吹きみだる風のけしきに女郎花
しをれしぬべき心地こそすれ
しをれしぬべき心地こそすれ
- Roma-ji
-
Fukimidaru kaze no keshiki ni ominaeshi
shiore shinubeki kokochi koso sure - English Translation
-
In this wild disorder
of wind, the maiden flower
feels itself about
to wither quite away and
be finished, and be gone
- Meaning
- In all this wild disorder of wind, the maiden flower feels itself about to wither quite away and be gone.
- Commentary
-
Part One: Nowaki
Genji went on to Tamakazura in the west wing. Having lain awake in fear of the wind, she had overslept and was just then at her mirror. Forbidding any loud clearing of the way, he came in quietly and, on the pretext of asking after the storm, fell as usual into amorous teasing. When she said crossly that if she must be so wretched she would rather the wind had carried her off, he laughed and answered that to go off with the wind would be frivolous of her. All this Yugiri was watching, having lifted the blind at the corner of the room. Parent and child, he thought, yet surely they sit closer than they should; and when he saw Genji draw her out from behind the pillar he felt, with distaste, that this was only what a man of his father's temper would do. After they had talked a long while with no one by, Genji suddenly turned grave and rose—and it was then that she made this poem.
"The wind in wild disorder" is Genji pressing his suit. The maiden flower is herself, chosen among autumn plants as the frailest and most yielding. "About to wither quite away" is to droop past recovery, and "shinu" may be heard as "to die" as well as a mere auxiliary. She lays the storm-beaten garden directly over her own plight—refusing him, but never in plain words, only through a flower. Yugiri could not make it out; but hearing Genji murmur the poem over, half vexed and half curious, he wished to watch to the end and yet withdrew.
- Author
- Murasaki Shikibu
- Source
- Genji Monogatari
- Other
-
- Then put it out there, in that sky where nothing holds— if what you speak of is only the smoke that rises along with the cressets' flame
- Even the sound of an ordinary wind that passes through the reeds seems to sink into this one wretched body of mine, and stay
- Had it only bent to the dew beneath the tree, the maiden flower would not have been left to wither in the roughness of the wind
- Even on an evening when the wind is up and clouds run and mass and blur, there is not a moment when I forget, or can forget, you