小倉山麓の里に木の葉散れば
梢に晴るる月を見るかな
梢に晴るる月を見るかな
- Roma-ji
-
Ogurayama fumoto no sato ni konoha chireba kozue ni haruru tsuki o miru kana
- English Translation
-
At Mount Ogura
in the village at its foot
the leaves have scattered,
and through the treetops, clear,
I gaze upon the moon
- Meaning
- In the village at the foot of Mount Ogura the leaves have fallen, and now I gaze at the moon shining clear through the bare treetops.
- Commentary
-
Book Six Winter Poems 603
Headnote continued from the preceding poem: "Topic unknown."
This is the thirteenth poem of the winter-moon sequence. Now that the leaves have fallen in the village at the foot of Mount Ogura, the moon shines clear through the bare treetops. The headnote continues from the preceding poem with no topic given, and the circumstances of composition are not recorded.
The author, "Saigyō Hōshi," is Saigyō. His lay name was Satō Norikiyo, and he served Retired Emperor Toba as a warrior of the Northern Guard, but took holy orders at twenty-three, traveled through the provinces, and left the poetry collection Sankashū.
The scene is a winter night after the leaves have fallen, and the place is the village at the foot of Mount Ogura in Yamashiro Province.
The direct occasion is not recorded.
The first line, "ogurayama," names a poetic place in Yamashiro Province, a mountain in Saga, present-day Ukyō Ward, Kyoto, facing Arashiyama across the Ōi River. It is famed for its autumn leaves.
The second line, "fumoto no sato ni," means "in the village at the foot of Mount Ogura."
The third line, "konoha chireba," means "when the leaves fall" and runs to six syllables, one over the count. "Ba" attached to the perfective form expresses an established condition.
The fourth line, "kozue ni haruru," means "shining clear through the treetops." The treetops once thick with leaves no longer block the moon after the leaves have fallen.
The last line, "tsuki o miru kana," closes with the exclamatory particle "kana." Following 592 in this book, which sang of moonlight filtering between the trees, and 593, which imagined a moon unclouded by leaves, this poem too sings of a moon seen clearly because the leaves have fallen, repeating the pairing of falling leaves and moon. From the morning frost on crimson leaves in the preceding poem, it returns to the night moon after the leaves are gone.
- Author
- Saigyō
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
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- In the night of frost and dew I sat awake as it settled, and while I gazed upon the moon of the winter night my sleeves froze stiff
- The crimson leaves— it was you who dyed them this very color! And yet you lie there so aloof, you frost of this morning
- Has it swept away every trace of autumn's color, that now it blows against the laurel of the moon in the far heavens, the withering wind?
- The wind grows cold, and night by night the leaves thin out until the sky shows through; leaving no shadowed corner, the moonlight in the garden