明けやらぬ寝覚めの床に聞こゆなり
籬の竹の雪の下折れ
籬の竹の雪の下折れ
- Roma-ji
-
Akeyaranu nezame no toko ni kikoyu nari magaki no take no yuki no shitaore
- English Translation
-
Before the day has dawned
upon my bed where I lie waking
there comes a sound—
the bamboo by the fence
snapping beneath the snow
- Meaning
- Lying awake before the dawn has come, I hear it from my bed: the bamboo by the fence snapping under the weight of snow.
- Commentary
-
Book Six Winter Poems 667
Headnote: "On the theme 'Hearing Snow Deep in the Night.'"
This is the eleventh poem of the snow sequence. From a bed where one lies awake before dawn, the sound is heard of bamboo by the fence snapping under the weight of snow. According to the headnote, it was composed on the topic "Hearing Snow Deep in the Night."
The author, "Minister of Justice Norikane," is Fujiwara no Norikane. A poet of the late Heian period who served as Minister of Justice, he wrote the poetic treatise Waka Dōmōshō.
The scene is before dawn, and the place is the bedchamber of a dwelling with a fence.
The direct occasion is the topic "Hearing Snow Deep in the Night."
The first line, "akeyaranu," means "not yet fully dawned," with "yara" adding the sense of completion and "nu" as the attributive form of the negative auxiliary "zu."
The second line, "nezame no toko ni," means "on the bed where I have woken in the night."
The third line, "kikoyu nari," means "a sound is heard," with "nari" as an auxiliary that infers from sound. The poem breaks after the third line, in inverted relation to the lower verse.
The fourth line, "magaki no take no," means "of the bamboo by the woven fence."
The last line, "yuki no shitaore," closes on a noun, naming branches or stems breaking under the weight of snow. The poem knows the unseen snow in the darkness by the sound of breaking bamboo, rendering the topic "Hearing Snow Deep in the Night" by grasping the depth of snow through sound. Where the preceding poem inferred snow on distant White Mountain from the coldness of a sleeve, this poem knows the depth of snow in the garden close by from the sound of snapping bamboo, so that two poems grasping snow at night through different senses, cold and sound, stand side by side.
- Author
- Fujiwara no Norikane
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- Only now I hear it— the heart leaves no footprints after all; though through the snow I pushed my way, sending my thoughts to you
- Upon White Mountain is the snow of years gone by piling up again? The sleeve I spread alone at midnight has turned so bitterly cold
- On Mount Otowa the white snow shows so clearly that the cock mistakes it, crying out that dawn has come— ah, the voice of the bird!
- In the mountain village is the path now lost to sight? For together with the scattered crimson leaves the snow has fallen there