九重をかすみ隔つるすみかにも
春とつげくるうぐひすの声
春とつげくるうぐひすの声
- Roma-ji
-
Kokonoe o kasumi hedatsuru sumika ni mo
haru to tsugekuru uguisu no koe - English Translation
-
Even to this house,
set off from the ninefold court
by a veil of haze,
they have come to tell of spring—
the voices of the warblers
- Meaning
- Even to this dwelling, cut off from the ninefold court by a veil of haze, the warblers have come to tell me that spring is here.
- Commentary
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Part One: Otome
This is the Retired Emperor's answer to Genji, in which he speaks of his life since his abdication as a life set far apart from the palace. Afterward the Prince who had been Viceroy, and was now Minister of War, offered the cup to the reigning Emperor with a poem of his own, and His Majesty answered in turn. Later, since the musicians' stand was too far off for the sound to carry, instruments were brought to the imperial presence: the Prince of War took the lute, the Minister of the Center the Japanese koto, the Retired Emperor the thirteen-stringed koto, and Genji the seven-stringed koto, and their playing together was beyond describing.
"Kokonoe," the ninefold, is the palace. "A dwelling set off by haze" is the retired sovereign's residence, far from the court. "The warblers come to tell of spring" means the visit of the Emperor and Genji. On its face the poem is a graceful greeting to the season, yet a shadow of loneliness falls across it: he is the one who has withdrawn beyond the haze. Where Genji's poem looked back with longing to the old reign, this one carries a note of complaint about the present—and it is because these two stand side by side that the tact of the Prince of War's poem, which follows, does its work.
- Author
- Murasaki Shikibu
- Source
- Genji Monogatari
- Other
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- Even in sunlight, was it clear at all to you— this heart of mine, which hung upon the heavenly feathered sleeves of the maiden?
- The warbler's singing— that song is as it was then, but the blossoms' shade where once we made merry is wholly changed from before
- In the flute that breathes and carries the old days on, and in the singing of the birds as well—nothing, nothing at all has changed
- If the warbler sings out of longing for the past, can it be because the blossoms it moves among have faded from what they were?