山風は吹けど吹かねど白浪の
寄する岩根は久しかりけり
寄する岩根は久しかりけり
- Roma-ji
-
Yamakaze wa fukedo fukanedo shiranami no yosuru iwane wa hisashikari keri
- English Translation
-
The mountain wind,
whether it blows or blows not,
where the white waves come
breaking upon the rock's roots—
how long they have endured.
- Meaning
- Whether the mountain wind blows or does not blow, the rocks rooted where the white waves break remain, enduring through the ages.
- Commentary
-
Book Seven Felicitation Poems 721
Headnote: "Topic unknown."
This poem celebrates through the endurance of rocks. Whether the mountain wind blows or not, the rocks where the white waves break remain unchanged forever. The headnote gives no topic, and the circumstances of composition are not recorded.
The author was a daughter of Fujiwara no Tsugukage, Governor of Ise, and served Fujiwara no Onshi, consort of Emperor Uda. She is one of the Thirty-Six Poetic Immortals.
The scene has no season specified, and the place is a shore with rocks where white waves break.
The direct occasion is not recorded.
The first line, "yamakaze wa," means "the wind blowing down from the mountains." Taking up "white clouds upon the peak" of the preceding poem, 720, the mountain scene continues.
The second line, "fukedo fukanedo," means "whether it blows or does not blow." Setting "blow" beside its negation with "do," it shows that the matter does not depend on the wind.
The third line, "shiranami no," means "of the white waves," leading on to "yosuru," breaking, in the next line.
The fourth line, "yosuru iwane wa," means "the roots of the rocks where waves break." Rocks that do not move though struck by wind and wave are presented.
In the last line, "hisashikari keri," the exclamatory "keri" expresses the wonder of realizing their endurance. Contrasting the wind that rises and falls and the waves that come and go with the immovable rocks, the poem entrusts felicitation to what does not change.
- Author
- Ise
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- The mountain dweller plucks them, fragrant on his sleeve, chrysanthemum dew— even while he brushes it off, a thousand years must pass by.
- In the Godless Month, on the evergreen that knows no crimson leaves at all, for ten thousand ages hang, O white clouds upon the peak.
- Without any cloud, on the water's face, clear and dwelling a thousand years, the moon that lodges there— its light, too, is calm and still.
- The water of the pond, through the ages, for so long has dwelt and grown clear, that the jewel weeds on its floor are seen to glimmer with light.