来ぬまでも花ゆゑ人の待たれつる
春も暮れぬる深山辺の里
春も暮れぬる深山辺の里
- Roma-ji
-
Konu made mo hana yue hito no mataretsuru haru mo kurenuru miyamabe no sato
- English Translation
-
Even unarrived
for the flowers' sake I found
myself awaiting
them; and now the spring is gone
here in this deep mountain place
- Meaning
- No one came, and for the flowers' sake I found myself waiting all the same; and now the spring too has ended, here in the village deep in the hills.
- Commentary
-
Book Two Spring Poems II 170
Headnote: composed on the theme of the last day of the third month at a mountain house.
The fourth poem grieving over the end of spring. The topic is the close of the third month seen from a house in the hills; the last day of that month was the last day of spring and served as a subject for poems on the season's end.
Fujiwara no Koretsuna was a poet of the late Heian period.
The time is the last day of the third month; the place is a village deep among the hills.
The occasion was the set topic.
The first line means: though no one came. That nobody in fact arrived is conceded at the outset.
The word in the second line marks cause: because the flowers were there.
The auxiliary in the third line is spontaneous in force: he found himself waiting. He did not set out to wait; the flowers made the waiting happen of itself.
The particle in the fourth line carries the sense that on top of the absence of callers the spring is gone as well.
The poem closes on a noun. Gyoson's hundred and sixty-eighth poem anticipated that no one would come once spring had ended; this one reports that no one came even while it lasted, and the solitude is the more complete. It belongs with Hachijoin no Takakura's fifty-fourth poem in Book One, in which the plum fell with no visitor at all.
- Author
- Fujiwara no Koretsuna
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- Under the branches my dwelling will fall to waste from this time onward for when the spring has gone by who will come to visit me
- Where the harbour lies of the spring that darkens down nobody can say and into the haze it drops a brushwood boat on Uji
- At Furu the field of early rice is turned back over on itself and I cannot turn my grief at the ending of the spring
- Though I know it well that saying wait will not hold anything at all still, past all reason, I grieve at parting from the springtime