though the year I do not wait
has now come round at last again
like winter withered grass—
the one who has gone away
sends not even a word of news

Meaning

Though the year I do not await has come again, the one who has gone away, like winter-withered grass, sends not even a word.

Commentary

Book Six Winter Poems

This poem was composed at the end of the twelfth month, while waiting for someone who had gone away to return.

“Winter grass” serves as a pillow word for “withered,” which also carries the meaning of “to part.” The poem expresses the gloomy feelings of an aging person, for whom the coming of a new year means only further aging. It invites deeper reflection on who the awaited person is, where they have gone, and why not even a message has come.

Author

Oshikochi no Mitsune

Source

Kokin Wakashu

Other

if the scent of plum mingled with the fallen snow resting on the ground— who then could clearly discern and pluck each one apart
when the snow falls down on every tree flowers seem to bloom— upon each single one which of them is truly plum how could I discern and pluck
as the passing year draws each time to its close again the snow falls ever more— and so too does my own self grow older with each passing year
when snow falls at last and the year comes to its close— only then we see the pine that never changes hue that never turns like autumn leaves

though the year I do not wait has now come round at last again like winter withered grass— the one who has gone away sends not even a word of news

though the year I do not wait
has now come round at last again
like winter withered grass—
the one who has gone away
sends not even a word of news