しなが鳥猪名野を行けば有馬山
夕霧立ちぬ宿はなくして
夕霧立ちぬ宿はなくして
- Roma-ji
-
Shinagadori ina no o yukeba arimayama yūgiri tachinu yado wa nakushite
- English Translation
-
As I cross the plain
of Ina, where the long birds fly,
over Mount Arima
the evening mists have risen,
and there is no inn for me.
- Meaning
- As I cross the plain of Ina, the evening mist has risen over Mount Arima, and there is no inn to shelter me.
- Commentary
-
Book Ten Travel Poems 910
Headnote continued from the preceding poem: "Topic unknown."
This is the first of a sequence of poems on lodging for the night on a journey. Crossing the plain of Ina, the speaker sees evening mist rising over Mount Arima and has no inn for the night, the anxiety of a traveler on the plain at dusk. The headnote gives no topic, and the circumstances of composition are not recorded.
The author is given as "anonymous," and the name is not known.
The scene is dusk on a journey, on the plain of Ina in Settsu Province.
The direct occasion is not recorded.
The poem is included in Book Seven of the Man'yōshū as a poem by an unknown author composed in Settsu.
The first line, "shinagadori," is a pillow word for Ina.
The second line, "ina no o yukeba," means "as I cross the plain of Ina." Inano is the plain along the Ina River in Settsu, a famous place often paired with Mount Arima. The realis form with "ba" turns to the scene met along the way.
The third line, "arimayama," is a mountain in Settsu seen from the plain of Ina. The place name stands alone as a noun and leads into the scene of evening mist.
The fourth line, "yūgiri tachinu," means "the evening mist has risen." The perfective "nu" closes the line, and the poem breaks here, showing the plain as night falls.
The last line, "yado wa nakushite," means "with no inn to stay in." By inversion the traveler's unease comes last. Where 905 finds a house where cloth is being beaten and asks "yado ya karamashi," here there is no inn to borrow, reversing the presence and absence of shelter.
- Author
- Unknown Poet
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- 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.
- Where the divine winds blow, breaking down the beach reeds of Ise to lay them for a bed, is he sleeping on his journey out upon that rough seashore?
- Those from my old home who came into my dreams sleeping on the road— might they bear a grudge toward me, since I have not written again?