare or conflict, and male historical figures from Japan’s long history, but this year’s drama, titled Hikaru Kimi E (ひかる君へ, “Addressed to You [my dear Radiant One]”), features Lady Murasaki as the main character!

(Image by NHK, all rights reserved)

Lady Murasaki, poem 57 of the Hyakunin Isshu, needs little introduction. She composed the Tales of Genji, as well as her eponymous diary. She was the first female novelist in Japanese history, and has been a subject of interest ever since. The biographical details of her life are somewhat scant, unfortunately, and the drama does embellish quite a bit, including hinting strongly at a romance that probably didn’t happen in real life. My impression is that they are using romantic themes from her novel, the Tales of Genji, as the backdrop for the drama.

Nonetheless, I have been watching this series on Japanese TV1 and I enjoy it. It is somewhat different than past Taiga Drama, since it features a female main character, and this period of history (the late Heian Period), had little warfare, but it does have tons of scandal and intrigue as the Fujiwara clan tighten their grip on the reins of government. This drama is surprisingly risqué in parts, something you usually don’t see in a conservative Japanese drama. However, such scenes remind me more a more subdued Victorian romance than something in modern, American television.

That said, it’s a darn good drama thus far.

The drama frequently shows other people of the Heian period aristrocracy, many of whom were poets of the Hyakunin Isshu. To name a few who have been featured in the drama:

I admit I am particularly fond of the character Sei Shonagon. In historical pop culture, Sei Shonagon and Lady Murasaki are treated as rivals as they were both famous writers of the same generation who belong to rival cliques in the aristocracy, but in reality they probably didn’t interact much. Nonetheless, they frequently talk in the drama, and the actress who plays Sei Shonagon, stage name is “First Summer Uika” (ファーストサマーウイカ), is a talented actress and total babe:

She is on Instragram, too:

First Summer Uika also recently visited a Shinto shrine devoted to Sei Shonagon in Kyoto called Kurumazaki Jinja (車折神社), which even sells Sei Shonagon charms (omamori):2

But I digress.

Because the drama features so many people related to the Hyakunin Isshu, the drama subtly works in many poems from the anthology. It’s been great to suddenly recognize a poem being recited, even if I am a bit slow to recall. The settings, costumes, and cast are all amazing, and even though the historicity is questionable, it’s been a great watch.

I really hope they eventually make an English subtitle version so people outside Japan can watch. The quality of Taiga Dramas are terrific, and they are well worth watching if you can.

Update: while visiting Kyoto in 2024, we found a local NHK display of the drama:

The second photo above is First Summer Uika as Sei Shonagon.

1 Sadly there are not foreign translations, and no subtitles, and it is not always modern Japanese, so I admit I struggle at times to follow the story. At other times, I can follow easily enough.

2 We are going to visit Japan again this year (the last for our teenage daughter), including Kyoto. Visiting this shrine is definitely on the itinerary, even thought it’s pretty small.

I “Dew” Love You: Manyoshu Poem 88

This is a great example of a poem that’s very beautiful and sincere, yet also carries a darker history.

Original
Manyogana
1
Modern
Japanese
RomanizationRough
Translation
3
秋田之秋の田のAki no ta noLike the
穂上尒霧相穂の上に霧らHo no é ni kiraumorning dew atop
朝霞朝霞Asakasumirice plant buds,
何時渡邊乃方二何処辺の方にItsue no kata niwhenever will my
我戀将息わが恋止まWaga koi yamanlove for you evaporate?

This poem was composed by the wife of Emperor Nintoku, Iwanohimé no Ōkisaki (磐姫皇后) in the 4th century. Emperor Nintoku was a semi-legendary Emperor2 who was known for his sagacity and for his very long reign. They are both interned in famous Kofun mausoleums, Nintoku in Osaka (shown below), and Iwanohime in Nara:

Copyright © National Land Image Information (Color Aerial Photographs), Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism, Attribution, via Wikimedia Commons

Empress Iwanohime was a very devoted wife, and wrote many other love poems to Nintoku as collected in the Manyoshu. Another example here is here, book 2, poem 85:

Original
Manyogana
4
Modern
Japanese
RomanizationRough
Translation
君之行君が行きKimi ga yukiYour imperial outing
氣長成奴日長くなりぬKenagaku narinuhas gone on rather long, hasn’t it?
山多都祢山尋ねYama tazunéShall I come out
迎加将行か行かむMukae ka yukanto meet you?
待尒可将待待ちにか待たMachi ni kamatanOr, shall I wait for your return?

This poem sounds rather playful, and Iwanohime evidentially misses her husband and longs to see him again soon.

However, my book on the Manyoshu explains that the Iwanohime was also very clingy and jealous, since Nintoku had a frequent tendency to sleep around. In one infamous story recorded in the Kojiki, Nintoku slept with his own half-sister, Yata no Himémiko (八田皇女), while Iwanohime was away on family business. When she found out, she was quite furious and returned to her ancestral home, and refused to see him later when he apologized. Later, when Iwanohime passed away, Nintoku married that half-sister.

At first glance, Iwanohime’s poetry to Nintoku feels like a case of love and devotion, but given the stormy relationship they had, my book on the Manyoshu strongly implies that these poems also betray a sense of clingy desperation too.

P.S. Apologies for the terrible pun in the title. 😋

1 Sources: http://manyou.plabot.michikusa.jp/akinotano-honoheni.html and https://manyo-hyakka.pref.nara.jp/db/detailLink?cls=db_manyo&pkey=88

2 As noted in this post, the rulers of old “Yamato” were not actually Emperors are retroactively called emperors in later history since it is a single, continuous lineage with the modern Imperial family.

3 Apologies for any mistakes here.

4 Sources: https://manyo-hyakka.pref.nara.jp/db/detailLink?cls=db_manyo&pkey=85 and https://jti.lib.virginia.edu/japanese/manyoshu/Man2Yos.html and http://manyou.plabot.michikusa.jp/manyousyu2_90.html

Love Triangles and Forbidden Fields: Manyoshu Book 1, Poem 20

Now that the year is winding down, I have had time to catch up on some personal projects, and that includes watching the anime Chihayafuru. In season one episode 12, I was surprised to see one of the characters recite a poem, not from the Hyakunin Isshu, but from the Manyoshu, so I wanted to share it here:

Original
Manyogana
1
Modern
Japanese
RomanizationTranslation
茜草指あかねさすAkanesasuThe crimson sunset
武良前野逝紫野行きMurasaki no yukisets these forbidden fields
標野行標野行きShime no yukiaglow.
野守者不見哉野守は見ずやNomori wa mizuyaWave not,
君之袖布流君が袖振るKimi ga sodé furufor the guards might find us.
Translation provided by Chihayafuru

This poem was composed by Princess Nukata (額田王, Nukata no Ōkimi), who was the wife of Emperor Tenji (who composed poem 1 in the Hyakunin Isshu). According to Chihayafuru, Princess Nukata had formerly been married to Tenji’s younger brother, Prince Oama (大海人皇子, Ōama no Miko). Although they had separated, Prince Oama snuck into the Emperor’s lands and waved to her. She was worried that they would be seen, hence the poem.

But, here’s where things get interesting: Princess Nukata recited this poem at a banquet attended by her husband, Tenji, and her ex-husband Prince Oama. What’s going on?

My book on the Manyoshu provides further context. Prince Oama and Emperor Tenji had a …. complicated relationship. Tenji was ambitious and wanted to strengthen his own family lineage, so he pressured Prince Oama to marry his daughter Princess Unonosarara better known as Empress Jito (poem 2 of the Hyakunin Isshu). Tenmu was thus forced to marry his own niece. Further, Tenji designated Prince Oama as his heir until much later when he finally gave birth to a son. Later, after Tenji’s passing, the son was made Emperor briefly, but Prince Oama quickly raised an army and marched on the capitol and became the next Emperor, Tenmu.

Nonetheless, this poem is brilliant because of the visual imagery, but also relatable feeling of unresolved feelings towards someone you still care about.

But as we shall see, the story doesn’t end there… stay tuned.

1 Source: https://art-tags.net/manyo/one/m0020.html and https://tankanokoto.com/2019/04/nukata.html

The Manyoshu: Japan’s First Poetry Anthology

Centuries before the Hyakunin Isshu was compiled and before official Imperial anthologies such as the Kokin Wakashū were promulgated there was the Manyoshu (万葉集) or “collection of ten thousand leaves”.

Link to publisher here.

The Manyoshu is the oldest extant poetry collection, completed in 759 CE for the pious Emperor Shomu, and has much that resembles the Hyakunin Isshu, but also much that differs. I have been reading all about it in a fun book, which is in the same series as this one.

The Manyoshu was purportedly compiled by one Ōtomo no Yakamochi (大伴家持, 718-785), author of poem 6 (かささぎの) in the Hyakunin Isshu, but it’s also likely that he only compiled the collection toward the end, and that others were involved too.

Sadly, English translations are very few in number and usually quite expensive. Translating the Hyakunin Isshu hard enough, and this is even more true with a larger, more obscure volume like the Manyoshu.

Format

The Manyoshu is a collection of poems from a diverse set of sources, including members of the Imperial family and the aristocracy, but also from many provinces across the country and people from many walks of life. In fact, 40% of the poems in the collection are anonymous, with sources unknown. It also includes a few different styles of poetry:

  • 265 chōka (長歌), long poems that have 5-7 syllable format over and over (e.g. 5-7-5-7-5-7…etc), until they end with a 5-7-7 syllable ending. These are often read aloud during public functions. Kakinomoto no Hitomaro (柿本 人麻呂, 653–655, or 707–710?), who wrote poem 3 in the Hyakunin Isshu, was considered the foremost poet of this format, but the longest was composed by one Takechi no Miko (高市皇子) at 149 verses.
  • 4,207 tanka (短歌), short poems as opposed to the long poems above. The “tanka” style poems are usually 5-7-5-7-7 syllables long, and are what we see in later anthologies such as the Hyakunin Isshu. At the time, they were often included as prologues to long poems above. The Hyakunin Isshu is entirely tanka poetry, by the way.
  • One an-renga (short connecting poem),
  • One bussokusekika (a poem in the form 5-7-5-7-7-7; named for the poems inscribed on the Buddha’s footprints at Yakushi-ji temple in Nara),
  • Four kanshi (漢詩), Chinese-style poems often popular with male aristocrats that contrasted with more Japanese-style poetry.
  • 22 Chinese prose passages.

Additionally, these poems were often grouped by certain subjects:

  • Sōmonka (相聞歌) – Originally poems to enquire how someone was doing, but gradually involved into couples expressing romantic feelings for one another.
  • Banka (挽歌) – Funerary poems honoring the deceased.
  • Zōka (雑歌) – Miscellaneous poems about many topics. Basically everything else that is not included into the other two topics.

Manyogana

One of the interesting aspects of the Manyoshu compared to the later Hyakunin Isshu, and other related anthologies, is the written script used. When people think of karuta or Hyakunin Isshu, they think of the hiragana script, but the hiragana script didn’t exist in the 8th century when texts such as the Manyoshu, the Kojiki or Nihon Shoki were composed. Such texts were composed purely using Chinese characters, but in a phonetic style native to Japanese later called Manyogana. Confusing? Let’s take a look.

The book above explains that in Manyogana, Chinese characters such as 安 and 以 are read phonetically in the Manyoshu as “a” and “i” respectively. Even modern Japanese people can easily intuit this.

Then you get more difficult examples such as 相 (saga) and 鴨 (kamo) in Manyogana. These are more obscure, but still possible for native Japanese speakers to understand them.

Then you get much harder examples such as 慍 (ikari) and 炊 (kashiki).

And finally you get even more difficult examples such as 五十 (also read as “i“) and 可愛 (just “e“). My wife, who has an extensive background in Japanese calligraphy, struggled with these.

In any case, words in the Manyoshu were all spelled out using Chinese characters like this, with no phonetic guide. You just had to know how to read or spell them, and as you can imagine this was a clunky system that only well-educated members of the aristocracy could make sense of. However in spite of its issues, this system of phonetic Chinese characters is how the later hiragana script gradually evolved.

Technique

When we compare the Manyoshu with the Hyakunin Isshu, there are many similarities. Both have tanka poetry (5-7-5-7-7 syllables), and cover a variety of topics. Further, both collections make good use of pillow words. In fact the same pillow words you see in the Hyakunin Isshu, such as hisakata no (poems 33 and 76), also show up centuries earlier in the Manyoshu:

Original ManyoganaModern JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation1
和何則能尓  我が園にWaga sono niPerhaps
宇米能波奈知流梅の花散るUme no hana chiruthe plum blossoms will
比佐可多能ひさかたのHisakata noscatter in my garden
阿米欲里由吉能天より雪のAma yori yuki nolike falling snow
那何久流加母流れ来るかもNagarekuru kamofrom the gleaming heavens
1 Amateur translation, apologies for any mistakes

This poem, incidentally was composed by Yakamochi’s father, Ōtomo no Tabito, when he organized a flower viewing party at his villa (book 5, poem 822).

Another commonality, the book explains, is the use of preface verses or jo-kotoba (序詞) where the first verses are just one long-winded comparison to whatever comes after. Poem 39 in the Hyakunin Isshu is a great example of this since the first 3 verses describe various grasses in order to make a point: that love is hard to hide.

The Manyoshu used this technique as well:

Original ManyoganaModern JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
千鳥鳴千鳥鳴くChidori nakuJust as the plovers’ cries
佐保乃河瀬之佐保の川瀬のSabo no kawase noalong the wavelets
小浪さざれ波Sazare namiof the Sabo river
止時毛無やむ時もなしYamu toki mo nashinever end,
吾戀者我が恋ふらくはA ga ko furaku waso too are my feelings of love.
Author: Ōtomo no Saka no Ue no Iratsume (大伴坂上郎女), book 4, poem 526

Historicity

Similar to the Hyakunin Isshu, the Manyoshu covers a fairly broad span of history, but much of it is now pretty obscure to historians. Even so, the poems in the Mayonshu can be grouped somewhat reliably into 4 specific eras:

  • first half of 5th century to 672 CE, starting with the reign of Emperor Nintoku onward.
  • 672 to 710 CE
  • 710 to 733 CE
  • 733 to 759 CE

These periods mostly coincide with certain authors who contributed poetry, but also appear to have breaks due to historical events such as conflicts, temporary political upheavals, etc.

Differences with the Hyakunin Isshu

Although there are many commonalities between the Hyakunin Isshu and the Manyoshu, there are also differences. The most obvious is that the Manyoshu is a mixed-format collection, so it includes poetry other than Tanka style. Another difference is its broad sources for poetry, not just contributions by the elite aristocracy.

However, the book above notes that on a technical level there are other differences.

For example, the use of “pivot words” frequently used in the Hyakunin Isshu ( poems 16, 20, 27, and 88 for example) is a technique that is almost absent in the Manyoshu. Similarly, puns are also rarely used.

Legacy

As the largest and earliest extant poetry collection, it set the standard for Japanese poetry that people were still studying and emulating centuries later. Poems such as 22, 64, and 88 are all examples that use themes or poetic styles that closely resemble poems in the Manyoshu.

Further, compared to more polished anthologies that came later, the Manyoshu’s bucolic and unvarnished content has often been revered by later generations (including Japanese nationalists and Shinto revivalists in the 19th century) for getting to the “heart of Japanese culture”.

The book has been a great read, with amazing illustrations, and it helps show how the roots of the Hyakunin Isshu, including a few of its early authors, lay centuries earlier in the Manyoshu.

Burning with Longing: Poem Number 97

At last, faithful readers, we come to the final poem of the Hyakunin Isshu, composed by the anthology’s compiler himself!

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
こぬ人をKonu hito woFor the man who doesn’t
come
まつの浦のMatsuo no ura noI wait at the Bay of Matsuo—
ゆうなぎにYunagi niin the evening calm
やくやもしYaku ya moshio nowhere they boil seaweed
for salt,
身もこがれつつMi mo kogaretsutsuI, too, burn with longing!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by Supernumerary Middle Counselor Sada’ie (権中納言定家, 1162-1241), better known as Fujiwara no Teika, or alternatively Fujiwara no Sadaie.1 He is considered one of the greatest poets in all of Japanese history. Teika was the compiler of this Hyakunin Isshu anthology and was also one of the major compilers of the official Shin Kokin Wakashū anthology. He was also the tutor for Shokushi Naishinno (poem 89), and it is thought that they had a romantic relationship too, though eventually they would be separated for good. In any case, his talent and his family’s influence were so great that the family virtually monopolized the Court poetry for centuries to come. But we’ll talk more about that shortly.

Fujiwara no Teika composed many of his own poems in his lifetime, and yet in compiling the Hyakunin Isshu, why did he select this particular poem for inclusion?

Like many of the later poems in the anthology (poem 90, 91 and 94), this poem alludes to a much older one. In Teika’s case, his poem alludes all the way back to the original anthology in Japan, the Manyoshu. Unlike later anthologies, the Manyoshu was a loose connection of poems, compiled 400+ years before Teika, and the particular poem he alludes to was written from the perspective of a man whose love was burning for a woman like the boiling of seaweed at Matsuo Bay. As you can see, Teika reversed the perspective to be that of a woman, while still alluding to the original. Additionally, Teika gives his poem a sadder tone than the poem from the Manyoshu, which came to be a hallmark of Teika’s style.

Incidentally, Matsuo Bay (written as Matsuho 松帆 here) is on the very northern tip of the famous Awaji Island in the Inland Sea. It is a scenic part of Awaji Island, and even has its own homepage. Awaji Island is also the scene for poem 78. The technique of extracting salt by boiling seaweed, or moshio (藻塩) is a time-honored tradition in Japan, and the seaweed gives the salt a special flavor. There’s a really good article about it here.

Fujiwara no Teika was a master of expressing yūgen (幽玄) or subtle, profound beauty in his poetry. This kind of subtle beauty centuries later came to influence other arts in time in Japan including Noh theater, tea-ceremony, etc.

But who was Fujiwara no Teika?

Teika, alternatively read as Sada’ie, was born from an illustrious family of poets though a minor branch of the powerful Fujiwara clan. His grandfather was Fujiwara no Toshitada and his father was Shunzei (poem 83). As a youth, Teika was a sickly boy but as the eldest son, he was obligated to carry on the family legacy. Unfortunately due to complex court politics, Teika was overlooked for much of his early life. However after a fortunate turn of events, he was noticed by Emperor Go-Toba (poem 99) who eventually commissioned him to compile two new anthologies, including the Shin Kokin Wakashū.

Over time though, Teika and Emperor Gotoba disagreed over poetry and compiling the anthology, leading to an increasingly distant and cold relationship. Teika found Gotoba overbearing, while Gotoba didn’t care for Teika’s free-wheeling style. At times, Teika and Gotoba openly criticized one another through poetry, or in their diary entries, and Gotoba even banished Teika for a year from the capitol. Teika meanwhile grew closer to Gotoba’s son who later became Emperor Juntoku (poem 100), while Gotoba became increasingly occupied with the martial arts, and with wresting power back from the samurai rulers in Kamakura (cf. poem 93)

Unfortunately for Emperor Gotoba, his meager forces were utterly routed by the Kamakura army in the short-lived Jōkyū War, and Gotoba was sent into exile (since it was sacrilege to kill the Emperor). Teika was not involved in the war, so he remained in Kyoto, and even reached the Imperial post of Middle Counselor. During this time, he also completed another Imperial anthology, the Shin Chokusen Wakashū, which shows more of his down-to-earth later style.

Finally though, his health declined from old age and from the famine at the time, so he retired and took Buddhist tonsure. It was during his final years in a Buddhist monastery that he was invited by his son’s father-in-law, Lord Utsunomiya no Yoritsuna, to his villa at Mount Ogura near Kyoto.

This stone marker at Jojakko-ji Temple in west Kyoto, near Arashiyama, marks where Teika had compiled the Hyakunin Isshu. More on that in this post. Photo taken in August 2024.

Lord Utsunomiya asked Teika to compile 100 poems in his own hand, so that they could be adorned on the silk screens of his villa, and these 100 eventually became the collection that we know today.

After Teika died at the age of 80, he was interred at Shokoku-ji Temple in Kyoto. The featured photo above shows his grave marker (Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.). His grandchildren formed into three rival schools of Waka poetry that dominated the poetry scene for centuries:

  • Nijō School (nijō-ha 二条派) – the conservative and dominant school at first. Over time, a series of misfortunes eventually caused the school to decline and fade by the medieval period in Japanese history.
  • Reizei School (reizei-ke 冷泉家) – the more liberal branch, but a few generations later became the dominant branch. By the middle of the Muromachi Period, two branches had formed: the upper Reizei school (kamireizei 上冷泉家) and the lower Reizei school (shimoreizei 下冷泉家), which the upper school prevailing in the long-run. This school still maintains a large compound in Kyoto to this day.
  • Kyōgoku School (kyōgoku-ha 京極派) – this school died out in only a couple generations.

But more importantly, the legacy of Fujiwara no Teika is in his celebrated poetry anthologies, particularly this one. Even today, many kids in Japan enjoy playing uta-garuta in school competitions, and there are even Japanese anime about the Hyakunin Isshu. All of this is due to Teika’s talent and taste for selecting good poetry.

And now, this anthology is enjoyed by international readers like yourself. This blog was a originally a little experiment of mine, but I have enjoyed your readership, your comments, and of course your support. Thank you everyone from the bottom of my heart.

As this is the 100th and final poem of the Hyakunin Isshu, that is all I have to offer on this blog. I may take it up again sometime in the future and cover other anthologies like the Kokinshu and the Shinkokinshu, but for now, I decided that I prefer to leave it as it is.

All good things must come to an end, after all.

1 The Chinese characters (kanji) for his given name (定家) have multiple readings possible, and both are seemingly correct. However, based on a cursory glance in Japanese, it seems that “Teika” is the more common reading.

Even At Low Tide: Poem 92

Another poem dedicated to those who were lonely for Valentine’s Day recently:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
わがそではWaga sodé waMy sleeves are like
しおに見えぬShioi ni mienuthe rock in the offing that
沖の石のOki no ishi nocan’t be seen even at low tide,
人こそしらねHito koso shiranéunknown to anyone, but
かはくまもなしKawaku mamo nashithere’s not a moment they are dry.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of this poem is Nijōin no Sanuki (二条院讃岐, 1141 – 1217), also known as “Lady Sanuki of Nijōin”. Her real name isn’t known. It is known that she was a daughter of famous warrior/poet Minamoto no Yorimasa and served the retired Emperor Nijō, hence her name nijōin (Imperial House of Nijō). The “Sanuki” part comes from Sanuki Province where her father was once posted on assignment.

Sanuki, like Sokushi, was a leading female poet of her day, and this poem helps illustrate why. As we discussed recently in poem 90, the image of sleeves wet with tears was a popular poetic technique used at the time for unrequited love (again, see poems 42, 65, and 72) but the idea of such sleeves being hidden like a submerged rock offshore was a novel, new way of expressing this.

Indeed, Sanuki became so famous for this verse, she herself was often referred to as oki no ishi no Sanuki (沖の石の讃岐) by later poets and authors. It was pretty rare for a poet to receive such a name for a famous verse they composed but a few other examples exist. Another female poet named kunaikyō (宮内卿) was called wakakusa no kunaikyō (若草の宮内卿) because of a famous verse she wrote regarding young grass (wakakusa, 若草) from the Shin Kokin Wakashū:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
薄く濃きUsuku kokiLight and dark:
野辺のみどりのNobe no midori nothe green of the field’s
若草のWakakusa noyoung herbs
あとまで見ゆるAto made miyurudistinct in
雪のむら消えYuki no muragiepatches of fading snow.
Translation source unknown

Pretty awesome when you can make a name for yourself that way.

Fisherwomen’s Sleeves: Poem Number 90

This poem is a clever variation on the “sleeves wet with tears” poems we often see in the Hyakunin Isshu:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
見せばやなMisebaya naHow I’d like to show him!
島のあまのOjima no ama noThe sleeves of the fishermen
袖だにもSode dani moof Male Island
ぬれにぞぬれしNure ni zo nureshiwhen it comes to wet, are wet indeed,
色はからずIro wa kawarazubut their color doesn’t change!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of this poem is Inpumon-in no Taiyu (殷富門院大輔, dates unknown) or “Taiyu of the Household of Princess Ryōshi”. She served Princess Ryōshi (“Inpumon-in”), the daughter of Emperor Go-Shirakawa. Princess Ryōshi was also known as Inpumon-in (殷富門院) hence the name here. Taiyu was an accomplished poet and another member of the elite “Garden in the Poetic Forest” group (see poem 85).

The poem here, according to Mostow, is a 200-year old rebuttal of an earlier poem that celebrates the “wet sleeves” of the fisherman of Matsushima, but saying “if you think their sleeves are wet, mine are even more wet and stained with blood-red tears!” We’ve seen other “sleeves wet with tears” poems in the Hyakunin Isshu, namely poem 65, poem 72, and my favorite poem 42. But Taiyu takes this one to a new level, I think. 🙂

Regarding the location, “Male Island” (雄島, Oshima in Japanese) is one of 200+ tiny islands in a famous island chain called Matsushima (松島) in modern-day Miyagi Prefecture. The featured photo above is Matsushima (photo by Chensiyuan, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons). The islands are all pretty small, and very scenic, and each has their own unique name. However, in the 2011 Great Tohoku Earthquake, the area was badly devastated and still recovering.

In any case, poets from antiquity and centuries later used Matsushima in their poetry and it’s easy to see why.

One other point worth mentioning is that this poem, and poem 89 use a clever trick in Japanese poetry called kugire (句切れ). The idea is to add a single syllable in there, usually on the first line, in order to add impact, but also as a filler to help maintain the standard 5-7-5-7-7 lines in Waka poetry. In this poem the kugire is on the first line, at the end: 見せばや (mi-se-ba-ya-na), while in poem 89 it is 玉の緒 (ta-ma-no-o-yo).

You can see this technique centuries later in Japanese haiku, such as in the famous poem by Basho in the year 1686:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
古池Furu ike yaAn ancient pond!
蛙飛びこむKawazu tobikomuA frog jumps in;
水の音Mizu no otothe splash of water…
My amateur translation…

This haiku was composed 500+ years after the poems of the Hyakunin Isshu, but it’s interesting how some poetic-devices never quite get old.

Sleepless Nights: Poem Number 85

Whereas the last love poem expressed love and anxiety after a first-meeting, this poem is quite a different story:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
夜もすがらYo mo sugaraAll through the night
もの思ころはMono omou koro warecently, as I dwell on things,
明けやらでAke yaradeeven the gap between
the doors
ねやのひまさNeya no hima saeof my bedroom, which
does not lighten,
つれなかりけりTsure nakari keriseems cruel and heartless
to me.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author is a Buddhist monk named Shun’e Hōshi (俊恵法師, 1113 – ?), or “Dharma Master Shun’e” who was the son of Minamoto no Toshiyori (poem 74) and grandson of Minamoto no Tsunenobu (poem 71). Though he had taken tonsure, Shun’e was quite a social figure and gathered many poets and writers around him and his residence called the Karin’en (歌林苑, “Garden in the Poetic Woods”). According to Professor Mostow, one of his students was a famous writer named Kamo no Chōmei who wrote the “Account of a Ten Foot Hut” or Hōjōki.

This poem is another example of when a poem expressing a woman’s anguish is written by a man, presumably on a set topic for a poetry contest. Other examples include poem 18 and poem 21. Obviously being able to express a woman’s feelings, namely that of a jilted lover, so well from a male author was not an easy task, and was a mark of excellent poetic skill, and not surprisingly Shun’e is counted among the Later Six Immortals of Poetry.

The respect that male actors in later Kabuki theater who specialize in female roles earn probably has a similar origin.

P.S. Featured photo is a scene from the illustrated Murasaki Shikibu Nikki Emaki, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

The Plovers’ Cry: Poem Number 78

As the weather gets colder, I’ve been saving this one for a time like this:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
淡路あわじAwaji shimaThe crying voices
かよ千鳥のKayou chidori noof the plovers who visit
鳴くこえNaku koe nifrom Awaji Island—
いく夜ねざめぬIkuyo nezamenuhow many nights have
they awakened him,
須磨の関守Suma no sekimorithe barrier-keepers of Suma?
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of the poem, Minamoto no Kanemasa (源兼昌, dates unknown) was a frequent participant in poetry contests of the day, but overall very little is known about him, and it doesn’t appear he had any poetry collections of his own.

The first time I read this poem, in Japanese, I misunderstood the phrase chidori (千鳥) to literally mean 1,000 birds (in other words, a lot of birds). But in fact, chidori refers specifically to plover birds. The featured photo above shows a Western Snowy Plover bird on Morro Strand State Beach, Morro Bay, CA, “Mike” Michael L. Baird, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

In Japanese poetry plover represented winter, and for other seasons, other birds typically were frequently used:

The location, Awaji Island, is a well known part of Japan’s inland sea, and is culturally significant since antiquity. Though at this time in history, it felt a bit remote from the capitol.

Professor Mostow notes that this poem uses some strange grammar though. For example nezamenu would normally mean to not wake up, but in this context means “have they awakened” instead. Also, he notes that this poem apparently alludes to the Tales of Genji, specifically the “Suma” chapter, when the prince Genji was in exile.

All told, this poem paints a sad, somber picture that fits well with wintry days.