This sad, miserable poem was ironically composed by a famous poet of his era named Gokyōgoku Sesshō Saki no Daijōdaijin (後京極摂政前太政大臣, 1169-1206) or ”The Gokyōboku Regent and Former Chancellor”, also known as Fujiwara no Yoshitsune. He was the grandfather was Jien (poem 95). He was another member of the elite poetry family, the Mikohidari (see Jakuren poem 87) and was very well-represented in the Shin Kokin Wakashū poetry anthology which he was an editor. Elsewhere, as a scion of the Fujiwara family, he served as regent to the young Emperor Tsuchimikado, but unexpectedly died at the age of 36.
Astute readers may have noticed that this poem sounds similar, especially in Japanese, to a very early poem in the anthology by Hitomaro (poem 3). Even the last line is the same.
But part of the poem also seems similar to another poem in the Shin Kokin Wakashū anthology according to Professor Mostow, which relates to cold reed-mats and waiting alone. So, in a sense, this poem blends two famous poems and adds the novelty of crickets (kirigirisu) which symbolize autumn.
But as we’ve seen with poem 90, it was an accepted practice at the time to write poetry which allude to older poems in the poems. Indeed, as the author of the blog, I admit I kind of enjoyed this poem more when I noticed the final line and realized I had heard it before. So, I guess the amusement is not limited to 11th century Japanese aristocrats. 😉
Yoshitsune certainly never had to spend a night in the cold as a member of the elite Fujiwara family, but his ability to weave old poetry verses together and paint such a sad picture help explain why he was such a famous poet.
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:
Japanese
Romanization
Translation
古池や
Furu ike ya
An ancient pond!
蛙飛びこむ
Kawazu tobikomu
A frog jumps in;
水の音
Mizu no oto
the 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.
This poem was composed by Lady Bettō (dates unknown), known in the Anthology as Kōkamon’in no Bettō (皇嘉門院別当). Lady Bettō served in the house of Empress Seishi, wife of Emperor Sutoku (poem 77). Lady Bettō was also the daughter of Minamoto no Yoshitaka.
Although the life of Lady Bettō is relatively unknown, and she doesn’t appear in many anthologies, Professor Mostow points out that her poem is quite a technical feat. There are not one, but three “pivot words”, or words that carry multiple meanings, and lend multiple interpretations to the poem:
karine can mean cutting a root (刈り根) or a brief nap (仮寝) such as when traveling.
hitoyo can mean either a single segment of a reed (一節) or a single night (一夜).
mi wo tsukushi can mean either to exhaust one’s body (身を尽くし) or one of the famous barriers in Osaka Bay (澪標, see also poem 20)
The poem itself uses many familiar themes too. We’ve seen a lot of poems that feature Osaka Bay, called Naniwa in ancient times, including poem 20, poem 19 and poem 72 among others. Similarly, we see references to reeds, just as we do in poem 39 and poem 19 (again).
What makes this poem stand out is the excellent use of word-play throughout. On the surface, it looks like just another love poem, but Lady Bettō knew what she was doing. 😌
P.S. Featured photo is of reeds (species Phragmites) in Amsterdam, photo by PersianDutchNetwork, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
This poem was composed by Jakuren Hōshi (寂蓮法師, 1139 – 1202), “Dharma-master Jakuren”, whose name was originally Fujiwara no Sadanaga before he took tonsure. He is a nephew of Shunzei (poem 83) and according to Professor Mostow a leading poets in the house of Mikohidari. He helped to compile the official poetry anthologies at the time, but died before completion.
Professor Mostow points out that Fujiwara no Teika (poem 97), another member of the House of Mikohidari, didn’t praise this poem at first, and it made the “cutting floor” of the Imperial anthology that Jakuren helped compile, the Shin-Kokinshū, or in other anthologies. And yet, years later, it appears here in the Hyakunin Isshu by Fujiwara no Teika. The poem is generally viewed as a simple, straightforward descriptive poem, which is perhaps why it wasn’t as highly revered as other more subtle poems, or poems with more of a backstory.
Still, I think anyone can appreciate the scenery painted in this poem even today.
Interestingly, the poetic verse kiri tachinoboru (霧立ち上る) or “the mist is already rising”, was coined by Jakuren and was associated with him by later poets and commentators.
P.S. I’ve been away from the blog for a couple months raising our new little boy and keeping up with holidays. Now that things are finally quieting down, I hope to complete the final 7 poems (aside from this one). I’m still debating on further topics for this blog, and suggestions or requests are always appreciated.
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 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.
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.
Aswe’veseenbefore, 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
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.
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.
This poem was composed by Fujiwara no Kiyosuke Ason (藤原清輔朝臣, 1104 – 1177), “Sir Fujiwara no Kiyosuke”, who was the second son of Fujiwara no Akisuke (poem 79). Kiyosuke’s grandfather, Fujiwara no Akisué (藤原顕季) had founded the Rokujo School of poetry, and passed it along to Akisuke. However, there is evidence that Akisuke and his son Kiyosuke got along poorly. Real poorly.
The Rokujo School published an Imperially-sponsored anthology titled the Shikashiyū (詞花集), Kiyosuke was snubbed and not a single poem of his was included. Ouch. Further, in Kiyosuke’s career ambitions, Akisuke went out of his way to hinder his son finding lucrative positions in the Imperial Court. Thus, Kiyosuke never succeeded in the Court bureaucracy.
Ironically, Professor Mostow states that after his father Akisuke died, Kiyosuke inherited his position as head of the Rokujo School anyway. From here, he officiated poetry contests, and the Rokujo School took in success, so much so that it eventually developed a rivalry with Fujiwara no Shunzei (poem 83). Sadly, his efforts to publish another anthology, the Shokushikashu (続詞花集) dried up after Emperor Nijo died.
At heart, this poem is about nostalgia, how bitter things now somehow soften over time. It is thought that Kiyosuke may have recited this poem around the age of 60, and was thus looking back. Given his harsh upbringing, you can probably imagine why. But even the modern reader can think of a bitter time in their life, but when looking back nostalgia makes it seem sweeter than it was at the time. It’s also a reminder that if we are going through a hard time now, it won’t always be that way in the future.
Professor Mostow points out that some commentators think this may have, more concretely, alluded to the decline of the times, and in particular the disastrous Hōgen Rebellion, mentioned also in poem 76 and poem 77, and poem 86. That same rebellion ultimately began the rapid decline of the aristocratic Heian Period, epitomized in poem 100.
But even if that were true, it’s interesting how we tend to look back on this era with a kind of bitter-sweet nostalgia, far removed from the pain and destruction caused at the time.
Edit: Revamped this page in January 2023 with a lot more information, updated Google Maps links and so on.
Edit 2: Revamped again in August 2023 with even more information.
One of the best ways to appreciate and celebrate the Hyakunin Isshu anthology (besides reading and reciting the poetry) is to play the traditional card game called karuta. I’ve written about it here, here and here before, but for a long time I never owned a set. My wife, who is Japanese, owns a set from when she was young, complete with a cassette tape for reciting the poems, but I wanted to own my own set while respecting her property.
It turns out that purchasing a karuta set can be reallyeasy or somewhat hard, depending on whether you are in Japan or overseas. In Japan, they are easy to find in any local bookstore because kids in Japan often grow up learning the anthology and playing games (even if they lose interest later).
The good news is that you can get a set for relatively cheap (shipping might be pricey though) and there are plenty of good choices. A basic set, minus shipping, is about ¥1800 or $15 USD at current rates, while fancier sets get much more expensive.
This guide is to help folks who are interested in owning a karuta set navigate their options. If you are living outside of Japan, feel free to jump down to the “Purchasing Online” section.
In Tokyo
A while back, I found a good article on the Japan Times about a famous karuta store in Tokyo that has been selling karuta cards for 90 years named Okuno Karuta (奥野カルタ). This is the premiere place to go if you are in Tokyo, particularly in the Chiyoda Ward. You can find it here (Google Maps link):
According to their website they are:
3-min walk from Tokyo Metro Jimbocho Station, A4 exit. This is usually done using the Hanzomon train line.
The Jinbocho Station is the nearest one, and speaking from limited experience the Hanzomon Line is pretty easy to find and covers much of Tokyo.
I did contact Okuno Karuta about ordering online, and while they do have an online store, it usually only ships from within Japan. Your best bet is to simply visit the store in person, or plan to purchase online and ship to some place in Japan you can then pickup.
In Kyoto
If you are closer to the western half of Japan, or traveling through the Kyoto Area, there’s many great karuta shops to visit since it is essentially the home of the Hyakunin Isshu anthology.
My personal favorite is Tengudo (大石天狗堂), founded in 1800. This is the company that made the first karuta set that I purchased, and are located in the Fushimi ward of Kyoto (Google Maps link):
According to their website, the easiest ways to get there by train are:
Similar to Okuno Karuta, you can also order online, but it ships only within Japan.
Local Bookstores in Japan
Further, if you are in Japan, but not near Tokyo or Kyoto (as was my case in December 2022), you can also just visit any local bookstore and find karuta sets there. The selection can be more limited than a dedicated store. The first shop I went to had only one set, but Kinokuniya had several to choose from.
This is a nice middle-ground between big online sites like Amazon or Rakuten, and the smaller but hard to access mom-and-pop stores.
However, again, the shipping options will almost always be limited to Japan only.
Purchasing Online
And finally we come to the last, but most likely option: purchasing online.
If you can’t afford to go to Japan, and just want to get a set of Hyakunin Isshu cards for yourself, there are options for purchasing online.
If you only plan to play, and not read the cards, Tengu-do provides a minimal, tournament-standard set of torifuda cards, available on Amazon JP and Amazon US.1 English is available on Amazon JP.
The torifuda set from Tengu-do. It is a basic, no-nonsense set but still very nice.
But if you’re looking for a full set, maybe with a CD other things, Seattle Karuta Club has other helpful recommendations.
In some countries, Kinokuniya Bookstore has international online stores as well (example link for the USA) which can also ship karuta sets. The USA store can ship to Canada, USA and Mexico for example.
Finally, another option is proxy-buying. This is a niche option that lets you buy Japanese goods from smaller shops like Okuno Karuta or Tengudo, while still being accessible overseas. Japan Rabbit (formerly White Rabbit Express) is one such choice, Rakuten Global Express is another. I haven’t personally use either one, however.
If you go the Rakuten route, they usually have some English translations available, but it’s probably simplest to search for 百人一首カルタ to get accurate results, and then go from there.
Good luck and happy card hunting!
1 These Amazon links are “associate” links, so any purchases made through them give me a small amount of credit in the future.
The Hyakunin Isshu 
