Tag: Love

The Cold Morning: Poem Number 52

For our final poem for Valentine’s Day, I thought this was another good choice:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
明けぬればAkenurebaBecause it has dawned,
暮るるものとはKururu mono to wait will become night again—
知りながらShiri nagarathis I know, and yet,
なほおうらめしきNao urameshikiah, how hateful it is—
あさぼらけかなAsaborake kanathe first cold light of morning!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author of the poem, Fujiwara no Michinobu Ason (藤原道信朝臣, 972-994), was the adopted son of the powerful Fujiwara no Kane’ie, husband of the mother of Michitsuna (poem 53) and subject of the Gossamer Years. His birth mother was the daughter of Fujiwara no Koretada (poem 45). Michinobu for his part, benefitted from his adoptive father’s influence, and rose to the Court rank of 4th-upper, and a position as part of the Imperial Guard (sakon no chūjō, 左近中将).

However, Michinobu seemed more interested in Waka poetry than in politics. He was close with Fujiwara no Sanekata (poem 51) and Fujiwara no Kinto (poem 55), and would often gather with them for poetry sessions. Further, Michinobu had a secret relationship with one of the court ladies under Emperor Kazan, named Enshi Jo-ō (婉子女王), but eventually he lost her to a political marriage with the powerful Fujiwara no Sanesuke. Sadly, Michinobu later died from due smallpox, which took his life at the age of 23.

This is another classic “Morning After” poem, which we’ve featured here, here and here.

Lord Michinobu dreads the rising sun because it means he has to sneak back to his own residence, away from his lover. Judging by his reaction, it must have been a night well-spent together. 😏

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Lost Without An Oar: Poem Number 46

Hello,

Continuing our theme for Valentine’s Day, this poem is quite fitting and another example of a “love poem” from the 40’s section of the Hyakunin Isshu:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
由良の門をYura no to woLike a boatman, crossing
わたる舟人Wataru funabitothe Strait of Yura,
かぢじをたえKaji wo taewhose oar-cord has snapped,
ゆくへえもしらぬYukue mo shiranuI’m lost and know not my way
恋こいの道かなKoi no michi kanaon the road of love!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, Sone no Yoshitada (曾禰好忠, dates unknown), lived toward the end of the 11th century, but as Mostow writes, very little else is known about him. Apparently he was a prolific poet and had his own collection, which was common among the aristocracy of day, but his style was considered unconventional and unappreciated until the time of Fujiwara no Teika (poem 97), who compiled the Hyakunin Isshu.

The poem is somewhat confusing, Mostow explains, for two reasons. The first is that the location of “Yura” isn’t know, but exists in both Kii and Tango provinces. Since Yoshitada was a secretary in the province Tango, perhaps he meant that Yura, but it’s only speculation on my part. The second is the phrase kaji wo tae (かぢをたえ), the third line. It can either be read as kaji wo tae (to lose an oar), or kaji-o tae (the oar cord snaps). Mostow makes a convincing argument for the latter.

But in any case, I think we all know that feeling when we were young and experienced love for the first time how happy, yet lost we were. Things haven’t changed in 900 years it seems. 🥰

A Cold Shoulder: Poem Number 45

This is another poem in our series leading up to Valentine’s Day. This one is perhaps a bit more unrequited, than the last poem I posted here:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
あはわれともAwaré to moNot one person who would
いふうべき人はIu beki hito wacall my plight pathetic
思ほおえでOmoedécomes at all to mind,
身のいたづずらにMi no itazura niand so, uselessly,
なりぬべきかなNarinu beki kanaI must surely die!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by Kentokukō (謙徳公, 924-972) also known as “Lord Kentoku”, or simply Fujiwara no Koremasa. Koremasa served as regent to the Emperor from 970 onward, and was frequently involved in compiling (and writing poems for) the second Imperial anthology of the time, the Gosenshō.

The poem, simply put, is Koremasa’s efforts to gain a girl’s attention, even after she spurned him previously. Mostow explains that according to the original sources, this poem was composed by Koremasa thinking “I will not be defeated!” and sent this poem as a last-ditch effort.

Nowadays, we might call such people stalkers, but at the time, this kind of persistent, dramatic effort wasn’t unusual. Men of the Court might try months if not years to gain a girl’s attention, and if she spurned him a few times, he might have chosen to persist, or possibly find a new lover.

P.S. Featured photo is a scene of the Chapter “TAKEKAWA “(Bamboo River) of Illustrated handscroll of Tale of Genji (written by MURASAKI SHIKIBU(11th cent.)., Unknown author, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Changed One’s Life: Poem Number 43

I can’t believe it’s been a year since my last series of love poems for Valentine’s Day. But, here we are again! This poem is the first in a series I’ll be posting before Valentine’s Day:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
逢ひい見てのAi mite noWhen compared to
後の心にNochi no kokoro nithe feelings in my heart
くらぶればKuraburebaafter we’d met and loved,
むかしは物をMukashi wa mono woI realize that in the past
思はわざりけりOmowazari keriI had no cares at all.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The poet, Supernumerary Middle Counselor Atsutada (権中納言敦忠, 906-943), also known as Fujiwara no Atsutada, was among the sons of the power minister Fujiwara no Tokihira (the same man who had Sugawara no Michizane exiled, poem 24), and was one of the Thirty-Six Immortals of Poetry, as well as an accomplished poet all-around. Sadly, like his father Tokihira, Atsutada, according to my new book, died young in his 30’s and rumors swirled at the time that this was Michizane’s vengeful ghost. Such rumors help provide the impetus for Michizane’s later deification as a means of pacifying him.

The book also states that Atsutada was quite a playboy in his time. No sooner had he got into a relationship with Ukon (poem 38), then he dumped her, prompting her to write a bitter poem about it. On the other hand, Atsutada kept up a long, passionate correspondence with the daughter of Emperor Daigo, Masako, until she was sent away to be the high priestess of Ise Shrine. It was a heartbreaking separation we are told.

This is a classic “morning-after” poem (kinuginu no uta, 後朝の歌) which we’ve talked about in Poem 50 and Poem 30. The author’s love and longing have only increased, not decreased since their first meeting together.

As written before, meeting one’s lover was a huge ordeal among the aristocrats of the Heian Court in Japan. It wasn’t like meeting someone online today, or just going to have coffee together. Men and women were constantly separated from one another, and one would be lucky to catch sight of a woman’s sleeve back then, let alone her face. So, a first meeting required a long, drawn out courtship of exchanging poetry, and somehow arranging a way to meet that wouldn’t catch the public eye. Worse, if the meeting didn’t go well, then it was kind of a wasted effort and breaking up would be awkward as well. Or, if word got out, it could cause a scandal. Discretion was essential.

But, when things hit it off so well like this, it’s a cause to celebrate. 🙂

P.S. Featured photo is a scene (AZUMA YA: East Wing) from the Illustrated scroll of the Tale of Genji (written by MURASAKI SHIKIBU (11th cent.) Courtesy of Wikipedia

Have We Met? Poem Number 27

This poem may look straightforward, but it turns out that this is a technical masterpiece:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
みかの原Mika no haraLike Izumi River
わきてながるるWakite nagaruruthat wells up and flows,
泉川いずみがわIzumi-gawadividing the Moors of Urns
いつ見きとてかItsu mi kitote kawhen did I see her, I wonder,
恋こいしかるらむんKoishi karuranthat I should yearn for her so?
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by Chūnagon Kanesuke (中納言兼輔, 877 – 933), or “Middle Counselor Kanésuké”. He is also known as Fujiwara no Kanésuké. He was the cousin of Sadataka (poem 25), and the great-grandfather of Lady Murasaki (poem 57). Lady Murasaki even used some of his poetry in her work, The Tales of Genji.

Because Kanesuke had a particularly nice residence just beside the dam of the Kamo River, he was also nicknamed the Tsutsumi (堤, “river bank”) Middle Counselor. This residence was a popular gathering place for the who’s-who of his time including Tsurayuki (poem 35) and Mitsune (poem 29). He is also listed among the Thirty-Six Immortals of Poetry as well.

As Mostow points out, this poem is quite clever on a technical level. It uses a preface (the first three lines are a preface to the 4th), poetic place names (Izumi River is actually a real river called the Kizu-gawa 木津川 pictured above from Wikipedia), and pivot-words. The pivot word is izumi which can mean a spring (泉) which wells up, but also rhymes somewhat with the 4th line which says itsu mi as in “when did I see (her?)” (いつ見).

Interestingly though, Mostow points out that this poem may not actually be composed by Kanesuke given that it was originally listed as “anonymous” in the original anthology it came from. Also, as Mostow explains, it’s unclear from the poem whether this is a poem about lovers who met and cannot meet again, or lovers who actually haven’t met yet.

All in all, an interesting poem to examine by a famed poet of the day.

P.S. featured photo is of the Izumi River, near Kyoto, in modern times. Photo by 吉田宅浪, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Long Goodbyes: Poem Number 30

Hi all,

New year is here, and I guess it’s time to say “goodbye” to the old one. This poem is also happens to be about good-byes of another sort.

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
有明のAriaké noThere is nothing so depressing
つれなくみえしTsurenaku mieshias the break of day and
別れよりWakare yorileaving you after
暁ばかりAkatsuki bakarihaving seen the heartless
うきものはなしUki mono wa nashimorning moon.
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, Mibu no Tadamine (壬生忠岑, dates unknown), is one of the Thirty-Six Immortals of Poetry and was the father of Tadami (poem 41). He was also one of the official compilers of the official anthology, the Kokinshū, along with Ōshikōchi no Mitsune (poem 29).

By all accounts, this appears to be another famous “morning after poem”, similar to the one seen in poem 50. The term, ariake (有明) is a poetic term for the last-rising moon, in the last-half of the lunar cycle, which you can still see in the morning.1 On the other hand, as Professor Mostow points out, the fact that the moon was heartless could also imply lover who spent all night waiting to see his lover but was never received and finally went home at dawn.

Either way, the morning moon seems to carry a lot of significance for romantic types back then.

1 Similarly, akatsuki (暁) is a poetic term for daybreak.

A Bold Declaration of Love: Poem Number 20

Hi everyone,

This poem has quite a story behind it and relates a little to the poem posted previously:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
わびぬればWabi nurebaMiserable,
今はた同じIma hata onajinow, it is all the same,
難波わなるNaniwa naruChannel-markers at Naniwa—
みをつくしてもMi wo tsukushitemoeven if it costs my life,
あはわむんとぞ思ふうAwan to zo omouI will see you again!
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The poem’s author, Motoyoshi Shinnō (元良親王, 890 – 943), the Crown Prince Motoyoshi, was the eldest son of the mad Emperor Yozei (poem 13), who was forced to abdicate prematurely. This likely affected Motoyoshi’s chances of assuming the throne, and before long Emperor Koko (poem 15) was enthroned instead. As an Imperial prince with nothing to do, Motoyoshi turned all his energy to women. My new book points out that the poetry collection that Motoyoshi left behind is almost entirely about women and sex.

According to commentaries, this poem was real and not part of a themed poetry contest. Motoyoshi, apparently, was in love with one of the hand-maidens of the retired Emperor Uda. The maiden, daughter of the powerful Fujiwara no Tokihira, had already given birth to 3 sons for Emperor Uda and was highly favored by him, but Motoyoshi persisted in his love, even if it cost him his reputation. Bear in mind that this was the same Fujiwara no Tokihira who was instrumental in getting Uda’s favorite advisor, Sugawara no Michizane (poem 24), exiled.

The main “pivot word” here is the phrase mi wo tsukushitemo, where miotsukushi (澪標) are famous water-markers in Japanese culture as pictured above, photograph taken during the Meiji era (Unknown author, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons). But the poem can also be read as 身を尽くしても meaning “even if it exhausts my life”. So, rather than the subtle romantic allusions your normally see in poetry from this era, Motoyoshi is going all-out and making a big gamble.

Public Scrutiny: Poem Number 18

This was something many aristocrats in the old Heian court days probably faced:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
住の江のSumi no e noMust you so avoid others’ eyes
岸による波Kishi ni yoru namithat not even at night,
よるさへえやYoru sae yaalong the road of dreams,
夢のかよひい路じYume no kayoi jiwill you draw nigh like the waves
人目よくらむんHito me yoku ranto the shore of Sumi-no-e Bay?
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by Fujiwara no Toshiyuki Ason (藤原敏行朝臣, ? – 901) who was one of the Thirty-Six Immortals of Poetry, and was an active participant of poetry contests in his day and noted for his excellent calligraphy. His calligraphy was so good, he was often compared with the talented Buddhist monk and founder of the Shingon sect, Kukai.1 Coupled with his long life-span, he has a great presence in poetry and calligraphy during his era. My new book mentions that both he and one Ariwara no Norihira were both infamous playboys, and ended up marrying sisters. Needless to say his wild episodes were recorded in certain tales at the time.

In fact, this poem is part of a poetry contest held in 953, presumably under the theme of forbidden or another similar topic. The poem uses a clever pun for yoru. The first yoru in the poem refers to the waves visiting (寄る in modern day Japanese) the shore of Sumi-no-e Bay (modern day Osaka Bay, specifically Sumiyoshi).

The second yoru means night (夜). The author’s submission to the poetry contents laments that public scrutiny in the small, tightly-knit aristocracy of the Heian Period was so intense that his lover couldn’t even visit him even in his dreams. Professor Mostow points out that the poem can also be interpreted that he could not visit his lover in his dreams, as well.

Because it was such a closed and stratified society, gossip was rampant, and an embarrassing situation could destroy one’s career and family reputation. Forbidden love was something many in the Heian Court faced, and no doubt Toshiyuki’s poem resonated with such people.

1 Kukai (a.k.a. “Kōbō Daishi” posthumously) was so famous for his calligraphy, a phrase exists even to this day in Japanese:

弘法にも筆の誤り
kōbō ni mo fudé no ayamari

even Kobo Daishi’s brush makes mistakes

Who’s Fault Is It? Poem Number 14

This poem has an interesting connection with the city and region of Fukushima as we shall see:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
みちのくのMichinoku noWhose fault is it
しのぶもぢじずりShinobu mojizurithat my feelings have begun
to tangle
たれゆゑえにTare yue nilike the tangle-patterned prints
乱れそめにしMidare some niof Shinobu from the
distant north?
我ならなくにWare naranaku niSince it is not mine, it must be…
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

The author, Kawara no Sadaijin (河原左大臣, 822 – 895), “Riverbank Minister of the Left”. His personal name was Minamoto no Toru, renowned for his courtly elegance, and Professor Mostow thinks he may have served as a partial role-model for the famous hero of the Tale of Genji.

The poem is thought to be Toru’s defense to his wife or lover about his faithfulness, but he uses some interesting imagery to convey how upset he is that his faithfulness is questioned. Mostow points out that the poem is a subject of debate because it’s also been interpreted as an expression of secret love to someone else (i.e. “why did you make me feel this way”?).

The place referenced, Shinobu in Michinoku, is the old name for what is now the city of Fukushima in Fukushima Prefecture. Although it is now known for last year’s earthquake and nuclear disaster, the area was originally a frontier area during the time of the Nara and Heian periods, and as evinced in the poem above, famous for it’s patterned cloth called shinobu mojizuri.

The term mojizuri refers to a type of plant, Spiranthes sinensis var. amoena pictured above (photo by Qwert1234, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons), a variety of orchid found in east Asia. It’s also called nejibana in modern Japanese. However, mojizuri also refers to a kind of dyed-cloth pattern made from the plant. The method involves pressing a cloth between the plant and a rock, forming dyed patterns like the ones shown here. This the context that Minamoto no Toru is using in the poem.

The Morning After: Poem Number 50

To celebrate our 50th poem on this blog, I am posting poem 50, which happens to be a particularly good one:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
君がためKimi ga tameEven the life that
をおしからざりしOshi karazarishiI’d not have been sorry to lose
命さへえInochi saejust to meet you once,
ながくもがなとNagaku mo gana tonow, having met, I think:
おもひいけるかなOmoi keru ka na“I want it to last forever!”
Translation by Dr Joshua Mostow

This poem was composed by one Fujiwara no Yoshitaka (藤原義孝, 954 – 974), the third son of Fujiwara Koremasa (poem 45). It was composed and sent after spending the night with his lover. These kind of “morning after” poems are very common at the time because lovers could not meet openly during the day, so they often met at night and slept together. The term for this kind of poem is kinuginu no uta (後朝の歌), and were often a way of sharing feelings after the two have parted company.

As Mostow also explains, it’s not clear why he valued his life so little, but the main interpretation is that he loved her so much, he was willing to throw his life away just to meet her. Other interpretations are, among other things, that he would have thrown away his life for her sake if he could.

What really makes this poem extra tragic though, is that Yoshitaka died at the age of twenty (he lived from 954 to 974), from smallpox. We don’t know what happened between him and his lover, but at least his words live on.

Anyhow, we’re at the halfway-point of this blog, and I wanted to thank everyone for your support. The biggest thanks go to Professor Mostow who graciously allowed me to use his translations for this blog (if you like to study the Hyakunin Isshu more in depth, I recommend his book).

And we’ve still got 50 to go. 🙂