Thepoem from the Manyoshu feels like an ancient Japanese dad-joke. Read it out loud and you’ll see what I mean:
Manyogana
Modern Japanese
Romanization
Rough Translation
淑人乃
よき人の
Yoki hito no
Men of old
良跡吉見而
よしとよく見て
Yoshito yoku mite
came to Yoshino
好常言師
よしと言ひし
Yoshito ii shi
and declared it a good place,
芳野吉見与
吉野よく見よ
Yoshino yoku miyo
So, good sons, go
良人四来三
よき人よく見
Yoki hito yoku mi
and 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.
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.
Manyogana
Japanese
Romanization
Translation1
熟田津尓
熟田津に
Nikitatsu ni
I was going to wait for
船乗世武登
船乗りせむと
Funanorisen to
the moon to rise before
月待者
月待てば
Tsuki mateba
embarking from Nikita bay,
潮毛可奈比沼
潮もかなひぬ
Shio mo kanainu
but the tide is up:
今者許藝乞菜
今は漕ぎ出でな
Ima wa kogi-idé na
go, 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 twopoems. 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. 😎
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…
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?
This is a great example of a poem that’s very beautiful and sincere, yet also carries a darker history.
Original Manyogana1
Modern Japanese
Romanization
Rough Translation3
秋田之
秋の田の
Aki no ta no
Like the
穂上尒霧相
穂の上に霧らふ
Ho no é ni kirau
morning dew atop
朝霞
朝霞
Asakasumi
rice plant buds,
何時渡邊乃方二
何処辺の方に
Itsue no kata ni
whenever will my
我戀将息
わが恋ひ止まむ
Waga koi yaman
love 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:
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 Manyogana4
Modern Japanese
Romanization
Rough Translation
君之行
君が行き
Kimi ga yuki
Your imperial outing
氣長成奴
日長くなりぬ
Kenagaku narinu
has gone on rather long, hasn’t it?
山多都祢
山尋ね
Yama tazuné
Shall I come out
迎加将行
迎へか行かむ
Mukae ka yukan
to meet you?
待尒可将待
待ちにか待たむ
Machi ni kamatan
Or, 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. 😋
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.
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 Manyogana1
Modern Japanese
Romanization
Translation
茜草指
あかねさす
Akanesasu
The crimson sunset
武良前野逝
紫野行き
Murasaki no yuki
sets these forbidden fields
標野行
標野行き
Shime no yuki
aglow.
野守者不見哉
野守は見ずや
Nomori wa mizuya
Wave not,
君之袖布流
君が袖振る
Kimi ga sodé furu
for 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.
Due to length and complexity of poem, plus it’s very old Japanese, I can only offer a rough translation (based on modern Japanese ones) like so:
A basket. The beauty holding the basket. A digging tool (lit. a spatula-like tool). The beauty holding the digging tool. You who are on the hill gathering vegetables, tell me, what family do you come from? Do you not know? I am the sovereign of this land (lit. Yamato, old name for Japan), and that every corner is under my dominion? So, tell me, what is your family’s name and origin?
This poem was composed by Emperor Yūryaku, who reigned in the 5th century, before recorded history. Technically, the title of “Emperor” was not used by ancestors of the Japanese imperial family at this time, and was later implemented by the time of Emperor Tenmu, brother of Tenji (poem 1), but this is a retroactive title. At this time, Yūryaku and others of the lineage were more like great kings (daiō 大王). Interestingly, although this point in Japanese history is pretty murky, Yūryaku is mentioned on a dedication inscribed on an ancient sword, providing historical evidence that he did in fact exist.
Yūryaku was described in early historical documents as a strong ruler, who slew his brothers following the death of the last king/emperor to get to his position. In later years, he helped consolidate power, but also was described as tyrannical as well.
The poor girl whom the poem was addressed to probably wasn’t in any position to say “no”, in any case.
The reason why I posted this poem is two-fold.
First, this poem is noticeably different than the tanka (短歌, “short poem”) style poems of the Hyakunin Isshu. This is a chōka (長歌, “long poem”) style poem. Tanka poems, including all poems of the Hyakunin Isshu, follow the style of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables. Chōka poems were 5-7-5-7-5-7…..5-7-7 syllables, with as many 5-7 syllable verses as needed. The Manyoshu has both formats, but by the time of the Hyakunin Isshu, the chōka format had fallen out of favor, probably because it was simply too long and difficult to fire off verses quickly.
Yūryaku’s poem doesn’t fit the chōka format very closely though, so it’s hard to say how strict poetry was back then. Over the centuries, and by the time we get towards the end of the Hyakunin Isshu, the style poetry had definitely solidified into a very rigid format with many specific rules, customs, and phrases. Yūryaku’s poem reflects an earlier, looser style of poetry. Or, as a powerful sovereign, maybe he just didn’t care. Who’s to say?
Second, the tone of the poem (ignoring the power-imbalance between him and the girl1) is a very lighthearted and romantic tone. Early poems in the Hyakunin Isshu tended to have a similar tone, but gradually the tone tended to get more somber centuries later as the aristocratic culture came to an end. Compare poems 95-100 to poem 1-5 in the Hyakunin Ishsu, and you’ll see what I mean. Yūryaku’s poem definitely belongs to this earlier, more bucolic time.
Anyhow, it’s interesting how poetry reflects history as well.
1 When you look at Lady Murasaki’s diary as well, when Michinaga makes a pass at one of the servant girls, it’s strongly implied a visit later will certainly follow. Again, women back then had less agency, and would have been hard-put to say no to powerful, ambitious men like that.
The Hyakunin Isshu 
