Chirikite mo toi zo shitemashi koto no ha o kochi wa sabakari fukishi tayori ni

English Translation

I would have had you
ask of me — had the leaves of
your words but blown here
and scattered, on the strength of
that wind that blew so hard then.

Meaning

I would have had you ask after me — had the leaves of your words blown here and scattered, carried on that wind that blew so hard.

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.
It answers Kaneie's claim that he sent no word because he meant to come in person.
Kaneie replied with "Kochi to ieba ōsora narishi kaze ni ide tsukete wa towamu atara nadate ni," and the author, in no mood to be beaten, returned "Chirasaji to oshimi okikeru koto no ha o kinagara dani zo kesa wa towamashi."

She takes back his scattering and his leaves of words. The opening means: even if they had come scattering — as leaves blown by the wind come flying, so at least a word might have reached her. The second line means that she wishes he had asked after her, in the form used for what did not in fact happen. The word in the fourth line is the east wind and also the word for this way, here; it is the very word Kaneie himself used earlier in this section when he spoke of the wind whose name says come here, and the author now takes it back for her own use. The close joins the sense of tidings carried on the wind to the sense of an opportunity, a passing chance. Her argument is that with a wind blowing that hard he might easily have entrusted a word to it — and it demolishes his excuse for having sent none.

Author

The Mother of Fujiwara no Michitsuna

Source

Kagero Nikki

Other