待てといふに止まらぬものと知りながら
強ひてぞ惜しき春の別れは
強ひてぞ惜しき春の別れは
- Roma-ji
-
Mate to iu ni tomaranu mono to shirinagara shiite zo oshiki haru no wakare wa
- English Translation
-
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
- Meaning
- I know that saying wait will hold nothing back, and still, for all that, I grieve at parting from the spring.
- Commentary
-
Book Two Spring Poems II 172
Headnote: a poem for the contest at the Empress's palace in the Kanpyo era.
The sixth poem grieving over the end of spring. Knowing that nothing can be held back, the poet grieves regardless. The headnote places it at a contest held at the Empress's palace in the reign of Emperor Uda, the same contest as the sixty-fifth poem of Book One and the hundred and ninth of this one.
The poet is recorded only as unknown.
The time is the end of spring; no place is given.
The occasion was submission to the contest.
The first line means: though one says wait. The season is addressed as though it could be spoken to.
The second line, with a quotative particle, gives what is known: that nothing stops.
The concessive particle in the third line means: knowing it. What reason understands is granted first.
The adverb in the fourth line means by force, in spite of everything, and an emphatic particle governs the attributive adjective. The whole movement of a feeling that reason cannot settle is gathered into that one word.
The poem closes on a noun reaching back to the fourth line, in inversion. Sanesada's hundred and forty-first poem refused all argument and gave only the fact; this one accepts the argument and declares itself unable to follow it, treating the same subject of impermanence from another side.
- Author
- Unknown Poet
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- Even unarrived for the flowers' sake I found myself awaiting them; and now the spring is gone here in this deep mountain place
- 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
- On the brushwood door the light of the sun that shone is gone without trace and the spring is going down in cloud at the mountain's edge
- From tomorrow on who will come, even seldom to the flower fields of Shiga, and pay a call on this old home of the spring