Matsuyama no sashikoete shimo araji yo o ware ni yosoete sawagu nami kana

English Translation

No wave will ever
cross the pine-clad hill; and yet,
likening it to
me, here is a wave that goes
noisily about its business.

Meaning

No wave will ever cross the pine-clad hill; and yet here is a wave that makes a commotion, and likens it all to me.

Commentary

26 Exchanges with the Lady of the Jōganden

Toward the end of the twelfth month the lady of the Jōganden withdrew to the house on the west. On the last day of the month there was a sudden earthquake, and from midday on it went on rumbling and rattling while she sat watching it alone; and so the year turned to the first of Anna. About midday on New Year's Day, since no men were about among the guest's household, all was quiet. Hearing that the lady was still next door, they laughed together over what one waits for on such a day; and while they were at it, someone idly fetched a little figure of a man made of millet, pressed it against the leg-end of the pheasant from before, wrote on it, and sent it in to the lady. She dried some seaweed, tore it into short pieces, tied them together, shifted the load to the end of the pole, carved a calf onto the leg that had been thin, and sent it back larger than it had come. When the day was well up the festival food was served; the same was done in this house, and the fifteenth also passed in the usual way. The third month came. A letter that seemed meant for the guest's household was misdelivered here. It read that he could not leave things as they were and thought of calling before long, but that there might be someone who would rather it were not he. Since the lady had long been used to seeing such things, the author supposed this was how it went; even so she did not let it pass, but wrote a few words very small, and sent it back saying that it should be taken to that lady. When the lady had read it a reply came at once. Since this lady attended the Crown Prince almost as a mother, she was bound to go to the palace. She said again and again that she could not stay as she was, and so the author called on her in the evening. Just then voices were heard on the other side; the lady kept saying so, so, but the author would not attend to it, and the lady seemed to be growing drowsy as one does in the early evening. Then someone came walking up and made an announcement, and the author went home without any ease of mind. The next evening the lady went to the palace. In the fifth month, when she withdrew to put off mourning for the Emperor, it had been arranged that she should come here as before; but saying she had seen something inauspicious in a dream, she withdrew to the other house. Since portents kept coming in dreams, and she wished there were some way of averting them, in the seventh month, on a night of very bright moon, she sent a poem. Four poems on dreams follow, and then an exchange on a river.
The author was a daughter of Fujiwara no Tomoyasu. The lady of the Jōganden was a daughter of Fujiwara no Morosuke and a consort of the late Emperor Murakami, and Kaneie's sister; the text gives no name, and she is taken to be Fujiwara no Tōshi. At the end of the previous year she had withdrawn to the house immediately west of the author's, and the exchanges that follow depend upon that nearness. The writer of the misdelivered letter is Kaneie, third son of Fujiwara no Morosuke, who would rise to be regent and chancellor.
It is the third month of the first year of Anna, and the place is the author's dwelling.
A letter of Kaneie's, evidently meant for the lady next door, was misdelivered here. It said that he could not leave things as they were and meant to call before long, but that there might be someone who would rather it were not he. Rather than let it pass, the author wrote this in very small characters and sent the letter on, saying it should be taken to that lady.
When the lady read it, a reply came at once: "Matsushima no kaze ni shitagau nami nare ya yosuru kata koso tachimasarikere."

The hill of the opening is the famous pine-clad hill that no wave is said to cross. Ever since the old poem declaring that if the speaker turned to another heart the waves would cross that hill, it has served as the figure for what could never happen — a change of heart. The second line speaks of the waves crossing it, and the third denies that any such thing occurs. The verb in the fourth line means to liken, to make a pretext of, and it answers Kaneie's line about someone who might rather it were not he: that she should be spoken of as though she would obstruct him is what the word protests. The close lays the noisy rising of waves over the manner of a man taking groundless precautions, and the noun ending leaves a note of exasperation. The whole handling — forwarding the misdirected letter to its proper address and adding only a few small characters — shows a deliberate restraint, and that restraint sets the pitch of the poem.

Author

The Mother of Fujiwara no Michitsuna

Source

Kagero Nikki

Other