結ぶ手に影乱れゆく山の井の
飽かでも月の傾きにける
飽かでも月の傾きにける
- Roma-ji
-
Musubu te ni kage midareyuku yama no i no akade mo tsuki no katabukinikeru
- English Translation
-
In my cupped hands' hold
the reflected light breaks up
in the mountain well
and before I had my fill
the moon had gone down and set
- Meaning
- The moon's reflection scatters in the mountain spring each time I cup my hands; and before I had my fill of it the moon had sunk.
- Commentary
-
Book Three Summer Poems 258
Headnote: from the time when he presented a fifty-poem sequence.
A run on clear water and coolness begins here. This poem takes the moon reflected in a mountain spring. The headnote assigns it to a fifty-poem sequence.
The poet, given as former Archbishop, is Jien; this is his fourth appearance in this book, after the hundred and seventy-seventh, two hundred and forty-second and two hundred and fifty-first poems.
The time is a summer night; the place is a spring in the hills, a shallow pool among the mountains.
The occasion was the presentation of the fifty poems.
The model is Ki no Tsurayuki's poem in the Kokin Wakashu about a mountain spring clouded by the drops from cupped hands, and a parting from someone before one has had one's fill.
The verb in the first line means to take water up in the hands, and the line is the model's own.
The second line has the moon's reflection breaking up. Where the model speaks of the water clouding, this poem substitutes the scattering of the light: a matter of touch becomes a matter of sight only.
The third line is again the model's.
The fourth line means without having had enough, also the model's word. There it governed a parting from a person; here it governs the setting of the moon, so that a poem of separation becomes a poem of a summer night.
An exclamatory auxiliary at the close marks the realisation that the moon had sunk unobserved. The night has passed while the poet cupped water, and the shortness of a summer night is at work again.
- Author
- Jien
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- Close by my window the wind is playing over the bamboo's leaves, and at that sound it is shorter still, this dream of a light sleep
- Close by my window the little clump of bamboo and when the wind blows I wake and think it autumn out of a summer night's dream
- At Kiyomi Bay the moon is unconcerned, and the gate of heaven is not open yet, and still the waves are whitening there
- Even folded twice how cool it is, this summer robe, for the moonlight has come to lodge in the thin cloth of the sleeve, and shines there