なく声もきこえぬ虫の思ひだに
人の消つにはきゆるものかは
人の消つにはきゆるものかは
- Roma-ji
-
Naku koe mo kikoenu mushi no omoi dani
hito no ketsu ni wa kiyuru mono ka wa - English Translation
-
Even the small fire
of a creature with no voice—
is that a thing that
another, reaching for it,
can put out at will, and quench?
- Meaning
- Even the fire of a creature that has no voice—can that be quenched at another's will? Still less this fire of mine.
- Commentary
-
Part One: Hotaru
In the season of the summer rains the Prince of War pressed his suit in earnest, asking to be allowed at least to come a little nearer. Genji urged Tamakazura to answer, and had Saisho write for her at his dictation. Surprised by so favorable a reply, the Prince came quietly one evening; and Genji had a cushion set at the corner doors, with only a curtain-stand between, so that he sat very close indeed, while incense burned unseen and Genji fussed over the arrangements—less like a parent than like a tiresome, meddling go-between. The Prince spoke his heart in words that were composed and never coarsely amorous, and Genji listened with amusement. Then, lifting one panel of the curtain, he released the mass of fireflies he had gathered that evening and kept hidden; and in the sudden light Tamakazura's profile, half covered by her fan, was lovely. The Prince, catching sight of her through the gauze, was captivated—and made this poem.
"A creature with no voice" is the firefly. In "omohi," the syllable "hi" is also fire, so that the insect's light and the fire of love are one. "Another reaching for it" is the women who at once hid the glow away. If the fire of a voiceless creature cannot be put out by human hands, he argues, how much less the fire of one who has never spoken. The light Genji had contrived turns, in the poem, into the figure of the Prince's own passion—which is the wit of the scene. From this night the Prince is known as the Prince of War of the Fireflies.
- Author
- Murasaki Shikibu
- Source
- Genji Monogatari
- Other
-
- Merely for being set beside that fragrant sleeve, must this body too— this fruit of the orange tree— come to nothing, and be gone?
- We did not lie down unguarded, root beside root— then why should the young grass wear the look of one who has something to be tangled about?
- The firefly, that makes no sound and only burns its body quietly— surely its fire runs deeper than the fire of those who speak
- Even on this day no hand comes down to draw me— the sweet flag that grows hidden beneath the water, whose root can only weep on