Koto no ha wa chiri mo ya suru to tomeokite kyō wa mikara mo tou ni ya wa aranu

English Translation

Thinking that my words,
like leaves, might scatter, I have
kept them back; today
have I not come to ask of
you in my own person instead?

Meaning

Thinking my words might scatter like leaves, I kept them back. Have I not come today in my own person to ask after you?

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 autumn in the first year of Tentoku, two days or so after something like a typhoon, and the place is the author's dwelling.
Kaneie came two days after the storm, and the author remarked that an ordinary man would have asked how she had fared in the wind. He seemed to think she had a point, and without any fuss composed this poem.
The author answered with "Chirikite mo toi zo shitemashi koto no ha o kochi wa sabakari fukishi tayori ni," and four poems passed between them in all.

The opening means words and at the same time leaves, and both senses are alive at once in a scene where the storm has only just stripped the trees. The second line means that they might scatter, laying over the image of leaves blown away the possibility of a letter that never arrives. The third means that he kept them back, that is, refrained from writing. The fourth names his own person, insisting that he has come himself rather than sending a messenger or a note. The close is rhetorical in force: is he not asking after her — indeed he is. Reproached for having sent no word of inquiry, he turns it around: he sent none precisely because he meant to come. As the narrative puts it, he answered without any fuss, and there is no sign of contrition in it.

Author

Fujiwara no Kaneie

Source

Kagero Nikki

Other