ほに出でばまづ靡きなむ花すゝき
こちてふ風の吹かむまにまに
こちてふ風の吹かむまにまに
- Roma-ji
-
Ho ni ideba mazu nabikinamu hanasusuki kochi chō kaze no fukamu manimani
- English Translation
-
If it came into
the open, the plume grass would
bend that way first of
all — bend as the east wind blows,
the wind whose name says: come here.
- Meaning
- If it came out into the open, the plume grass would bend that way first of all — bending as the east wind blows, the wind whose name calls: come here.
- Commentary
-
11 Kaneie's Visits Return
In the seventh month, about the time of the wrestling festival, Kaneie sent over a set of old robes and a set of new ones, wrapped up, asking that they be made up for him. The sight of them made the author's head swim. An old-fashioned member of the household thought it a pity, but the more spirited ones gathered and settled it among themselves — the thing was absurd, and better to be spoken ill of for failing to do it — and sent the bundles back. Sure enough, word came that he was having them made up here and there about the town. On his side too the refusal must have seemed very unkind, for more than twenty days passed without any word. Then at some point a letter came, saying that he would like to come but felt too awkward, and that if there were some definite occasion he might venture, timidly. She meant to send no answer, but the household said it was too unkind, and so she sent a poem. A reply came by return, and when the messenger came again she sent another; and Kaneie, smoothing the matter over in words, appeared once more. Gazing out at the garden flowers blooming in their various colors, they exchanged poems that were, on both sides, reproaches. Then, late in the night, when the moon of the twentieth rose above the ridge and he showed signs of leaving, the author composed a poem, and Kaneie answered it and stayed. Afterward there was something like a typhoon, and two days later he came. When the author remarked that an ordinary man would have asked how she had fared in the wind the other day, he seemed to think she had a point, and without any fuss composed a poem. Four poems passed between them, and the author, in no mood to be beaten, answered him back. Perhaps people judged that she was entitled to say as much. Then again, about the tenth month, he made to go out on some business he said could not be put off; the rain was more than could be called a passing shower, and yet he still meant to go, and in her astonishment a poem came to her lips.
Kaneie was the third son of Fujiwara no Morosuke and at this time Assistant Commander of the Right Guards; he would rise to be regent and chancellor. The author was a daughter of Fujiwara no Tomoyasu. The old-fashioned person who speaks about the robes is an elderly gentlewoman of conservative views.
It is the seventh month of the first year of Tentoku, about the time of the wrestling festival, and the place is the author's dwelling.
It came back by return, in answer to her poem declaring that she would say nothing and leave things to take their course.
She then sent "Arashi nomi fukumeru yado ni hanasusuki ho ni idetari to kai ya nakaramu." After this Kaneie smoothed the matter over in words and appeared once more.
He takes back her ears of grass, her bending and her plume grass just as they stood. The opening means: if the feeling were spoken aloud — turning her declaration that she would keep silent into an invitation to speak after all. The second line means that it would bend that way before any other, with a strong conjectural ending. The third names the grass again, and here it stands for Kaneie himself. In the fourth line the name of the east wind is also the word for come this way, a call, and on that syllable the poem turns. The close means: as the wind blows. Reproached as a grass that bends whichever way, he answers that at her call it would bend to her before all others, converting the charge into a vow of love. The force of the reply lies in trying to break down her posture of silence by asking her to speak.
- Author
- Fujiwara no Kaneie
- Source
- Kagero Nikki
- Other
-
- To go and seek out where the shore plover's traces come to rest at last — shall I only look on bays whose whereabouts I cannot know?
- I will not put it into the open — no, not a word; I shall leave it to the plume grass that bends any way, and simply watch.
- At a house where none but storm winds seem to blow, the plume grass — even if it came out into the open, would there be any use in it?
- The color of these flowers, that seem all tangled in among the grasses — does it lie only where the white dew settles, deep within?