木の葉散る宿に片敷く袖の色を
ありとも知らでゆく嵐かな
ありとも知らでゆく嵐かな
- Roma-ji
-
Konoha chiru yado ni katashiku sode no iro o ari tomo shirade yuku arashi kana
- English Translation
-
Leaves scatter down
at the lodge where I lie alone;
the color of my sleeve—
not knowing that it is there,
the storm wind passes on
- Meaning
- At my lodge where the leaves are falling, I sleep alone on a single spread sleeve, stained crimson with tears—and the storm wind passes on, never knowing that such a color lies here too.
- Commentary
-
Book Six Winter Poems 559
Headnote: "Composed and presented on the topic 'Falling Leaves' for the Kasuga Shrine Poetry Contest."
This is the seventh poem of the falling-leaves sequence. At a lodge where the leaves are falling, the sleeve of one who sleeps alone is dyed with crimson tears, yet the storm wind passes on without knowing that such a color lies on the sleeve as well. According to the headnote, it was composed and presented on the topic "Falling Leaves" for the Kasuga Shrine Poetry Contest.
The author, "Former Archbishop Jien," is Jien. A son of the Regent Fujiwara no Tadamichi, he served four times as Tendai Abbot and wrote the historical work Gukanshō.
The scene is a winter night as the leaves fall, and the place is a lodge swept by the storm wind.
The direct occasion is the topic "Falling Leaves" at the Kasuga Shrine Poetry Contest of Genkyū 1 (1204). Poems on "Falling Leaves" from the same contest follow in this book through 565.
The first line, "konoha chiru," presents leaves falling thick and fast and modifies "yado" in the second line.
In the second line, "yado ni katashiku," "katashiku" means to spread only one sleeve of one's robe to sleep on, that is, to sleep alone.
The third line, "sode no iro o," refers to the color of a sleeve dyed crimson by the tears of lonely sleep and runs to six syllables, one over the count. The crimson of the tears is overlaid with the crimson of the falling leaves.
The fourth line, "ari tomo shirade," means "not knowing that it is there too," with "de" as a negative conjunctive particle. The conceit is that the storm scatters the crimson leaves yet fails to notice the crimson lingering on the sleeve.
The last line, "yuku arashi kana," closes on the passing storm with the exclamatory particle "kana." Even the storm that strips the leaves cannot take the crimson from the sleeve, and only the color of grief remains. The next poem, 560, begins with the same first line, "konoha chiru," and likewise sings of the sleeve and the color of tears.
- Author
- Jien
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- When the day grows dark there is no one to be met; vine leaves scatter down, and of the storm wind on the peak only the sound remains
- Of its own accord, the one thing that makes a sound over the garden whirling up the fallen leaves is the evening wind of the valley
- Leaves scatter down— are they mingling with the showers? On my sleeve they fall until they seem the color of my tears so quick to flow
- Shifting, drifting on, in the clouds the storm wind's voice is heard to cry; are the vine leaves scattering on the mountain of Kazuraki?