松が根に尾花刈り敷き夜もすがら
片敷く袖に雪は降りつつ
片敷く袖に雪は降りつつ
- Roma-ji
-
Matsu ga ne ni obana karishiki yomosugara katashiku sode ni yuki wa furitsutsu
- English Translation
-
Beneath the pine roots
I cut pampas plumes to spread,
and all through the night
on the one sleeve that I lay,
the snow keeps on falling down.
- Meaning
- Beneath the roots of a pine I cut pampas plumes to make a bed, and all night long the snow keeps falling on the single sleeve I have spread to sleep alone.
- Commentary
-
Book Ten Travel Poems 929
Headnote: "Composed on the topic 'Snow at a lodging on a journey.'"
This is the second of a sequence of poems on snow on a journey. Having cut pampas plumes for a bed at the roots of a pine, the speaker lies all night as snow keeps falling on the one sleeve he has spread, a snowy night in the open. According to the headnote, it was composed on the topic "Snow at a lodging on a journey."
The author, "Master of Palace Repairs Akisue," is Fujiwara no Akisue. A noble of the late Heian period, he served close to Retired Emperor Shirakawa and was Master of Palace Repairs. He was the founder of the Rokujō Fujiwara house of poetry.
The scene is a winter night of falling snow, on a bed in the open at the roots of a pine.
The direct occasion is composing on the topic "Snow at a lodging on a journey."
The first line, "matsu ga ne ni," means "at the roots of a pine." It shows the place of sleeping in the open with no lodging.
The second line, "obana karishiki," means "cutting pampas plumes and spreading them." As with "hamaogi orifusete" in 911, it sings of a traveler's bed of spread grasses.
The third line, "yomosugara," means "all through the night." It conveys the length of the snowy night.
The fourth line, "katashiku sode ni," means "on the single sleeve spread to sleep alone." Like "koromo katashiki" in 922, it is an expression for sleeping alone.
The last line, "yuki wa furitsutsu," means "the snow keeps falling." Like "yuki tsumoritsutsu," the last line of the preceding poem, it ends with "tsutsu" to express continuation. Where the preceding poem sees the snow on a traveler's hat from the viewer's side, this poem sings of snow falling on the traveler's own sleeve, reversing the positions of the viewer and the traveler.
- Author
- Fujiwara no Akisue
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- Sleeping on my way, in a hut thatched with the reeds the cold is bitter, and the boats with brushwood cut are hurrying, I can hear.
- On the mountain road did he set out just this morning, that traveler there? His hat has turned snowy white as the snow keeps piling on.
- Those I used to see send no word, and the sea wind of Tofu is still, yet so coldly shining clear is the moon of this autumn night.
- Pillowed on the grass, how much time has passed me by since I left the capital? How many nights have I slept beneath the moon of my journey?