Hyakunin Isshu No. 14: Dyed and tangled/Trapped in secret love

By: Kawara no Sadaijin (822-895) 河原左大臣

Surrounded by this みちのくの
Intricate print, しのぶもぢずり
Becoming 誰故に
Dyed and tangled, 乱れそめにし
Trapped in secret love 我ならなくに

Kawara no Sadaijin was a title for Minamoto no Toru (源融), a statesman and poet who was the grandson of Emperor Saga and a part of the Saga Genji clan. Claimed by some to be the model for the protagonist of The Tale of Genji, the only other really notable claim for Minamoto is this tanka that he wrote, which is also included in the Kokin shu as No. 724.

Shinobu Mojizuri ferns | 宮代NOW

In my notes, it states that the poet saw an intricately print of ferns on cloth, which reminded him of the tangled and chaotic state of his own feelings towards the woman he loved. Furthermore, Michinoku (the first line of the tanka) was renowned in Ancient Japan for printed cloth, and Shinobu (the start of the second line of the tanka) was an area within Michinoku, which emphasises how intricate and fine the poet’s emotions would have been.

Fukushima Prefecture | Must Love Japan

A quick Google search revealed that Michinoku is in fact, the ancient name for Fukushima-shi, in Fukushima prefecture in the Tohoku region of Japan. Although it gained fame (or infamy?) internationally as the site of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake, during the Nara and Heian years, Michinoku was actually a frontier area, and famous for its shinobu mojizuri fabric (the second line of the tanka).

The translator also notes that the pronunciation for fern is the same as for remembrance or concealment, which therefore gives the poem the meaning of either concealment through the fabric or the ferns, or remembrance through seeing the cloth or ferns.

Another translation gives this meaning clearer:

Whose fault is it
that my feelings have begun to tangle
like the tangle-patterned prints
of Shinobu from the distant north?
Since it is not mine, it must be…
(Mostow 1996)

This alternative translation also shows how Minamoto addresses this poem, as though to entangle his love with him within the fabric. Accompanying notes to this translation additionally shows that this poem has been interpreted as a defense by Minamoto of his faithfulness to his lover, which, due to the interesting choice in imagery to symbolise how upset he is at being doubted, could also be argued as a way of showing a secret love to another.

I mean, ‘whose fault is it’ could be both Minamoto reinforcing that it was not his fault that he fell in love with and is in love with his lover and that his feelings for her are as tangled as the prints of Shinobu, or that his heart has, against his will, begun to stir for another, tangling the feelings that he held for his current lover with his emotions for his new interest. I personally like the argument that he is trying to sort through his emotions for another, because it gives the poem more layers, which suits the imagery that he chose with the fabrics and ‘tangle-patterned prints’.

Shinobu Mojizuri fabric | わかればいいのに I Wish I Knew

It is also amazing that so much meaning can be conveyed within thirty one syllables, and it makes me respect Japanese poetry so much more, because as much as I love poetry, sometimes the way Western poets write seems so excessive and clunky, but here? It is so clean, and so sparse, but still containing so much meaning.

And the more I read these poems, the more I realise how lacking my copy of the Hyakunin Isshu is. It is enough to get me started, but it doesn’t provide enough information for my liking, and its translation seems clumsy or lazy compared to alternative translations that I can find on the internet. But maybe I just expect too much from my books.

Hyakunin Isshu No. 13: Male and Female Peaks

By: Retired Emperor Youzei (869-949) 陽成院

From Tsukuba’s 筑波嶺の
Male and female peaks 峰より落つる
The Minano River falls みなの川
And gathers a pool 恋ぞつもりて
Of passion deep 淵となりぬる

Emperor Youzei was the 57th emperor of Japan, reigning from 876-884. He ascended to the throne early in his life when his father Emperor Seiwa (清和天皇) ceded the throne to his son at eight years of age. As he grew older, Youzei began to display violent tendencies, often executing prisoners himself, and when angered would chase after the offenders, sometimes with his sword drawn. Eventually, his chief assistant Fujiwara no Mototsune realised that Youzei was not fit for rule, and organised a way to take Youzei from his palace and confronted Youzei about his behaviour and announced his dethronement. He was succeeded by his father’s uncle, Emperor Koukou (光孝天皇), and had nine imperial sons after his abdication with seven consorts.

The twin peaks of Mt. Tsukuba | siawasedog

Mt. Tsukuba is located in Ibaraki Prefecture, and there is a private train line called the Tsukuba Express that goes from Akihabara in Tokyo to Tsukuba town. The notes in my book remark that, as the source of the Minano River is Mt. Tsukuba’s twin peaks, which reminded people of a man and a woman, this led to the naming of the Minano river, written as 男女 in kanji and meaning man-woman.

Although the poem is describing the scenery at Mt. Tsukuba and Minano River, I feel like the purpose of this tanka is similar to No. 6, which described secret rendezvous between lovers in the night, and No. 10, which talked about meetings at the gate of Osaka. Despite already leaving the palace, as a courtier, his interactions would still have been restricted, and the wording that Youzei uses leads me to think that he had addressed this to one of his consorts about the passion that he felt for her.

The sign marking the start of the Minano river | bunkatorekisi

Even though this was probably not intended by Youzei at all when he penned the tanka, I feel like the emotions that he describes in this poem reveals just how passionate the Japanese people can be. Despite seeming calm, collected, polite, and reserved to strangers and even to their own partners and family members a lot of the time, underneath the smooth façade, the Japanese are just as emotionally charged, if not more so, than their outspoken Western counterparts.

This is definitely something that I have realised during my year in Japan as I got to know many more Japanese people, becoming close friends with some of them. And I cannot wait to see more glimpses into these emotions in future tanka, because if they are considered suppressed now, the ancient Japanese would have been hiding their emotions even more strongly, only expressing their true feelings through their imagery and wordplay.

Hyakunin Isshu No. 12: I see a maiden’s form

By: Monk Henjou (816-890) 僧正遍照

Heavenly wind, 天つ風
The cloud’s commute, 雲のかよひ路
Stop your blowing, please – 吹きとぢよ
I see a maiden’s form 乙女のすがた
And want to stay awhile しばしとどめむ

Henjou was born Yoshimine no Munesada, the eighth son of Dainagon Yoshimine no Yasuyo, a son of the Emperor Kammu who was relegated to civilian life. Henjou actually started as a courtier, and even became the Japanese equivalent of a chamberlain to Emperor Nimmyo. However, after Emperor Nimmyo died, Henjou became a monk and priest of the Tendai school of Buddhism out of grief. After he became a monk, he founded Gangyō-ji in southern Kyoto, stayed active in politics, and was later also given Unrin-in in northern Kyoto to manage. He is rumoured to have had an affair with Ono no Komachi (poet of #9), and had a son who composed #21 of the HI.

Monk Henjou | One Thousand Summers

As a poet, he is listed as one of the six best waka poets in the Kokin Wakashu, and known as one of the thirty-six poetry immortals. I feel like all the poets that have been featured so far in the Hyakunin Isshu have been one of these poetry immortals, but I have also noticed that if they have been included in the HI, then they will probably either also be featured in the Wakashu, or be regarded as a poetry immortal, or both.

For this particular tanka, my translation states that apparently Henjou wrote this after seeing young ladies dance at a festival, which he therefore referenced as Buddhist mythological maidens living in the sky. An alternate translation changes the sentences’ structures around, so that it reads:

Let the winds of heaven
Blow through the paths among the clouds
And close their gates.
Then for a while I could detain
These messengers in maiden form.

Originally, I thought that Monk Henjou was asking the winds to help stop the clouds so that he could stay outdoors and observe the maiden that he had seen. However, this other translation shows that he wanted the winds to close up the sky with clouds so that these maiden messengers would stay with him for longer. This also makes the Buddhist mythological maiden remark from my translation make more sense, and to me, this tanka echoes a meaning that previous tanka had also displayed: the expression of the emotions of the present moment and the significance of the now (for example, #1, #3, #4, #5, #7, #8). Henjou is capturing a moment that he finds beautiful, and he knows this moment will not last, but he wishes for this moment to last longer.

Henjou may have possibly been watching the Gosechi dances when he got inspired for this tanka | epidote | photobucket

This knowledge of the fleeting moment reflects the beauty of what Japanese call wabi-sabi, or the beauty of the imperfect, of the transient. It is reflected in how sakura blossoms and the autumn colours are so loved due to their impermanence, in how nature is shaped within Japanese gardens to reflect the passing of time, and in how most Japanese traditional arts such as Noh and the tea ceremony calls for inhabiting a moment through ritual and stillness. Although Monk Henjou probably wanted to just capture a moment, the way in which he has done so shows more depth into his culture than he probably intended. Or maybe I’m reading too much into thirty-seven syllables.

Hyakunin Isshu No. 10: Osaka’s Rendezvous Gate

By: Semimaru 蝉丸

This is the place – これやこの
Of comings and goings 行くも帰るも
And partings of ways; 別れては
Of knowing and not knowing too: 知るも知らぬも
Osaka’s rendezvous gate 逢坂の関

Semimaru | Wikipedia

Semimaru is only known as a Japanese poet and musician from the early Heian period, with almost nothing concrete known of his life. At some point, he became a hermit in a cave at Osaka’s gate, which inspired him to write the tanka above and consequently caused him to be known as the Seki no Akagami (lit. light god of the gate). This particular tanka also appears in the Gosen Wakashu, and some of his other works appear in Shin Kokin Wakashu and Zoku Kokin Wakashu.

Also, a note before we get into the interpretation of the tanka: the Osaka (逢坂) that is stated here is not the quite the Osaka (大阪) that is in present day Japan. This Osaka is always mentioned in conjunction with the ‘gate’, and can be read as both ‘oosaka’ or ‘ausaka’ (alt. kanji: 相坂関, 合坂関, 会坂関). I presume that this is the name of a gate that existed in Heian Japan, on the borders of present day Kyoto and Shiga prefecture.

In comparison to the HI #9, the meaning for this tanka is very straightforward. It seems to be a direct observation of the activities around the gate throughout the day, and probably a sight that Semimaru saw every day. From looking up ‘Ausaka no Seki’ though,
I found that ‘to cross the Osaka Gate’ is also a way of expressing a secret meeting between lovers. If you take this meaning into account, then something that seemed to be an observation of daily life becomes an observation of the nature of romantic relationships.

Osaka no Seki | Asian Haiku Travelogue

People meet and people part, emotions surge and emotions ebb, some relationships continue, and some stall and go no where at all. In addition, the emotional layer that this second interpretation gives fits more into the themes that have been running through the last ten tanka that I’ve looked at. They all deal with something to do with deeper, more abstract topics than just simple observations, and so personally, I agree with this second interpretation more than the widely given, straightforward one.

Also, something that I noticed when I was thinking about this tanka was how much more I understood from reading the original Japanese text. It’s been months since I’ve read the last one, and I guess my Japanese has improved enough for me to read more into the actual text without needing the translations. Having said that, this particular tanka is very simple, so maybe that’s why I’m getting it so easy… Let’s see how it goes as I start reading these again.

Hyakunin Isshu No. 9: The vibrant flower’s face has faded

By: Ono no Komachi (825 – 900) 小野小町

The vibrant flower’s 花の色は
Face has faded – うつりにけりな
While I gaze in vain いたずらに
As the world grows old 我が身世にふる
And the long rain falls ながめせしまに

Ono no Komachi | deep kyoto

Ono no Komachi was a legendary beauty, famous for both her poetic prowess and her relationships and loves with different men. She is a member of the Rokkasen (of which Monk Hisen is also a member) and counted within the Thirty-Six Poetry Immortals. Despite her renown, almost nothing certain is known about her apart from her poetry and within her poetry, the names of the men she was romantically linked with because they are immortalised within the poetry exchanges present in the Kokin Wakashu (or more commonly referred to as Kokinshu). There are five categories of legends surrounding Komachi, including:

Tales of beauty
Tales of sensuality
Tales of haughtiness
Tales of poetry/poetic virtue
Tales of downfall/aging

Within her works, almost all her waka are melancholic, layered with verbal complexity and imagery, and almost always are about anxiety, solitude or passionate love. For this particular tanka, according to my translation, all three of these emotions are represented.

Fallen sakura petals | Frantisek Staud

In the first line, the colour of the flower (usually assumed to be sakura) could be representing love or have romantic overtones. In the third line, ‘vain’ can be translated also as ‘on the surface’, which could mean that the author has wasted her life, or if it is treated as a modifier for the next two lines, means that she (as the world) has grown old on the surface and lost her appeal, but inside she is still full of passion. The fifth line means either ‘gazing’ or an abbreviation of ‘long rain’, and if we choose to read it as ‘long rain’, the world ‘old’ in the previous line would change to become ‘falling’, and the last two lines would now mean ‘falling long rain’. The many double meanings in this tanka therefore creates so many different readings. We can take it at face value, which would mean a lady staring at a fading flower in the rain as autumn and winter ages the world, or a lady staring at herself and lamenting the gradual loss of her beauty as she ages, or a lady, still staring at herself, but recognising that whilst she is fading away outwardly, her passion is still burning strongly inside.

I personally rather like taking the meaning as the third one, because that is the reading that encompasses the three dominant emotions within Komachi’s works. The anxiety of growing old and becoming lonely, the solitude as she contemplates her feelings and the raining world around her, and the passionate love that she knows she is still capable of, this is what I imagine someone of her status and renown would feel as they become older and their looks fade. This is also the way I hope I age in the distant future, because you cannot help aging, but if you can own it and look past it and recognise that you are still capable of doing great things regardless of age, then you will always be free of the fetters of old age.

Komachi Rice | Singarea

Besides, Komachi has been immortalised everywhere in Japan, including Noh plays, a brand of rice, a train line, and a regular play. If I follow her example, maybe I too could at least have a shot at being remembered through rice.

Hyakunin Isshu No. 8: My Hermit Hut

By: Monk Kisen (early Heian) 喜撰

My hermit hut わが庵は
Above the capital, 都のたつみ
I live with just a deer – しかぞすむ
The world a mountain house 世をうぢ山と
And the people, abandoned 人はいふなり

Apart from being a monk, being an accomplished poet, and living near Ujiyama near Kyoto, nothing much is known about Kisen. He was chosen by Ki no Tsurayuki as one of the six poetic sages, whose work was acknowledged to be superior over other poets. However, only two known works can be confidently traced back to him, of which this tanka is one.

In the tanka, shika can be read as either deer or ‘but’ or ‘thus’. And both translations work, given where shika is placed in the tanka. Because there is no kanji given for it, technically ‘deer’ works too, but really, it makes more legitimate, serious sense if its meaning is ‘but’/’thus’. Apparently, according to the notes, ‘but’/’thus’ is actually the main reading anyway, but he liked the sound of ‘deer’, and so put ‘deer’ instead. If that is true, then the tanka now reads:

My hermit hut
Above the capital,
Thus I live –
The world a mountain house
And the people, abandoned

Personally, I like the reading with ‘Thus’ more (choosing ‘thus’ because it sounds more grammatically correct than ‘but’), because it then shows that Monk Kisen is commentating on the simplicity of his life, with only his hut and his own self to replace the world and its people. And the quiet he captures in those five lines makes me feel peaceful, just by reading it. It makes my once-serious thought of becoming a hermit sound wonderfully attractive again.

Hyakunin Isshu No. 7: The Sky’s Meadow Above

By: Abe no Nakamaro (701 – 770) 阿倍仲麻呂

I gaze into the distance 天の原
And the meadow of the sky above ふりさけ見れば
Becomes the Kasuga Shrine 春日なる
On Mount Mikasa 三笠の山に
In the coming moon 出でし月かも

Abe no Nakamaro | Katsushika Hokusai | Galerie Zacke

Abe was descended from a previous emperor, and growing up was applauded for his academics and intelligence. Since he was active during the Nara period, as a smart young man he became part of the mission to China during the Tang dynasty. Somehow or other, he was the only person to stay, and became an official Chinese. He first tried to return to Japan when he received a Japanese employ, but his ship sank not long after leaving China. When he attempted to return to Japan again after several years, his ship was wrecked again. After that, he gave up trying to return to his homeland, instead becoming a high class Chinese official and living the rest of his days in Hanoi (then part of Chinese territory).

Abe never really lost his academic prowess, and was a prolific writer and close friend of prominent Chinese poets. However, although he lived quite successfully in his adopted land, Abe never really forgot his homeland, and this tanka is supposedly written at his farewell party before his second departure. In my notes, this tanka is apparently a reflection of his reminiscing about how he prayed at Kasuga Shrine (a symbol for departure in Japanese classical literature) for a safe trip to China, and seeing the same moon that now hung in the sky before him.

Abe no Nakamaro | Katsushika Hokusai | Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco

The intense longing for Nara, his homeland, the anticipation that he must have felt at finally being able to set homeward bound, the stillness and quietness of the night as it enveloped him in memories. Nothing is quite like home, and the fact that he never really made it back to his beloved Nara is kind of (read: very) heartbreaking. He wanted to stay for a while, and ended up staying forever. For everyone who has been on long long holidays, or lived overseas, or been away from home for extended periods of time, I’m sure there have been times where you just wanted to go home.

And Abe never really got to go home. Sure, he became a Somebody in China, with the career and the friends, but this tanka just shows how much he missed Nara. It’s not evident in the translation that my book provides, but an alternative translation reads this:

When I look up into the vast sky tonight,
is it the same moon that I saw
Rising from behind Mt. Mikasa
At Kasuga Shrine
All those years ago?

And I can’t help but think about my own imminent departure for Japan, and the moment that I realise that I’m not quite home, that home is far far away, and I wonder how this tanka will feel then, when I gaze up at the sky at the moon that is shining on the distance that separates my home from me.