Here at this weed-grown
house where the dew lies heavy,
the voices of the
insects have not changed at all
from the autumns of long ago

Meaning

Here at this weed-grown house where the dew lies heavy, the insect voices have not changed at all from the autumns of long ago.

Commentary

Part Two: Yokobue

　Late in the night, as Yugiri was preparing to go, the Ichijo lady sent word out to him. What had sounded through the neglected house that evening, she said, was not in the least different from the autumns when Kashiwagi was alive. Having said so, she gave Yugiri the flute her son-in-law had loved, as a keepsake. This poem came with it. He answered, took the flute, and left. The passing of that flute from hand to hand is the subject of this chapter.

　"The dew lies heavy" is dew in quantity, and it carries the amount of weeping too. "Weed-grown house" is a dwelling overrun since it lost its master, and it describes the Ichijo residence. "The autumns of long ago" are the autumns when Kashiwagi was there. "Insect voices" are the insects in the garden and also the music of that evening, so that what has not changed and what is gone for good stand together in one poem. For a scene in which a keepsake is handed over, the restraint is exactly right.

Author

Murasaki Shikibu

Source

Genji Monogatari

Other

Here at this weed-grown house where the dew lies heavy, the voices of the insects have not changed at all from the autumns of long ago

Here at this weed-grown
house where the dew lies heavy,
the voices of the
insects have not changed at all
from the autumns of long ago