紅葉葉を何惜しみけん木の間より
漏りくる月は今宵こそ見れ
漏りくる月は今宵こそ見れ
- Roma-ji
-
Momijiba o nani oshimiken ko no ma yori morikuru tsuki wa koyoi koso mire
- English Translation
-
The crimson leaves—
why did I grieve to see them go?
Between the trees
the moonlight comes stealing through,
and tonight at last I see it
- Meaning
- Why did I ever grieve over the crimson leaves? Tonight, at last, I can see the moonlight stealing through between the bare trees.
- Commentary
-
Book Six Winter Poems 592
Headnote continued from the preceding poem: "Topic unknown."
This is the second poem of the winter-moon sequence. Seeing the moonlight stealing through the trees now that the leaves have fallen, the speaker wonders why he ever grieved over them. The headnote continues from the preceding poem with no topic given, and the circumstances of composition are not recorded.
The author, "Prince Tomohira, Minister of Central Affairs," is Prince Tomohira. A son of Emperor Murakami, he served as Minister of Central Affairs and was known as the Later Prince of Central Affairs. He excelled in poetry and learning.
The scene is a winter night after the leaves have fallen, and the place is where the moon can be seen between the trees.
The direct occasion is not recorded.
The first line, "momijiba o," means "the crimson leaves," pointing to leaves that have already fallen.
The second line, "nani oshimiken," means "why did I grieve over them?" with "ken" as an auxiliary conjecturing the reason for something past. The poem breaks after the second line.
The third line, "ko no ma yori," means "from between the trees."
The fourth line, "morikuru tsuki wa," means "the moonlight stealing through." The moon, hidden while the leaves were thick, now filters through the bare trees.
The last line, "koyoi koso mire," is a kakari-musubi construction in which "koso" is answered by the perfective "mire," meaning "tonight indeed I see it." The past grief over falling leaves is cancelled by the moon made visible precisely because they fell, and the poem turns its eye to what is gained in place of what is lost. The leaves blown down by the mountain wind in the preceding poem here bring about the moon between the trees.
- Author
- Prince Tomohira
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
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- To pass through this world is a hard and bitter thing, yet over my cedar roof how lightly it goes by, the first winter shower
- Faint and dimly bright, in the light of the moon of dawn, the lingering moon, blowing down the crimson leaves, the wind that sweeps down from the hills
- From the high peak after the storm wind has swept all clean, will the moon now rise unclouded by the leaves?
- On my frozen sleeve where the frost has hardened, still the light remains— the moon of dawn I came to know since the season of the dew