Tag: Love

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!
雄お島のあまの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,
色はかはわらず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: 見せばやな (mi-se-ba-ya-na), while in poem 89 it is 玉の緒よ (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
古池や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
もの思ふうころはMono omou koro warecently, as I dwell on things,
明けやらでAke yaradeeven the gap between
the doors
ねやのひまさへえ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
淡路あわじ島Awaji shimaThe crying voices
かよふう千鳥のKayou chidori noof the plovers who visit
鳴く声こえに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.

Disheleved: Poem Number 80

A clever morning-after love poem that I felt was fun to share:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
長からむんNagakaranI do not even know
心も知らずKokoro mo shirazuhow long your feelings
will last.
黒髪のKurokami noMy long black hair
乱れてけさはMidarete kesa wais all disheveled and,
this morning,
ものをこそ思へえMono wo koso omoemy thoughts too are
in a tangle!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of this poem is Taikenmon-in no Horikawa (待賢門院堀川, dates unknown), or “Lady Horikawa of the household of Empress Taiken”. Empress Taiken was the consort to Emperor Toba, and was the mother of Emperor Sutoku (poem 77) who was later exiled.

The use of imagery of “disheveled hair” was a common device often used by women, or writing poetry about women, to express feelings of frustration or anxiety.

As we’ve seen before, morning-after poems were very popular at this time in Japan as many of the aristocracy of the Heian Court would have love trysts between each other. Often the first meeting was the morning important, not surprisingly. It set the tone for the rest of the relationship, so a meeting like this was often celebrated in poetry.

Of course, there was another side to these trysts in the Heian Period too.

P.S. Featured photo is Gypsy in Reflection, by Gustave Courbet, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Lamentations: Poem Number 86

Another Autumn moon poem, but with an interesting twist:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
なげけとてNageke tote“Lament!” does it say?
月やは物をTsuki ya wa mono woIs it the moon that makes me
思はわするOmowasurudwell on things? —No,
and yet,
かこち顔がおなるKakochi gao narulook at the tears flowing
down
わがなみだかなWaga namida kanamy reproachful face!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by the Saigyō Hōshi (西行法師, 1118 – 1190), or “Dharma Master Saigyō” a famous Buddhist monk and poet from the era. Saigyo’s story is interesting in of itself, and I blogged more about it on the other blog, including additional poetry, but let me post a summary here.

In his youth, his name was Sato no Norikiyo and he was a promising young man in the Heian Court, and caught the attention of Emperor Toba, Emperor Sutoku (poem 77) and also Taira no Kiyomori, the most powerful man at the time and who later featured as a villain in the famous Tales of the Heike and a many dramas on Japanese TV.

However, Norikiyo grew disillusioned with the nasty politics and infighting in the Court, and abruptly decided to throw it all away. He left behind his career, his wife and children, and became a wandering mendicant. He took on the Buddhist name Saigyo (西行) and stayed at the famous mountain-monastery of Koyasan for monastic training. Later, he returned to the capitol to find everything had changed. The Hogen Rebellion had destroyed much of the capitol, Emperor Sutoku was exiled (having lost), and Kiyomori ruled as a warlord. A few years later, Kiyomori and the entire Heike clan were utterly destroyed in the famous Genpei War, which also spelled the end of the historical Heian Period. What might have happened had Norikiyo stayed and followed his career, rather than leave the capitol?

In any case, with the new samurai government at Kamakura (thus, the Kamakura Period of Japanese history), things settled down in Japan and Saigyo traveled around. He devoted his life to writing poetry, lamenting the loss of his former patrons, admiring the beautiful nature in Japan, and about life in general. He finally settled down in the outskirts of Osaka, and passed away at the age of 73. It was said that when he passed away, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom and that he died on the same day that Shakyamuni Buddha died (February 15th according to solar calendar).

He was also friends with Shunzei (poem 83), according to Professor Mostow.

Anyhow, this poem is, according to Professor Mostow, possibly inspired by a poem by famous Chinese poet Bo Juyi centuries earlier, and is supposed the express the feelings of a resentful lover. Is the moon making him/her tearful? Maybe, maybe not, but gazing up at the moon brings them such sadness anyway.

Saigyo’s talent with poetry and his interesting life story have certainly helped him earn a place in the Hyakunin Isshu, but also inspired many later poets such as Basho and others. Basho the Haiku master, in his travels, went to visit places frequented by Saigyo among others.

Thanks for Nothing: Poem Number 75

This is another autumn-themed poem, but with an interesting story behind it:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
ちぎりをきしChigiri okishiDepending with my life
させもがつゆをSasemo ga tsuyu woon promises that fell thick
命にてInochi ni teas dew on sasemo plants—
あはわれことしのAware kotoshi noalas! the autumn of
this year too
秋もいぬめりAki mo inumeriseems to be passing.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of the poem, Fujiwara no Mototoshi (藤原基俊, 1060 – 1142), was a leading poet of the famous Insei Period of Japanese history, along with his contemporary Toshiyori (poem 74), but according to my new book, was never particularly successful as a bureaucrat.

According to both Professor Mostow and my new book, this poem was written as a complaint to the former Chancellor and Buddhist lay-novice (upasaka) named Tadamichi, the same man who composed poem 76.

Mototoshi’s complaint is that his son, better known as Bishop Kōkaku of Kofukuji Temple, wanted to preside over the annual lecture on the Vimalakirti Sutra, an important Buddhist text. This occasion was known as the yuima-e (維摩会) and was rather prestigious within the bureaucratic monastic system of the time. Being the chosen lecturer would have fast-tracked Mototoshi’s son to other opportunities. In spite of Tadamichi’s promises to help, year after year Mototoshi’s son was passed up, and so Mototoshi sent this poem as a complaint.

The term sasemo is another way of saying sashimo, which in modern Japanese is the yomogi (ヨモギ) plant. In English, this is better known as the Japanese mugwort, pictured above. We saw the use of mugwort as well back in poem 51, though for a very different reason. The featured photo above shows Japanese Mugwort (yomogi, ヨモギ) leaves, photo by Sphl, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Sasemo plants inspired an earlier, more Buddhist poem, which Mototoshi alludes to:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
なお頼めNao tanomeStill rely on me!
しめぢが原のShimeji ga hara nofor I will help those of
させも草Sasemo-gusathis world for as long
わが世の中にWa ga yo no naka nias there are sasemo-plants
あらむ限りはAramu kagiri wain the fields of Shimeji
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This was attributed to Kannon, the Buddhist deity (bodhisattva) of compassion who promised to rescue all beings in the world. This poem was in the Shinkokin wakashū, number 1917.

Thanks to Professor Mostow for the double-translation this week. If you haven’t already, definitely show him some love and check out his excellent translations. 🙂

Backfired: Poem Number 74

Even the Hyakunin Isshu has its comedic moments:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
うかりけるUkarikeru“Make that heartless
人をはつせのHito wo hatsuse nowoman, O mountain storm
山おろしよYama oroshiyoof Hatsuse Temple—
はげしかれとはHageshikareto wacrueller still!”—this is not
祈らぬものをInoranu mono wowhat I prayed for, and yet…
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author is Minamoto no Toshiyori Ason (源俊頼朝臣, 1055 – 1129), “Sir Minamoto no Toshiyori”, who is the son of Tsunenobu (poem 71) and father of Shun’e (poem 85) and was also a leading poet of his era, along with Mototoshi (poem 75). Toshiyori’s talents were not limited to poetry. According to my new book, he excelled at playing an instrument called the hichiriki, enough that he was invited to serve in the Imperial court under Emperor Horikawa. We went on to serve three Emperors in this capacity, and helped compile the unusually eclectic Imperial Anthology the Kinyō Wakashū, as well as many poems of his own in various anthologies.

The poem above was actually composed during a poetry contest held at the residence of Fujiwara no Toshitada, grandfather of Fujiwara no Teika (poem 97) who compiled the Hyakunin Isshu. The topic of the contest was “unfulfilled love so strong that one even prays to the gods”. The poem expresses frustration after having prayed to be able to meet a certain woman, and somehow she became even more resistant. As Professor Mostow explains, Teika valued this poem very highly because of its depth of feeling, excellent word choices, and clever story-telling (see below).

The name “Hatsuse Temple” is another name for a famous Buddhist temple in Nara, Japan called Hasedera. Hasedera is very well-known in Japan, and apparently was a frequent pilgrimage site for lovers and those with romantic interests. If you ever do happen to be in Japan, especially in the Nara area, I’d highly recommend visiting Hasedera temple.

This poem is listed as a “winter” poem, but I was really confused why this is since the topic sounds more like unrequited love. I checked my source, which explains that Toshiyori went up to Hatsuse Temple to pray, and then came back down (yama-oroshi, 山おろし) in the third verse. This symbolism of coming back down the mountain is evidentially considered a powerful symbol of winter. Perhaps this relates to New Year’s prayers and such. This third verse is also a neat dividing technique between the first half, praying at the temple, and the second half, the girl he was fond of despising him even more.

Catch Me If You Can: Poem Number 72

This is a more light-hearted poem in contrast to the previous one:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
音にきくOto ni kikuKnown far and wide,
高師の浜のTakashi no hama nothe unpredictable waves
あだ浪はAdanami waof Takashi’s beach—
かけじや袖のKakeji ya sode noI will not let them catch me—
ぬれもこそすれNure mo koso sureFor I’d be sorry should
my sleeves get wet!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of this poem was known only as Yūshi Naishinnō Ke no Kii (祐子内親王家紀伊, dates unknown) or “Kii of Princess Yūshi’s Household”. She served in the household of Imperial Princess Yūshi, and was the daughter of Taira no Tsunekata and one Lady Koben. The salon of Princess Yūshi included a number of poets and writers and it seems Kii was no exception. She participated in a number of poetry contests and her poems appear in various anthologies.

Speaking of contests, Professor Mostow explains that this poem actually was intended as a response to another poem in a competition held by Retired Emperor Horikawa. Kii was 70 years old at the time according to another source, which is impressive given that she expresses young love so easily after all these years.

The word adanami in the third verse is a particularly interesting phrase. It implies flowers that failed to bear fruit, and thus infidelity. Apparently the women in the poem is not a fool and won’t fall for a dishonest man.

But where is Takashi beach? I checked and it seems to be a famous beach in Osaka Bay, near modern-day Takaishi City in the Osaka Metropolitan Area.

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
春の夜のHaru no yo noWith your arm as my pillow
夢ばかりなるYume bakari narufor no more than a brief
たまくらにTamakura nispring night’s dream,
かひいなく立たむんKainaku tatanhow I would regret my name
名こそをおしけれNa koso oshikerecoming, pointlessly, to ‘arm!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, known as Suō no Naishi (周防内侍, dates unknown), the “Suō Handmaid”, was so named because her father was governor Suō 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 Nijō-In (二条院), 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 (御簾, 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. 😏

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
うらみわびUramiwabiAlthough there are
ほさぬそでだにHosanu sodé da nimy sleeves that never dry,
あるものをAru mono wobitter and sad,
恋にくちなむんKoi ni kuchinanwhat I really regret is
名こそをおしけれNa koso oshikerémy name, made rotten by love!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author is Sagami (相模, 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 (袖, sodé) 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. The photo above, taken by ロリ (CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons) is an example of the jū-ni-hitoé (十二単) 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 junihitoé 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.