Matsu hito no fumoto no michi wa taenuran nokiba no sugi ni yuki omoru nari

English Translation

The path from below
by which the one I wait for comes
must now be closed;
on the cedar by my eaves
the snow grows heavy

Meaning

The path up from the foot of the mountain, by which the one I wait for would come, must be closed by now—for the snow is weighing heavy on the cedar by my eaves.

Commentary

Book Six Winter Poems 672

Headnote: "When the Regent and Chancellor, while he was Major Counselor, had poems composed on 'Snow at a Mountain Dwelling.'"
This is the sixteenth poem of the snow sequence. Sensing snow grow heavy on the cedar by the eaves, the speaker thinks that the path from the foot of the mountain, by which the awaited one would come, must be closed by now. According to the headnote, it was composed when Fujiwara no Yoshitsune, while still Major Counselor, had poets compose on the topic "Snow at a Mountain Dwelling."
The author is not named in the original and continues from the preceding poem as Fujiwara no Teika. A son of Fujiwara no Shunzei, he was one of the compilers of the Shin Kokin Wakashū and later compiled the Shin Chokusen Wakashū.
The scene is winter as the snow falls, and the place is a mountain dwelling where a cedar stands.
The direct occasion is the topic "Snow at a Mountain Dwelling," set by Fujiwara no Yoshitsune when he was Major Counselor.

The first line, "matsu hito no," means "of the one I wait for."
The second line, "fumoto no michi wa," means "the path that comes up from the foot of the mountain."
The third line, "taenuran," means "must be cut off by now," with "nu" as a perfective auxiliary and "ran" as an auxiliary of present conjecture. The poem breaks after the third line, in inverted relation to the lower verse.
The fourth line, "nokiba no sugi ni," means "on the cedar standing by my eaves."
The last line, "yuki omoru nari," means "the snow must be growing heavy," with "nari" as an inferential auxiliary. From the sense of the cedar boughs bending, the speaker knows the weight of the snow, infers from it the depth of snow on the unseen path below, and knows that the awaited one cannot come. From the traveler moving through the snow in the preceding poem, the poem moves to a mountain dwelling where someone waits in the snow, and it connects with the heart waiting for a visitor in a deep mountain village in 663 of this book. The next poem, 673, likewise sings of paths cut off by snow.

Author

Fujiwara no Teika

Source

Shin Kokin Wakashu

Other