晴るる夜の星か河辺の蛍かも
わが住むかたの海人のたく火か
わが住むかたの海人のたく火か
- Roma-ji
-
Haruru yo no hoshi ka kawabe no hotaru kamo
waga sumu kata no ama no taku hi ka - English Translation
-
Stars on a clear night?
Or fireflies by the river?
Or perhaps instead
The fishing fires that are lit
By the fishers where I dwell?
- Meaning
- Are those many lights the stars of a clear night, or fireflies along the riverbank? Or are they the fishing fires lit by the fishermen in the place where I live?
- Commentary
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87. Even a Boxwood Comb
There was once a man who lived in the village of Ashiya in the province of Settsu (present-day Hyōgo Prefecture), because he had lands there through family connections. The man held no great rank and only loosely served at court, so deputy officers of the Imperial Guards often gathered there. The man's elder brother was also the head of the Guards, and they would wander about the seashore before the man's residence.
One day the elder brother suggested that they go to see the Nunobiki Waterfall high in the mountains, and so they climbed the mountain. The waterfall was unlike ordinary ones: the water slid down a stone surface about twenty jō (roughly sixty meters) in length and five jō (about fifteen meters) in width. Where the water struck protruding rocks along the way, it broke apart and scattered into droplets about the size of mandarins or chestnuts. Those who were present were asked to compose poems on the waterfall.
The road back from the waterfall was long, and by the time they reached the house of Mochiyoshi, the former Director of the Ministry of the Imperial Household who had already passed away, evening had fallen. When they looked toward the house of the man where they would stay, they saw many fishing lights of the fishermen.
The man composed this poem when he saw those lights.
The poem expresses the lights swaying upon the waves of the dark sea by comparing them to fireflies or to the light of stars.
- Source
- Ise Monogatari
- Other
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- Waiting for the day When my world will be my own— Today or tomorrow— Which rises higher, I wonder: This fall or my tears that pour?
- Someone there must be Who has loosed the string of gems— White jewels scattered, Though the sleeve that would receive Them is far too narrow still.
- From the open sea, The sacred weeds they say serve As the sea god’s crown— Yet even these treasured fronds For your sake I did not spare.
- For the most part, I Will not praise the shining moon— For it is this moon Which, when its nights gather on, Becomes the years and our age.