ふたかたに言ひもてゆけば玉櫛笥
わが身はなれぬ懸子なりけり
わが身はなれぬ懸子なりけり
- Roma-ji
-
Futakata ni iimote yukeba tamakushige
waga mi hanarenu kakego narikeri - English Translation
-
Count it either way
and still, like the jeweled comb-box,
you prove to be the
inner box that never comes
away from this body of mine
- Meaning
- Count it from either side and still, like the inner tray of a jeweled comb-box, you are the child that never comes away from me.
- Commentary
-
Part One: Miyuki
Genji called on the Princess at the Third Ward and, after long talk, told her who Tamakazura was; and when the Minister of the Center was summoned and came, he revealed the truth to him too, going back as far as the talk on that rainy night. The two men wept and laughed and were at ease with each other, and the Minister gladly agreed to tie the train. The date was fixed for the sixteenth of the Second Month, the first day of the equinox. On the day itself a quiet messenger came from the Third Ward with a comb-box and other things, hastily got up but beautifully done. The letter said that though her nun's habit was ill-omened and she was keeping out of sight, she hoped her long life at least might be allowed to count for something; and with it came this poem, written in an old-fashioned hand that shook badly.
"Futakata" is from either side, playing on the lid of the comb-box. Tamakazura is the Minister's daughter and therefore the Princess's grandchild; and as Genji's adopted daughter she is her grandchild too, since Genji is her son-in-law. Count it either way, the poem says, and she is a grandchild. "Tamakushige," the jeweled comb-box, is the gift itself. "Waga mi" plays her own person against the body of the box beneath its lid, and "kakego," the tray fitted inside, sounds "ko," a child. Genji laughed that scarcely a word in the thirty-one was unrelated to the rest—so thoroughly is it woven of associated terms. The manner is antique; but in the flat assertion that the girl is her grandchild, an old woman's feeling comes through.
- Author
- Murasaki Shikibu
- Source
- Genji Monogatari
- Other
-
- That day of progress, when the mist came down and the morning sky was dim— could I have seen at all clearly the light there was in the sky?
- The light was shining unclouded in the sky then— why should you have let your eyes be dimmed and blurred by the snow of that day's progress?
- It is my own self I find I must resent—this Chinese robe of mine that never grows worn and soft against a sleeve of yours
- A Chinese robe, and again a Chinese robe, a Chinese robe—over and over, turn it as you will, a Chinese robe again