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- Heike Monogatari
If the dark comes on before I reach a lodging and I take instead the shade beneath a tree, then the blossoms host me tonight
If the dark comes on before I reach a lodging, and I take the shade beneath a tree instead, then the blossoms are my host tonight.
My love is a log laid across a narrow stream for a bridge: it turns underfoot and sends me down, and my sleeves come up wet through
My love is a single log laid across a narrow stream for a bridge: it turns underfoot and sends me down, and my sleeves come up soaked.
Only trust in it: that log laid across the stream for a narrow bridge— tread on it again and will it not come down after all
Only trust in it: that single log across the stream—tread on it again and again, and will it not come down after all?
I do not know where we shall meet—but these traces I write and leave here on the seaweed of this shore, look on them as a keepsake
I do not know where we shall meet again; but look on these traces I write and leave behind as a keepsake.
Though I am a man whose ill name goes streaming down the river of tears, I would ask for one more time, one shallows where we might meet
Though I am one whose ill name goes streaming down the river of tears, I would ask for one more meeting, only one.
Even if for you my own name goes streaming down in disgrace, let me become the refuse that lies at the bottom, there with you
Even if for your sake my own name streams away in disgrace, let me become the refuse at the bottom, and be there with you.
Our meeting, and this life of mine light as the dew— tonight, is it that both of them together come to their ending here at once
Our meeting, and this life of mine as light as dew—is it that tonight both come to their end at once?
You say it is the last time, and we stand apart— and this dew-light self of mine will surely vanish sooner than yours vanishes
You call it the last time, and we part; and this dew-light self of mine will surely vanish before yours does.
Under a strange sky, in the closeness of this hut of packed earth and thatch, how you must be longing for the home you have left behind
Under a strange sky, in the closeness of this poor earthen hut, how you must be longing for the home you have left.
No, I do not long for home. Under a strange sky or in the city, neither of them is a place where a man may stay for good
No, I do not long for home. Neither this strange sky nor the capital is a place where a man may stay for good.
What am I to do? The capital's spring is dear, and yet in the east, the land I know, the flowers may be falling even now
What am I to do? The spring of the capital is dear to me, and yet in the east, the country I know, the blossoms may already be falling.
This life of mine is nothing I would grieve to lose, and yet it has held long enough to let me see the white peaks of Kai, unmoved
This life of mine is nothing I would grieve to lose; and yet it has lasted long enough to let me see the white peaks of Kai, indifferent as they are.
Until you had shaved your head I bore you a grudge— but now that you have entered the true way at last, I find that I am gladdened
Until you shaved your head I bore a grudge; but now that you have entered the true way, I find I am glad.
What is there to hold against you for shaving off your hair? Neither yours nor my own is now a heart that could be drawn back again
What is there to hold against you for shaving your head? Neither heart is one that could be drawn back now.
Since my lord dwells here, this too is a moon that hangs above a palace— and still what I long for is the capital, after all
Since my lord dwells here, this too is a moon above a palace—and still what I long for is the capital after all.
As I gazed at it the moon came down and took up lodging in my sleeve, wet through with tears—moon, tell me the old tales of the palace
As I gazed, the moon came down and lodged in my sleeve, wet through with tears. Moon, tell me the old tales of the palace.