身のあきを思ひ亂るゝ花の上の
露のこゝろはいへばさらなり
露のこゝろはいへばさらなり
- Roma-ji
-
Mi no aki o omoi midaruru hana no ue no tsuyu no kokoro wa ieba sara nari
- English Translation
-
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.
- Meaning
- The heart of the dew upon the flower, troubled by thoughts of its own autumn — that goes without saying.
- 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.
He answered on the spot the poem she had spoken while gazing at the garden flowers.
After this exchange, late in the night, when the moon of the twentieth rose above the ridge and he showed signs of leaving, the author composed "Ikani semu yama no ha ni dani todomarade kokoro mo sora ni idemu tsuki o ba."
He takes back her tangling, her flower and her dew. In the opening, the word for autumn also means to grow weary of a thing, and on that syllable the poem turns. Where she had asked after the source of the flower's color, he raises instead the lot of one who is tired of, reversing the direction of the reproach. The second line receives her tangled appearance and draws the disorder of the plants over into the disorder of the heart. The third and fourth speak of the heart of the dew upon the flower, restating as the dew's own feeling what she had entrusted to the dew as a question. The close means that it goes without saying, holding her off with the suggestion that she must know it already without being told. As the narrative says, what passed was on both sides a reproach: he neither apologizes nor consoles, but answers that it is he who is the one grown tired of.
- Author
- Fujiwara no Kaneie
- Source
- Kagero Nikki
- Other
-
- 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?
- What am I to do with a moon that will not stay even on the ridge, but goes out, and goes out with its heart already elsewhere?
- If you tell me that my heart goes out into the wide sky, then surely its light must be lingering there with you as well, must it not?