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- Heike Monogatari
More than on the sleeve that parts the grasses of the eastern road, the dew falls and falls upon the sleeves of one who does not set out
More than on the sleeve that parts the grasses of the eastern road, the dew falls on the sleeves of one who does not set out at all.
Why should I lament this parting of our two ways? The pass I go through is a place my forebears crossed, a trace left from long ago
Why should I lament this parting of ways? The barrier I am to cross is one my forebears crossed, a trace left from long ago.
The keeper of the ridgepole of that flat little house must be in a great uproar now that the brace he counted on has fallen
The keeper of the ridgepole of that flat little house must be in an uproar, now that the brace he counted on has fallen away.
Faster than water leaping the rocks in the shoals of the Fuji stream, down they came falling—these men, these Taira out of Ise
Faster than the water leaping the rocks in the shallows of the Fuji, down they came falling—these Taira out of Ise.
Your armor is gone, left behind at the Fuji— then, Tadakiyo, just put on the ink-dyed robe and wear it for the next world
Your armor is gone, left at the Fuji—then simply put on the ink-dyed robe, Tadakiyo, and wear it for the sake of the next world.
Tadakiyo rode off on a horse of flight-brown— no use, Kazusa, in strapping on the crupper when all the beast does is run
Tadakiyo rode off on a horse of flight-brown. No use, Kazusa, in strapping on the crupper when all the beast does is run.
His progress, which I so often watched—today, when I ask where it goes, they tell me it is a road from which he will not return
That progress of his, which I watched so often—today, when I ask where it is bound, they tell me it is a road from which he will not return.
Though I hid it, still my love has come out into my face, so that now people ask me whether I am brooding over something
Though I kept it hidden, my love has shown in my face—so plainly that people ask whether something is troubling me.
I cannot bear it; my heart is off in the sky— far Michinoku, the salt kilns of Chika: near, and nearness does me no good
I cannot bear it, and my heart is off in the sky—like the salt kilns of Chika in far Michinoku, she is near, and her nearness does me no good at all.
Will you not so much as take my letter into your hand any more? Even if in your heart you have cast the thought of me off
Will you not even take my letter into your hand any more—even if in your heart you have cast me off entirely?
They say he cries at night—then simply guard him well, Tadamori, for in the age to come he may yet flourish, and flourish clean
They say he cries at night—then simply guard him well, Tadamori; in the age to come he may yet flourish, and flourish cleanly.
Was it that my prayer to the god was heard? So clear a sign has appeared, showing itself here before my eyes in living color
Was it that my prayer to the god was heard? So clear a sign has shown itself here before my eyes, in visible color.
The house where flowers bloomed in peace—but years go by, and now it appears only as a moon that leans westward, going down to set
The house where flowers bloomed in peace—now that the years have passed, it looks only like a moon leaning westward to set.
What am I to do? The trailing leaves of the vine are withering—well, I shall leave it to the sun of spring, and trouble no more
What is to be done? The trailing leaves of the wisteria are withering. I shall leave it to the spring sun, and trouble myself no further.
The capital at Shiga has gone to ruin, and yet the mountain cherries are blooming here still, just as they bloomed long ago
The capital at Shiga has long gone to ruin, and yet the mountain cherries bloom here still, just as they bloomed long ago.
We part before I have had my fill of you—so what remains of you I shall wrap and keep it here, a token for days to come
We part before I have had my fill of you; so what remains of you I shall wrap up and keep here, a token for the days to come.