東路のさやの中山さやかにも
見えぬ雲居に世をや尽くさん
見えぬ雲居に世をや尽くさん
- Roma-ji
-
Azumaji no saya no nakayama sayaka ni mo mienu kumoi ni yo o ya tsukusan
- English Translation
-
On the eastern road,
at Saya-no-Nakayama,
not clearly at all
can I see the cloud-veiled distance—
shall I end my days out there?
- Meaning
- Like the name of Saya-no-Nakayama on the eastern road, nothing is clear ("sayaka") in the cloud-veiled distance; shall I live out my days somewhere out there?
- Commentary
-
Book Ten Travel Poems 907
Headnote continued from the preceding poem: "Topic unknown."
This is the third of a sequence of travel poems by poets of the Heian period. Echoing the name of Saya-no-Nakayama on the eastern road, the speaker wonders whether he will end his days in a far place beyond the clouds that cannot be clearly seen, thinking of the future of one bound for distant lands. The headnote gives no topic, and the circumstances of composition are not recorded.
The author, "Mibu no Tadamine," written here with a variant character, is Mibu no Tadamine. He was a poet of the early Heian period and one of the compilers of the Kokin Wakashū.
The scene is a journey toward the eastern provinces, at Saya-no-Nakayama in Tōtōmi Province.
The direct occasion is not recorded.
The first line, "azumaji no," means "of the road from the capital to the East."
The second line, "saya no nakayama," is a pass in Tōtōmi Province, a famous place known as a hard stretch of the Tōkaidō. Up to here the lines form a preface leading by sound to "sayaka."
The third line, "sayaka ni mo," means "clearly." Taking up the sound of "saya," it turns from place name to feeling.
The fourth line, "mienu kumoi ni," means "in the cloud-veiled distance not seen clearly." "Kumoi" is a far place where clouds lie, pointing to a destination that cannot be foreseen.
The last line, "yo o ya tsukusan," means "shall I end my days?" The particle "ya" is answered by the conjectural "n" in the attributive form. Where the preceding poem speaks of a single day's crossing with "kyō ya koenan," this poem uses the same "ya" and conjectural closing to think of ending a whole life at the journey's end, treating the same anxiety of travel on the scale of years.
- Author
- Mibu no Tadamine
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- Pillowed on the grass, I feel the evening wind has turned cold at last; where I hear them beating cloth, should I ask there for lodging?
- Where the white clouds lie trailing far across the heights of the rugged hills, the plank bridge along the mountain— shall I cross it on this day?
- Should I, after all, hold resentment toward that one? O bird of the capital, for not even "Are you well?" do I ever hear them ask.
- Knowing nothing yet, the people of my homeland must, until today, still await me, who had promised I would come back by this day.