秋の夜は衣さむしろ重ねても
月の光にしく物ぞなき
月の光にしく物ぞなき
- Roma-ji
-
Aki no yo wa koromo samushiro kasanete mo tsuki no hikari ni shiku mono zo naki
- English Translation
-
On an autumn night,
robes chilled, though I spread and pile
straw mats layered up,
there is nothing to compare
to the moonlight spread below
- Meaning
- On an autumn night, when robes are cold, though I pile up mat upon mat, nothing I spread can match the moonlight.
- Commentary
-
Book Five Autumn Poems II 489
Headnote: "Composed as a moon poem."
This is the fourth poem of the sequence on the moon and autumn nights. On an autumn night when robes are cold, however many mats one spreads, nothing matches the moonlight. According to the headnote, it was composed as a moon poem.
The author was a son of Minamoto no Michikata who rose to Major Counselor and died at his post as Supernumerary Governor-General of Dazaifu. He excelled in Chinese verse, waka, and music.
The scene is an autumn night, in a bedchamber where moonlight falls.
The direct occasion was composing a poem on the moon.
In the first line, "wa" marks the autumn night as the topic.
In the second line, "samu" is a pivot word joining "samushi," the robes are cold, with "samushiro," a sleeping mat ("sa" a prefix, "mushiro" a mat).
In the third line, "te mo" is concessive: "even if I pile up the mats."
The fourth line gives what is compared with in "shiku" in the last line.
In the last line, "shiku" is a pivot word joining "to spread" (a mat) with "to equal." The emphatic "zo" is resolved by the attributive "naki." Likening the white moonlight on the floor to a spread mat, the poem wittily praises the beauty of moonlight in the cold: however many mats are piled up, none can match it. Following 487, which likened moonlight on the bed to frost, this poem likens it to bedding. The next poem, 490, opens with the same "aki no yo wa."
- Author
- Minamoto no Tsunenobu
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- Sleeping all alone, on the long and trailing tail of the mountain bird frost seems to settle and stray— moonlight across my bedding
- The fields I once glimpsed, now all their scenery lies withered at the tips— on the dewdrops for its home the moonlight comes to lodge there
- The long autumn nights have become the Long Month now— so it has turned out; no wonder, then, that I find myself waking in the night
- The passing shower's dew has not yet dried away on the cedar leaves— and the mist is rising up in the dusk of autumn days