よのうちは松にも露はかゝりけり
明くれば消ゆるものこそ思へ
明くれば消ゆるものこそ思へ
- Roma-ji
-
Yo no uchi wa matsu ni mo tsuyu wa kakarikeri akureba kiyuru mono koso omoe
- English Translation
-
Within the night, dew
had settled even on the
pine that waits; and now
I know it for a thing that
vanishes when the day comes.
- Meaning
- Within the night the dew had settled even on the waiting pine; and now I know it for a thing that vanishes when day comes.
- Commentary
-
42 The Beginning of the Nights Apart
The fourth month came. From about the tenth, and again until about the tenth of the fifth month, he said that he was strangely unwell just then, and did not come as he used to. He said he had borne it at the great house for seven or eight days but could not rest for wondering how she did; that he might manage it within the night; and yet that since he was too ill to go even to the palace, it would not do to be seen out and about. Having said all this and gone home, he sent a messenger; and hearing of it, she felt only that the waiting hours were going by. Thinking it strange, she resolved privately to see how this night went; and in the end not even a message came, and a long while passed. It was strange and unheard of, but she kept up an unconcerned face. At night her heart lurched at every carriage in the street; sometimes she fell asleep and woke to find it already light, which was more dismaying still. The child went back and forth and listened, but there seemed to be nothing whatever the matter; his father did not so much as ask how she was. Still less, she thought, would she be the one to call it strange; and so she passed the night, and when the shutters were raised she looked out and saw that rain had fallen in the night, and dew lay on the trees. The poem came to her the moment she saw it.
The author was a daughter of Fujiwara no Tomoyasu. Kaneie was the third son of Fujiwara no Morosuke and would rise to be regent and chancellor. The child is her son Fujiwara no Michitsuna, who goes to his father's house and brings back word.
It is the fifth month of the first year of Tenroku, and the place is the author's dwelling.
A long while had passed without even a message; she had lain awake all night, her heart lurching at every carriage, and when the shutters were raised she looked out and saw that rain had fallen in the night, with dew on the trees. The poem came to her the moment she saw it.
It was sent to no one and stayed within her. Afterward the death of the Minister of Ono no Miya served as a pretext, the visits ceased, and the interval grew longer still.
The word at the opening means the night and also the world, so that within the night and within this life are said at once. The tree of the second line is the pine, and its name is also the verb to wait, and on that the poem turns: the sight of dew on a pine folds back into the thought that a waiting woman too has something resting on her. The auxiliary in the third line marks a realization — that it had indeed been there through the night. The closing lines say that she now knows it for something that vanishes at daybreak, the emphatic particle deepening the reflection. While one waits there is hope; when morning comes it goes: the night spent with her heart lurching at every carriage passes straight into the argument of the poem. The only object in it is a single dewdrop after rain, and into that are set two pivots — night and world, pine and waiting — so that the length of the interval is conveyed without being stated.
- Author
- The Mother of Fujiwara no Michitsuna
- Source
- Kagero Nikki
- Other
-
- Living out ten thousand ages there beside the fields, does she wait, and wait through all their turning round and round, for autumn to come again?
- Living on through years that pile as the snow piles down, I find no season appointed for my melting — and it is myself I blame.
- Does the warbler too brood on something with no term set to it? I hear it crying with a voice that, in this sixth month, is not spent.
- Voice answering voice, they come to me contending, vying with each other — had they been waiting for us, the cicadas at the barrier?