誰となき宿の夕べを契りにて
変はる主を幾夜問ふらん
変はる主を幾夜問ふらん
- Roma-ji
-
Tare to naki yado no yūbe o chigiri nite kawaru aruji o ikuyo touran
- English Translation
-
With no one certain,
an evening at an inn
is my only pledge;
how many nights will I call
on a host who always changes?
- Meaning
- Making a pledge of an evening at an inn with no one in particular, how many nights will I go on calling on hosts who change each time?
- Commentary
-
Book Ten Travel Poems 963
Headnote: "Composed as a travel poem."
This is the fourteenth of a sequence of poems on the road at nightfall and lodging for the night. Relying on an evening at an inn with no one in particular, the speaker wonders how many nights he will call on hosts who change each time, a journey that goes on from inn to inn. According to the headnote, it was composed as a travel poem.
The author, Fujiwara no Narikiyo, was a poet of the early Kamakura period whose dates are not certain.
The scene is an evening on a journey, on the road seeking lodging.
The direct occasion is composing on the topic of "travel."
The first line, "tare to naki," means "with no one in particular." It shows that the inn is one met by chance.
The second line, "yado no yūbe o," means "the evening at an inn." Following "koyoi wa yado o" in 952, a journey seeking lodging at evening is sung of again.
The third line, "chigiri nite," means "as a pledge." The "chigiri" that in 938 and 940 is a promise with someone at home or with the moon is here a frail pledge with an unknown inn.
The fourth line, "kawaru aruji o," means "hosts who change each night." It shows a journey advancing from inn to inn.
The last line, "ikuyo touran," means "how many nights will I call?" Where 961 sings of sleeping on the road for "hitoyo bakari," a single night, this poem sings of a journey that goes on for many nights from inn to inn, the two forming a pair on the scales of one night and many.
- Author
- Fujiwara no Narikiyo
- Source
- Shin Kokin Wakashu
- Other
-
- Lying, I cannot sleep on this pillow made of grass, of cut bamboo leaves; how fleeting is the dew on just a single night.
- On a bed of rock, the storm wind spread in the place of a single sleeve, must I sleep alone tonight at Sayo-no-Nakayama?
- As my pillow now, with which of these grasses might I make my pledge? Going on as far as I can, evening on the moor.
- By the roadside here, where the grasses are green, I rein in my horse and still, even now, look back toward the home I left behind.