おくれじとうきみさゝぎに思ひ入る
心は死出の山にやあるらむ
心は死出の山にやあるらむ
- Roma-ji
-
Okureji to uki misasagi ni omoiiru kokoro wa shide no yama ni ya aruramu
- English Translation
-
Not to be left behind —
so my heart enters into
that bitter tomb, and
now, perhaps, it is already
on the mountain of the dead.
- Meaning
- Not to be left behind, my heart goes into that bitter tomb; and now, perhaps, it stands already on the mountain of the dead.
- Commentary
-
25 The Death of Emperor Murakami and Kaneie's Promotion
The fifth month came. Past the tenth there was the matter of the Emperor's illness, and before the outcry had well begun he died, some time after the twentieth. The Crown Prince acceded at once. The man who had been Assistant of the Crown Prince's household was now spoken of as Head Chamberlain, and there was such a noise about it that the grief was left to the world at large while in this house one heard of nothing but congratulation. Answering all that gave her some sense of being like other people, though her private mind was as it had always been, and everything about her was noisy in a way quite opposite to her feeling. Hearing talk of the tomb and the rest, she thought with sorrow of what those who had enjoyed the Emperor's favor must be feeling. When some days had passed she wrote to the lady of the Jōganden to ask how she did, and added a poem. The answer was very sorrowful. The forty-nine days ended and the seventh month came. A young Guards officer who had served the Emperor, still young and with no sign of any trouble on his mind, abandoned parents and wife alike, climbed up into the mountains and became a monk. While people were exclaiming at it and calling it pitiful, word came that his wife too had become a nun. Since the author had exchanged letters with her before, she wrote to condole, finding it very sad and astonishing; and an answer came back at once. That too was very sad.
The author was a daughter of Fujiwara no Tomoyasu. The Emperor is Murakami, who died in the fifth month of the fourth year of Kōhō. The man who had been Assistant of the Crown Prince's household is Kaneie, third son of Fujiwara no Morosuke; the accession made him Head Chamberlain, and he would rise to be regent and chancellor. The lady of the Jōganden was Morosuke's daughter and a consort of the late Emperor, and Kaneie's sister; the text gives no name, and she is taken to be Fujiwara no Tōshi. Neither the Guards officer who became a monk nor his wife who became a nun is named. A marginal note in the base text identifies the acceding Crown Prince as Enyū, but the emperor who acceded in the fourth year of Kōhō was Reizei.
It is the fifth month of the fourth year of Kōhō, some while after the Emperor's death, and the place is the lady's residence.
It answers the poem the author added to her letter of inquiry, "Yo no naka o hakanaki mono to misasagi no umoruru yama ni nagekuramu ya zo," and the narrative calls it very sorrowful.
After this exchange the forty-nine days end, the seventh month comes, and the account moves to the Guards officer's taking of vows and the condolences sent to his wife.
She takes back the tomb and the mountain. The opening means not to be left behind — that is, not to remain when the other has gone before. The second line calls the tomb a bitter one. The verb in the third means to enter deeply into a thought, but the word for entering also covers going up into the mountain where the tomb lies buried, so that the heart seems literally to walk into that mountain; it is this word that carries the poem across into what follows. The mountain of the dead is the one the departed are said to cross, and the heart moves from the mountain of the tomb to that other mountain along the same word. The close joins conjecture to a question, so that she seems to be asking herself whether her heart is not already there. Asked how deeply she grieves, she does not measure her grief but answers that her heart has already left this world — which is exactly what the narrative means in calling the reply very sorrowful.
- Source
- Kagero Nikki
- Other
-
- If I cannot know how much you think of me, what use is there in it? Over and over, I would have the number shown to me.
- Seeing the world as a fleeting thing — at that hill where the tomb lies buried, are you grieving even now, I wonder, over there?
- To think of him in the deep mountains is grief enough; and now, on top of that, this cloud of heaven, this nun's veil — what does it mean?
- Though I go seeking him who went deep into the mountains, still he is as far off as the clouds of heaven, and beyond my reach.