春霞かすみし空の名残さへ
今日を限りの別れなりけり
今日を限りの別れなりけり
- Roma-ji
-
Harugasumi kasumishi sora no nagori sae kyō o kagiri no wakare narikeri
- English Translation
-
The spring haze that hung
over the sky—even the trace
it has left behind
is a parting, I find,
with today as its last.
- Meaning
- Even the lingering trace of the sky where the spring haze hung is a parting, it seems, with today, the last day of spring, as its end.
- Commentary
-
Book Eight Lament Poems 766
Headnote: "Sent at the end of spring, when Lord Teika was in mourning for his mother."
This is the eighth poem of the sequence on partings by death in spring. It says that even the lingering trace of the sky where the spring haze hung is now parting from us, with today, the end of spring, as its last. According to the headnote, it was sent at the end of spring while Lord Teika was in mourning for his mother.
The son of Kujō Kanezane, the author rose to Regent and Chancellor and wrote the kana preface of the Shin Kokin Wakashū. "Lord Teika" is Fujiwara no Teika, son of Fujiwara no Shunzei; his mother, Bifukumon'in no Kaga, died in the second month of Kenkyū 4 (1193).
The scene is the end of spring in Kenkyū 4 (1193), set in the capital.
The direct occasion is a message of condolence to Lord Teika in mourning for his mother.
The first line, "harugasumi," is the haze that rises in spring. As seen in 758 of this book, haze is sung as that into which the smoke sending off the dead dissolves.
The second line, "kasumishi sora no," means "of the sky where the haze hung." It repeats "kasumi" of the first line in the verb "kasumu," impressing the spring sky strongly on the mind. "Shi" is a past auxiliary, looking back on the spring sky that passed after his mother's death.
In the third line, "nagori sae," "nagori" is the lingering presence left after something has gone. "Sae" is additive, meaning "even the trace of that sky," in addition to the parting from his mother.
The fourth line, "kyō o kagiri no," means "with today as the last." It says that spring ends with today, the close of the season.
In the last line, "wakare narikeri," "keri" is exclamatory. It is the grief of realizing that, after the spring in which he parted from his mother, he must now part even from that spring's lingering trace. Laying two partings together, the poem sends off a whole season spent in mourning. In the next poem, 767, haze hides the smoke of the funeral, carrying on the pairing of haze and smoke.
- Author
- Fujiwara no Yoshitsune
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
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- Everyone, all of them, to the capital of flowers have scattered away— alone, I weep with the showers in this autumn mountain village.
- Having seen blossoms, all the less I hurry home along the homeward road— for no one is there whom I think would be waiting for my return.
- The rising smoke, at least that much I should see, and yet it is lost, mingling with the haze of the dawn in spring.
- As a keepsake I gaze, and grief grows deeper— peony, deep-grief flower, why must your radiance only make the sorrow worse?