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- Manyoshu
Tsukikusa ni koromo wa suramu asatsuyu ni nurete no nochi wa utsuroinu tomo
I will rub my robe with dayflower dye—even if, once soaked with morning dew, its color should fade away.
Aga kokoro yuta ni tayuta ni ukinunawa he ni mo oki ni mo yorikatsumashiji
My heart sways back and forth like water shield floating on the pond—it seems it can drift neither to the shore nor out to the open water.
Isonokami furu no wasada o hidezu tomo nawa dani haeyo moritsutsu oramu
The early rice fields of Furu in Isonokami—though the ears have not yet come out, at least stretch a rope around them, and I will keep watch in the meantime.
Shirasuge no mano no harihara kokoro yu mo omowanu ware shi koromo ni suritsu
The alder grove of Mano where white sedge grows—I, who never once dreamed of it, have rubbed its dye into my robe.
Makibashira tsukuru somabito isasame ni kariio no tame to tsukurikeme ya mo
Would the woodcutters who shape pillars of fine timber ever make them lightly, meaning them only for some makeshift hut? Surely not.
Mukatsuo ni tateru momo no ki naramu ya to hito zo sasayaku na ga kokoro yume
"Will the peach tree standing on the facing peak bear fruit?" people are whispering. Guard your heart, and never let it waver.
Tarachine no haha ga sono naru kuwa sura ni negaeba kinu ni kiru to iu mono o
Even the mulberry growing in my mother's garden, they say, can be worn as clothing if one only wishes for it—and yet.
Hashikiyashi wagie no kemomo moto shigeku hana nomi sakite narazu arame ya mo
Dear down-peach of my own home, thick with growth down to the roots—could you only blossom and never bear fruit? Surely not.
Mukatsuo no wakakatsura no ki shizue tori hana matsu ima ni nagekitsuru kamo
Taking hold of a lower bough of the young katsura tree on the facing peak, I have sighed while waiting for it to bloom.
Iki no o ni omoeru ware o yamajisa no hana ni ka kimi ga utsuroinuramu
I have loved you with my very life—yet have you, like the flowers of the mountain chisa, faded and changed your heart?
Suminoe no asazawa ono no kakitsubata kinu ni suritsuke kimu hi shirazu mo
The irises of the Asazawa meadows in Suminoe—when will the day come that I rub their color into my robe and wear it? I cannot tell.
Aki saraba utsushi mo semu to waga makishi karaai no hana o tare ka tsumikemu
I sowed the karaai, meaning to dye with it when autumn came—who could it be that has plucked its flowers?
Kasugano ni sakitaru hagi wa kataeda wa imada fufumeri koto na tae so ne
Of the bush clover blooming on Kasuga's moor, one bough is still in bud—so please, do not let your words cease.
Mimaku hori koitsutsu machishi akihagi wa hana nomi sakite narazu kamo aramu
The autumn bush clover I waited for, yearning and longing to see it—will it only blossom and never bear fruit?
Wagimoko ga yado no akihagi hana yori wa mi ni narite koso koi masarikere
The autumn bush clover at my darling's home—more than when it was in flower, now that it has borne fruit, my longing grows all the stronger.
Asukagawa nanase no yodo ni sumu tori mo kokoro are koso nami tatezarame
Even the birds that dwell in the still pools of the Asuka River's many shallows raise no ripples—surely because they have hearts.