身を捨てゝうきをも知らぬ旅だにも
山路にもふかく思ひこそ入れ
山路にもふかく思ひこそ入れ
- Roma-ji
-
Mi o sutete uki o mo shiranu tabi dani mo yamaji ni mo fukaku omoi koso ire
- English Translation
-
Even on a journey
made in self-abandonment,
knowing nothing of
the hardship, one enters deep —
deep into thought, and the hills.
- Meaning
- Even on a journey made in self-abandonment, by one who knows nothing of the hardship, the thoughts go in as deep as the mountain road.
- Commentary
-
54 The Retreat at Narutaki
On the fourth of the sixth month, setting out before Kaneie's period of abstinence was over, she went to the temple at Narutaki in the western hills and shut herself up there. Kaneie came to fetch her and she would not go; letters passed, and life at the mountain temple went on. Her sister visited, Kaneie's messenger came, she hardened a sorrowful resolve, and another letter came from him. Letters of inquiry arrived one after another, and though she answered them the next day, the time went by while she turned over such thoughts as that she did not mean to stay shut up forever. She put that state of mind into a poem and sent it to one who had written. An answer came. Then, to the gentlewomen on night duty, someone who had once served in that office sent a poem, saying that they too must be attending their mistress with heavy hearts, and that there is a poem about how high and low alike have their risings and fallings. Hearing of it from the woman, the author told her to answer quickly, and she replied that seeing their mistress holding back her tears made them all wretched. Later a relative came to call, and the next day sent the things needed for a long stay away from home, adding that it must have been hard to come all that way to a mountain temple, with two poems. The author wrote back with great care and returned two poems of her own. Afterward letters passed with Tōshi, and a poem came also from an ascetic of the temple who had crossed the Ōmine range from Mitake to Kumano. In time Michitaka called, her father Tomoyasu came for her, and at last she came down from the mountain when Kaneie came to fetch her.
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. Narutaki is a place in the western hills of the capital, where the temple stood. The one who sent the letter of inquiry, the former attendant on night duty, the gentlewoman, the relative and the ascetic are none of them named in the text.
It is the sixth month of the second year of Tenroku, and the places are the capital and the mountain temple at Narutaki.
It was sent to the gentlewomen on night duty by someone who had formerly served in that office, with the remark that they too must be attending their mistress with heavy hearts, and that there is a poem about how high and low alike have their risings and fallings. It is not addressed to the author at all, but is an exchange between people in service.
Hearing of it from the woman, the author told her to answer quickly, and she replied with "Omoiizuru toki zo kanashiki okuyama no ko no shita tsuyu no itodo shigeki ni."
The opening means without regard for oneself, the resolve of one setting out on a journey. The second means not knowing the hardship of it, describing attendants who simply follow without being told the circumstances. The third means: even on such a journey, its particle marking the least case and implying how much more it must be for those who do know. The fourth names the mountain road and passes to the close, where the verb means both to go deep into a road and to be deep in thought, and on it the poem turns: as the road goes far into the hills, so do the thoughts. Rather than consoling the mistress in her retreat, the poem addresses the feelings of the women who attend her, and that it is sent to them is what determines its whole posture. That the diary should record such an exchange, without regard to the difference between mistress and servant, is one of the marks of the Narutaki passage.
- Source
- Kagero Nikki
- Other
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- Did I ever once so much as imagine it — that deep in the hills I should add a voice of my own to the evening bell?
- Sadder than the one who speaks is the one who hears. And what has become of her, grown old in this world, the woman of that old home?
- It is remembering that is the grief — here where the dew beneath the trees of the deep hills falls and falls, thicker and ever thicker.
- If the world were still the world that a world should be, I should never have come seeking you in hills where the summer grasses grow thick.