Yukuenaki tabinosoranimo okurenuwa miyakonitemishi ariakenotsuki

English Translation

Even in the sky
of a journey with no end
it has not fallen
behind me: the very moon
of daybreak I saw at home

Meaning

The one thing that has not fallen behind, even under the sky of an aimless journey, is the dawn moon I used to see in the capital.

Commentary

Section 30: A Life of Pilgrimages

Setting down without order things separated by two or three, or four or five years makes her look like an ascetic forever on the road; but it is not so—these were things years apart.
Around spring she went into retreat at Kurama. The ridgeline was hazed over and everything peaceful, and it was pleasant that people came down from the hills with a few wild yams they had dug. The road out held nothing, the blossom all fallen; but going up again about the tenth month, the mountain country along the way was far finer at that season. The ridge looked like brocade spread open, and the water came boiling down and leapt back like scattered crystal—better than anywhere. Reaching the temple and coming to the monks' quarters, she found maples soaked with the passing rains, beautiful past comparison, and made a poem.
Two years or so later she went into retreat at Ishiyama, where rain fell hard all night. Having heard that rain is a nuisance when one is away from home, she pushed up the shutter and looked out: the dawn moon lay clear to the very floor of the valley, and what she had taken for rain was water running from the roots of the trees. She made a poem on that.
Going once more to Hatsuse, she felt incomparably surer of herself than the first time. People made ready for her here and there along the way, so that she could not press on. In Yamashiro the maples of the Hahaso wood were at their finest. Crossing the Hatsuse River she made another poem, and to think so was itself a comfort.
Coming away after three days of retreat, the party this time was too large to lodge in the little houses on the near side of Narazaka, and a rough hut was thrown up in the open country, so that the people simply sat out in the fields all night. Leggings were spread on the grass and matting laid over them, and the night passed in the flimsiest of arrangements, with the dew settling thick even on their heads. The moon toward dawn was wonderfully clear, lovely beyond anything, and she made one more poem.

The author is known only as the daughter of Sugawara no Takasue. Kurama is the Kuramadera north of the capital, Ishiyama the Ishiyamadera in Ōmi, Hatsuse the Hasedera in Yamato, and the Hahaso wood a poetic place name in Yamashiro. The "token of the cedar" refers to her earlier retreat at Hatsuse, when at dawn she dreamed that something was thrown out to her with the words that it was a cedar granted as a sign from Inari.

Toward dawn, after three days of retreat at Hatsuse, in the open country before Narazaka where a rough hut had been put up.

The party was too large to lodge in the small houses, so a rough hut was set up in the fields and the night passed there; leggings were spread on the grass with matting over them, and the dew settled thick even on their heads. In the middle of all that the dawn moon stood wonderfully clear and lovely beyond anything, and that is what drew the poem.

It is a solitary poem, and no reply is recorded. The account of the pilgrimages closes with it, and the following section turns to days in which nothing much goes against her and she wishes above all to see her small children brought up as she would like.

Yukue naki is without a fixed destination, aimless, and modifies the sky of the second line, where mo adds the sense of "even in a place as comfortless as this." In the third line okuru is to be left behind, with nu the attributive of the negative auxiliary: the thing that has not fallen behind. Miyako nite mishi uses shi, the attributive of the past auxiliary ki, for what she was used to seeing at home. The poem ends on a noun, setting the answer there. In a place so comfortless that everyone must simply sit out in a field till daylight, she finds one thing unchanged from the capital. Paired with "Tanigawano nagarewaameto kikoyuredo hokayorikenaru ariakenotsuki" earlier in the section, the same dawn moon is used to opposite ends: that poem marks how a place differs, this one how something holds constant across places. Ever since "Madoromaji koyoinaradewa itsukamimu kurotonohamano akinoyonotsuki" in the first part, the author has made poems of the moon seen on a journey; here the moon of the road is taken as the very same moon as the moon of home.

Author

Sugawara no Takasue no Musume

Source

Sarashina Nikki

Other