夜半にいでて月だに見ずは逢ふことを
知らず顔にも言はましものを
知らず顔にも言はましものを
- Roma-ji
-
Yowa ni idete tsuki dani mizu wa au koto o shirazugao ni mo iwamashi mono o
- English Translation
-
Going out at night —
if only I had not seen
the moon, then I could
have spoken of our meeting
with the face of one who knows nothing
- Meaning
- Going out at night — if only I had not seen the moon, I could have talked about it with the face of one who knows nothing.
- Commentary
-
141 The Road We Came By Together
A brother of the Consultant Yoshiie held a third-rank post in the province of Yamato. He brought a woman from Tsukushi and installed her in the house where his wife lived. The first wife was a kindly person and the new one bore her no ill will, and the two talked together on good terms. The man was often away on business in other provinces, so that the two women lived alone. The Tsukushi wife met another man in secret, and when someone taxed her with it she composed "Yowa ni idete tsuki dani mizu wa au koto o shirazugao ni mo iwamashi mono o". The first wife, being kind, said nothing to her husband; but he heard from elsewhere that she had taken up with a man, and though he turned it over in his mind he did not trouble himself much and let it be. When next they met he asked which of the two she cared for, himself or the other, and she answered with "Hanasusuki kimi ga kata ni zo nabiku meru omowanu yama no kaze wa fukedomo". Another man courted her too. She had been saying that love was nothing but grief and that she would have no more of men; but she was drawn to him by degrees, answered his letters, and at length sent a folded note to the first wife, which read: "Mi o ushi to omou kokoro no korineba ya hito o aware to omoisomuramu". That she could speak so openly, with no reserve at all, the first wife found endearing. But the Tsukushi wife, finding that the husband's feeling had changed and that he no longer loved her as before, said she would go home to her parents and brothers in Tsukushi; and he, being changed towards her, did not keep her. The first wife, used to her company, grieved at her going. They went together as far as Yamazaki to put her on the boat, and the husband came too. The second wife and the first talked together a day and a night, and in the morning she boarded. Husband and first wife got into the carriage to go home. Both parties felt it keenly; and from the boat came a letter: "Futari koshi michi to mo mienu nami no ue o omoikakede mo kaesu meru kana". Husband and wife both wept. The boat had put out, and no answer could be written. The carriage did not start but stood watching the boat go, and the woman aboard leaned out to look at the carriage, and as the boat was rowed away and the distance grew she went on gazing until the face was truly small — and the sorrow of it was very great. That is the whole of the section.
Yoshiie was a Consultant, and it is his brother who is the man here; he held the third rank in the provincial administration of Yamato. Of the first wife and the Tsukushi woman the prose tells us nothing further. Yamazaki, in Yamashiro province, was a chief point on the Yodo river route.
The setting is the period of the Tsukushi woman's secret meetings.
What prompted the poem was someone's taxing her with them.
The first wife said nothing to the husband, but he heard of it from elsewhere. From here the section goes on to the poem in which she answers his question.
The first line names the act itself: going out at night.
What follows is a condition contrary to fact — if only she had not so much as seen the moon — with a particle meaning at the very least.
To have seen the moon is proof of having been outside; without that, she might have talked her way out of it.
The closing breaks off on a particle of regret: she could have carried it off. Taxed with the affair, she does not deny it; she regrets having seen the moon. The fact itself she concedes.
- Source
- Yamato Monogatari
- Other
-
- In the very while that I am waiting for your robe to be cut out the dust on the bedding I have spread will go on gathering
- More wretched even than the deer of Kurikoma where the hunt goes out is this body of mine, that lies down to sleep by itself
- The pampas plumes bend towards you, it would seem, and nowhere else — although the wind blows on them out of a hill I never thought of
- Is it that this heart of mine, which finds itself hard to bear, will not learn — that I am beginning, once again, to hold someone dear