Withered by the dew
of the very field you know,
this lavender flower—
spare me some little pity,
if only for the form of it

Meaning

I am the lavender flower withered by the dew of that same field; spare me some pity, if only for the form of it.

Commentary

Part One: Fujibakama

　The Princess had died, and Tamakazura was in mourning for her as a granddaughter. Named Mistress of the Household, she hung back from taking up the post and turned the question over unhappily; and it was then that Yugiri came as Genji's messenger. Her face, above the soft gray of her mourning robes, was if anything the more brilliant for the unaccustomed color; and Yugiri, in a gray cloak of the same shade and with the streamers of his cap rolled up, was handsomer still. Though it was known now that they were not brother and sister, she did not change her manner, and they spoke as before with only a blind and a curtain between them and no one to carry their words. Having conveyed, obliquely, that His Majesty's feeling for her was no ordinary one, Yugiri—thinking perhaps that no better chance would come—slid a fine spray of the lavender flower under the blind, saying that this too had its claim on her notice, and would not let go of it. She reached for it unsuspecting, and he caught her sleeve and addressed this poem to her.

　"Fujibakama," the boneset, is an autumn plant with pale purple flowers; its color sounds "the purple bond," the kinship that makes the two of them cousins. At the same time it suggests the wisteria-gray of mourning: we are both, he says, withered by the dew of the same field, both grieving the same grandmother. "Kagoto" is a pretext, a form gone through. Even if you do not mean it, he asks, give me pity for the name of the thing. From that last phrase Tamakazura recalled the old poem about the belt of Hitachi—"if only for the form of it, I would meet with you"—and, reading his true meaning there, found him hateful and unnerving. The chapter takes its name from this poem.

Author

Murasaki Shikibu

Source

Genji Monogatari

Other

Withered by the dew of the very field you know, this lavender flower— spare me some little pity, if only for the form of it

Withered by the dew
of the very field you know,
this lavender flower—
spare me some little pity,
if only for the form of it