嵐のみ吹くめる宿にはなすゝき
穗に出でたりとかひやなからむ
穗に出でたりとかひやなからむ
- Roma-ji
-
Arashi nomi fukumeru yado ni hanasusuki ho ni idetari to kai ya nakaramu
- English Translation
-
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?
- Meaning
- At a house where nothing but storm winds seem to blow, what use would there be if the plume grass did come out into the open?
- 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.
Kaneie had answered that at her call the grass would bend to her first of all, and when the messenger came again she sent this poem.
After it Kaneie smoothed the matter over in words and appeared once more, leading on to the exchange at the garden flowers: "Momokusa ni midarete miyuru hana no iro wa tada shiratsuyu no oku ni ya aruramu."
She takes back his plume grass and his coming into the open. The opening means that nothing blows there but violent wind, and the word for storm sounds as well the word for a house falling into neglect, pointing to a dwelling left desolate by the failure of his visits. Where he had produced the mild east wind, she sets against it the storm, and the exchange of wind words forms the frame of the whole sequence. The grass of the third line is his own word returned, and here it stands for the author. The fourth line means: even were the feeling spoken aloud. The close asks whether there would be any use in it, the interrogative particle keeping the poem from any flat assertion. His vow that the grass would bend at her call is let past with the observation that in a house where only storms blow no such vow could reach — and the stance of her first poem, that she would keep silent, is still unbroken.
- Author
- The Mother of Fujiwara no Michitsuna
- Source
- Kagero Nikki
- Other
-
- 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.
- 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.
- The color of these flowers, that seem all tangled in among the grasses — does it lie only where the white dew settles, deep within?
- The heart of the dew that lies upon the flower and is troubled, thinking of its own autumn — that needs no saying; you know it well.