This is the opening poem of the Manyoshu, Japan’s earliest poem anthology, an anthology that a few early Hyakunin Isshu poets also contributed too.

Original Manyogana1	Modern Japanese	Romanization
籠毛與	籠（こ）もよ	Ko mo yo
美籠母乳	み籠（こ）持ち	Miko mochi
布久思毛與	掘串（ふくし）もよ	Fukushi mo yo
美夫君志持	み掘串（ぶくし）持ち	Mibukushi mochi
此岳尓	この丘に	Kono oka ni
菜採須兒	菜摘（なつ）ます児（こ）	Natsu masu ko
家吉閑名	家聞かな	Ie kikana
告紗根	名告（なの）らさね	Nanorasane
虚見津	そらみつ	Soramitsu
山跡乃國者	大和（やまと）の国は	Yamato no kuni ha
押奈戸手	おしなべて	Oshinabete
吾許曽居	われこそ居（お）れ	Ware koso ore
師吉名倍手	しきなべて	Shiki nabete
吾己曽座	われこそ座（ま）せ	Ware koso mase
我許背齒	われにこそは	Ware ni koso wa
告目	告（の）らめ	Norame
家呼毛名雄母	家をも名をも	Ie wo mo na wo mo

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Yūryaku was described in early historical documents as a strong ruler, who slew his brothers following the death of the last king/emperor to get to his position.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.