今日来れどあやめも知らぬ袂かな
昔を恋ふるねのみかかりて
昔を恋ふるねのみかかりて
- Roma-ji
-
Kyō kuredo ayame mo shiranu tamoto kana mukashi o kouru ne nomi kakarite
- English Translation
-
Though today has come,
my sleeves know no iris,
no sense of order—
for longing for the past,
only my weeping hangs there.
- Meaning
- Today has come, yet my sleeves know neither the iris nor any sense of order—for what hangs upon them is not the iris root but only the sound of my weeping for the past.
- Commentary
-
Book Eight Lament Poems 770
Headnote: "Sent to someone on the fifth day of the fifth month, at a time when I was in grief."
This is the third poem of the sequence remembering the dead through the things of summer. It says that though the fifth day of the fifth month has come, only the sound of weeping for the past hangs upon her sleeves, and she cannot tell the iris or anything else apart. According to the headnote, it was sent to someone on the fifth day of the fifth month at a time of grief.
The author was a lady-in-waiting of the late Heian period, a daughter of Minamoto no Akinaka, Chief of the Office of Deities, and served Taikenmon'in and later Jōsaimon'in.
The scene is the Boys' Festival on the fifth day of the fifth month, and the place is not recorded.
The direct occasion is sending a poem to someone on the fifth day of the fifth month during a time of grief.
At the festival of the fifth day of the fifth month, iris was laid on the eaves to ward off evil, herbal balls were hung, and people also held root contests comparing the length of iris roots.
The first line, "kyō kuredo," means "though today has come," the fifth day of the fifth month. "Do" is concessive, setting a heavy heart against the gaiety of the festival.
In the second line, "ayame mo shiranu," "ayame" is a pivot word meaning both the iris of the festival and "ayame," pattern or discernment. It comes to mean being so lost in tears that one cannot tell one thing from another.
In the third line, "tamoto kana," "kana" is exclamatory, and the poem pauses after the third line. It shows that the sleeves on which iris should hang are wet with tears.
The fourth line, "mukashi o kouru," means "longing for the past that is gone." The next poem, 771, uses the same phrase, "mukashi o kouru."
In the last line, "ne nomi kakarite," "ne" is a pivot word meaning both the "root" of the iris and the "sound" of weeping. Drawing on the festival custom of hanging iris roots on the sleeves, it says that what hangs there is not roots but only the sound of weeping. Through inversion, the reason for "tamoto kana" in the third line is placed at the end. Following the preceding poem's lament for the child who planted the iris, this poem draws the festival iris itself into the language of grief, leading into the exchange of the next poems, 771 and 772.
- Author
- Jōsaimon'in no Hyōe
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- As a keepsake I gaze, and grief grows deeper— peony, deep-grief flower, why must your radiance only make the sorrow worse?
- This iris plant— for whom to remember by was it set in earth, before vanishing like dew beneath the mugwort's roots?
- The iris is pulled— but on these sleeves, pulled and changed from all they once were, longing for the past, the sound of weeping hangs.
- Yes, it must be so— our sleeves are of the same hue; and the unchanging root, the sound of weeping, too, we have hung upon them both.