Her tresses ninety-nine—
One year short of a hundred,
All in tangled white—
She must still long after me,
For I see her in a dream.
- Meaning
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An old woman with tangled white hair—ninety-nine years, one year short of a hundred—seems to be longing for me; I see her as an apparition.
- Commentary
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63. Tsukumo Hair
There was a woman who longed for a certain man. She wished that she might somehow meet this man, who was said to be deep in affection, yet she had no opportunity to speak of such a thing. So she called her three sons and spoke to them about a dream she had seen. The first two answered indifferently, but the third son interpreted the dream, saying, "Surely a good man will appear for you." Their mother was greatly pleased.
The third son thought that other men lacked deep feeling. Because the man known as the Zaigo Middle Captain was reputed to be affectionate, he wished to arrange for his mother to meet him. Encountering the Zaigo Middle Captain while he was out hunting, the son conveyed his feelings. The captain was moved and came to the woman’s house, where they lay together.
After that, however, the man did not come again, and the woman went to his house and secretly looked in.
The poem was composed by the man when he saw the woman peering in.
"Tsukumo hair" means ninety-nine years of age—one year short of a hundred. From that number it came to signify extremely old hair, short and tangled. Because it is one less than one hundred, if the first stroke of the character for one hundred is removed, the character becomes "white," making it also a wordplay referring to white hair.
The "Zaigo Middle Captain" refers to Ariwara no Narihira. He was the fifth son of Prince Abo and held the post of Acting Middle Captain of the Right Division of the Inner Palace Guards, from which this name derives.
- Source
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Ise Monogatari
- Other
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Where now can it be,
The fragrance of long ago—
O cherry blossoms?
Though once in full bloom, today
They have fallen into moss.
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Is it truly this—
The one who fled from meeting me
As wife long ago,
Though years have passed since that time,
Showing no sign of better?
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Upon the straw mat spread,
Laying down one sleeve of mine—
Shall it be tonight
That, without meeting the one
I long for, I sleep alone?
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Were I but the wind
Blowing where it will, myself,
Then through jeweled blinds
Seeking out a narrow gap,
I might enter where you dwell.