さ夜ふけていなおほせ鳥のなきけるを
君がたたくと思ひけるかな
君がたたくと思ひけるかな
- Roma-ji
-
Sayo fukete inaōsedori no nakikeru o kimi ga tataku to omoikeru kana
- English Translation
-
Deep in the night the
rice-bearing bird was calling
and I — I took it
for the sound of your hand at
my door, and went to answer
- Meaning
- Deep in the night the rice-bearing bird was calling, and I took it for the sound of your hand at my door.
- Commentary
-
66 The Rice-Bearing Bird
Toshiko, who later became the wife of Fujiwara no Chikane, composed this poem on a night when she was waiting for him and he did not come. The prose says no more, and the section consists of this single poem.
Toshiko was Chikane's wife; she is entrusted with the preparations for the retired emperor's celebration in the third section, composes a poem of condolence in the ninth, and dies in the thirteenth. In the forty-first she is one of four gathered at the Major Counsellor Minamoto's house. Fujiwara no Chikane held a post in the Right Horse Bureau.
The setting is her house late at night, waiting for a man who did not come.
What prompted the poem was that wait, and the cry of a bird she heard in the small hours.
The section ends with the poem; no response and no later event is recorded. The sixty-seventh section gives another story of the same two.
The first line means simply that the night had grown late.
The bird named in the second line is one whose identity has never been settled; its name is taken to mean a bird that carries rice, and it was counted among the birds of the secret tradition of poetry. Here it is simply a bird that calls at night.
The particle after its cry is concessive: it was only calling, and yet.
The closing exclaims that she took it for his hand at the door. The whole poem states one thing: that she misheard. Instead of pleading how hard she was waiting, she offers only the mistake.
- Source
- Yamato Monogatari
- Other
-
- Do you mean me to die, then? Driven off before I can gather my- self — I can hardly go, hard- ly live, feeling as I do
- So I am to melt away into the snowing sky, then — is that it I have come back, and the plank door does not open for me
- I had thought this house had no gap in it, so full was it of my thoughts of you — yet tonight's rain finds no part of it that holds dry
- When was it that you grew so familiar with my house — that, like the oak's own name, you should send for a branch with such an easy face