咲くと待ち散りぬと嘆く春はただ
わが宿がほに花を見るかな
わが宿がほに花を見るかな
- Roma-ji
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Sakutomachi chirinutonageku haruwatada wagayadogaoni hanaomirukana
- English Translation
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Waiting for the bloom,
grieving when the petals fall,
all the spring I look
upon these flowers as though
the garden here were my own
- Meaning
- All through the spring, waiting for them to open and grieving when they fall, I look at these blossoms as though the garden were my own.
- Commentary
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Section 11: The Garden of Our House, the Dream of the Rokkakudō Watercourse
In the days after she obtained the Tale of Genji and gave herself over to reading it, the author began setting down the seasons of her own garden in verse. In the early part of the fifth month, watching the orange blossom near the eaves fall in a drift of white, she composed a poem. Their house, like the foot of Mount Ashigara she had crossed on the way to the capital where the trees grew dark and thick, was a place overgrown with timber, so that the maples of the tenth month were finer there than on any of the surrounding hills, as though brocade had been drawn across the grounds. When a visitor from outside remarked that he had just passed a place on the road where the maples were very beautiful, she answered on the instant with another poem.
Thinking of tales all day long and holding them in mind through every waking hour of the night, she dreamed that someone came and told her that a watercourse was being made at the Rokkakudō for the Ippon no Miya, daughter of the Kōtaigōgū. When she asked what that might mean, the answer was that she should put her faith in Amaterasu Ōmikami. She told no one of the dream and let it pass without a thought, which was a poor thing indeed. And each spring, looking out toward that princess's residence, she composed a further poem.
The author is known only as the daughter of Sugawara no Takasue. The Kōtaigōgū is Kenshi, third daughter of Fujiwara no Michinaga, who became empress to Emperor Sanjō and was styled Kōtaigōgū from the tenth month of Kannin 2 (1018) after his death. The Ippon no Miya was Sanjō's third daughter, born to Kenshi. The Rokkakudō is the Chōhōji in the capital, so called because its main hall is hexagonal.
Each returning spring, at the house in the capital, looking out toward the residence of the Ippon no Miya.
A figure in a dream had told her of the watercourse at the Rokkakudō and bidden her put her faith in Amaterasu Ōmikami, and she had told no one and let it go. Looking out each spring toward that princess's residence, she composed this poem.
It is a solitary poem, and no reply is recorded. Writing years later, the author adds that letting the dream pass was a poor thing indeed, and the message about Amaterasu Ōmikami is taken up again in the later scene of the future seen in a mirror.
Saku to machi is "waiting to see whether they will open." In the second line nu is the auxiliary of completion: grieving that they have fallen. The two lines answer each other and set out a spring spent shuttling between expectation and regret. Haru wa tada limits that state to the season. In the fourth line the suffix gao adds the sense of wearing a certain look, of behaving as though something were so: as though the flowers were those of her own house. The closing kana is an exclamatory particle, and she ends by observing herself with a touch of wry amusement, watching another household's cherry from a distance as if it belonged to her. Placed directly after she dismisses the dream as a poor thing indeed, the poem shows without comment the girl whose heart went entirely to flowers and tales.
- Author
- Sugawara no Takasue no Musume
- Source
- Sarashina Nikki
- Other
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- Out of season snow is what I would have called it, gazing at it there— had the orange blossoms here not been sending out their scent
- To nowhere at all would it yield, and yet, and yet— here at my own house this autumn that ends, this sight of which I shall never tire
- Never sated, I came to that house's cherry only as spring closed and the petals were falling— just one glimpse, and that was all
- They pledged, so they say, on this day in days long gone— longing so to know, like the River of Heaven I have let my words break forth