- Top
- -
- Heike Monogatari
Bright as the dawn moon over the Akashi shore, and in the sea wind only the waves seemed to come drawing near, like night itself
The dawn moon left the Akashi shore bright, and in that sea wind the only thing that seemed like night was the waves drawing near.
Since it is a moon that came leaking down to me from the palace sky, I do not intend to speak lightly of where it has been
Since it is a moon that came leaking down from the clouded palace sky, I do not mean to say lightly where it came from.
The sprouting grasses and the withering grasses share one open field— which of them can hope to end without the coming of fall
The grass that puts out new shoots and the grass that withers away are grasses of the same field. Which of them could ever reach its end without meeting the autumn?
Unable to sink beneath the sorrow, river bamboo by the shore— must I let flow through the world a name without precedent
Unable to sink under the weight of this grief, I stand like the bamboo at the river's edge—must I let my name drift through the world as something for which there is no precedent?
Could I have foreseen that in this wretched body I would come around to look once more on the moon of these same cloud-dwelling halls
I never thought that, wretched as I am, I would come round again to look upon the same moon above these cloud-dwelling halls.
O blossoms, do not hold a grudge against the wind from the Kamo stream— even it could not hold back the falling of your petals
Cherry blossoms, bear no grudge against the river wind of Kamo. Not even that wind had the power to keep you from falling.
Among the deep hills it could not be told apart, not one branch from all— yet the cherry has revealed itself now, by its blossoms
Deep in the mountains it stood indistinguishable, no branch of it to be told from any other; and now, by its blossoms, the cherry has shown itself for what it is.
Michinoku's pine of Akoya hides it well— the moon that ought to come rising above the boughs will not show itself at all
Hidden behind the Akoya pine of Michinoku, the moon that ought to rise will not show itself at all.
This wooded mountain I have prayed upon so long— must it now reverse and come at last to be a peak where no one dwells at all
Must this mountain where I have prayed so long now turn about and end as a peak with no one living on it?
So at last I have turned my back upon the world and left it behind— that I did not cast it off sooner is what I regret
So in the end I have turned from the world altogether. What I regret is not having cast it off sooner.
Since your prayers to the gods have been so many and so unceasing, why should you not return again to the capital you left
Since your prayers to the gods have been so many and so unceasing, how should you not return to the capital?
That on a small isle out in the Satsuma sea I am still alive— tell my parents, carry it, wind across the eightfold tides
That I am still alive on a small island out in the Satsuma sea—carry word of it to my parents, wind across the eightfold tides.
Think of it: even on a journey one believes will be brief, still one longs for the home left behind— think then what this must be like
Consider it: even on a journey one expects to be short, one still longs for home.
If this were a world where the blossoms of my home could speak and answer, how much I would ask of them about the days that are gone
If this were a world in which the blossoms of my old home could speak, how much I would ask them about the days that are gone.
Moss has overgrown the gaps between the boards of my old home's eaves, and the moon comes leaking through them less than I had thought it would
Moss has grown over the gaps in the eaves of my old home, and less moonlight leaks through than I had imagined it would.
To these threads of white that come falling from the sky of the cloud-dwelling halls—that I may bind myself to them is a joy indeed
That I may bind myself to these white threads of water falling from the clouds—this is a joy indeed.