風わたる山田の庵をもる月や
穂波に結ぶ氷なるらん
穂波に結ぶ氷なるらん
- Roma-ji
-
Kaze wataru yamada no io o moru tsuki ya honami ni musubu kōri naruramu
- English Translation
-
The wind goes across
and the moon that leaks in through
the hut in the field
can it be ice that has formed
on the waves of ripened grain
- Meaning
- The moonlight that leaks into the hut in the hill field where the wind goes over: is it ice formed on the waves of the ripening grain?
- Commentary
-
Book Four Autumn Poems I 426
Headnote: on the theme of viewing the moon from a house in the fields, at the Bureau of Poetry on the night of the fifteenth of the eighth month, 1204.
A run of poems on watching the moon from a hut in the fields begins here. The topic is that watching, and the poem was written at a gathering held on the night of the year's most celebrated moon.
The poet is recorded only by the office of former Chancellor, and no settled identification exists. The same designation is used in the two hundred and eleventh and seventy-sixth poems of this book.
The time is the fifteenth night of the eighth month; the place is a hut among the hill fields.
The occasion was submission to the gathering.
Such huts were rough shelters put up to guard the fields before the harvest, where a watcher slept and drove off birds and animals.
The first line means that the wind blows across, the phrase used in Ariie's three hundred and seventy-seventh poem.
The second line fixes the place.
The verb in the third line does double duty: light leaking through, and the guarding of a field. The hut exists to guard, and the moon comes through its roof, so that two senses meet in one place. An interrogative particle follows and governs the auxiliary at the close.
The fourth line names the ears of grain moving like waves, and the verb after it means for ice to form.
The closing line asks whether it is ice. The whiteness of moonlight is taken for ice, the recurrent device of mistaking one white thing for another.
- Author
- The Former Chancellor
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- On an autumn night the moon that lodges is still a thing of the dew and over my sleeve it blows the high wind through the reed-tops
- The moon of autumn takes lodging in the bamboo and its light rides high and on the field of dwarf grass the dew has deepened with night
- Where the wild geese come at Fushimi, in the fields I wake from my dream and at the hut where no one sleeps, I look up at the moon
- I leave it to the wind that goes through the rice leaves this hut where I live and it is the moon, in truth that keeps the watch until dawn