鴬の涙のつらら打ち解けて
古巣ながらや春を知るらん
古巣ながらや春を知るらん
- Roma-ji
-
Uguisu no namida no tsurara uchitokete furusu nagara ya haru o shiruramu
- English Translation
-
The warbler's own tears
that hung in ice have now thawed
and though in old nests
still it may be that the bird
has come to know it is spring
- Meaning
- The icicles of the warbler's tears have thawed; and there in its old nest, without stirring, it must know that spring has come.
- Commentary
-
Book One Spring Poems I 31
Headnote: from the time when he presented a hundred-poem sequence.
This poem closes the run on the warbler. It imagines that the tears the bird shed through the winter had frozen into icicles, and that their thawing lets it know spring has come without leaving the nest at all. The headnote refers to the Shoji sequences of 1200.
Prince Koreakira (1179-1221) was the third son of Emperor Takakura and elder brother of Retired Emperor Go-Toba. He never came to the throne and gave himself to poetry.
The season is early spring; the place is the warbler's old nest.
The occasion was the presentation of the hundred-poem sequence.
The first two lines set out a wholly invented scene: tears shed by a warbler, frozen into icicles. The poem is built on the premise that a bird weeps.
The verb in the third line means both that ice thaws and that a heart softens. The literal melting of the icicles carries the bird's own easing with it.
The particle in the fourth line means while remaining so, without moving; an interrogative particle follows and governs the auxiliary at the close. The question is whether the bird can know the season without leaving its nest.
The final auxiliary expresses present conjecture: by now it must know. The poem ends by reasoning about the inward state of a creature it cannot see.
The seventeenth poem asked the wind to call the warbler out and the eighteenth showed it singing amid snow; this one enters the bird's mind as it sits in the nest. Across the run the vantage moves steadily from outside to inside.
- Author
- Prince Koreakira
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- The catalpa bow is drawn: near the hills of spring I have made my home and without a break I hear the voice of the warbler there
- On the plum tree's branch singing, moving as it goes the warbler; and now over its wings shining white the light snow is falling still
- Over splashing rocks above the cascading fall the young bracken shoots are pushing up: it has turned to spring at last, has it not
- The plain of heaven the smoke of Fuji rising the colour of spring trailing off into the haze the sky at break of morning