One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each Read online

  Sei Shonagon (965?–1025?) was the daughter of Moyosuke (poem 42) and great-granddaughter of Fukayabu (poem 36), both famous poets. She was a lady-in-waiting to Empress Teishi (977–1001). Author of the celebrated Makura no sōshi, she is considered, with Murasaki Shikibu (poem 57) and Izumi Shikibu (poem 56), one of the greatest of the many outstanding women writers of the Heian period. She has fifteen poems in the official waka anthologies and a private poetry collection. She is one of both the Thirty-Six Poetic Geniuses of the Late Classical Period and the Thirty-Six Women Poetic Geniuses; indeed, it was thought at one time that she could be a possible model for Ono no Komachi (poem 9).

  63

  The background to poem 63 resembles an episode of a soap opera. Speaking directly to a high-ranking lady was a rare privilege in a society in which even exchanges of letters were usually conducted through intermediaries. Here the poet demands to see his beloved, even if only to tell her that they can never meet again. The two lovers are Fujiwara no Michimasa, a nobleman, and Masako (or Toshi, 1001–22), a daughter of Emperor Sanjo (r. 1011–16), who served as Priestess of the Ise Shrine. Because of Michimasa’s reputation as a gallant, Sanjo was opposed to the liaison and forbade Masako from seeing him. As a result, Masako became a nun and died prematurely and Michimasa’s wife left him and married another man.

  In his Hachidaishō (Selection from the First Eight Waka Anthologies; 1215–16), Teika places the poem next to one by Narihira (see also poem 17) about his ill-fated encounter with the Priestess of Ise, showing that he understood and appreciated the tragic nature of the liaison that had spawned both poems. The late-Heian critic Fujiwara no Kiyosuke (poem 84), though he did not consider Michimasa to be an exceptional poet, none the less says of this poem: ‘When the words perfectly express the thought, naturally a superior poem will result. This is no doubt what is meant by the words “when there is an emotion inside, it will find expression in words” ’ (Fukuro zōshi (Classic of Poetry); 1156–9?).

  Fujiwara no Michimasa (992–1054), the son of Minister Korechika, was Master of what is now called West Kyoto (Sakyo no Taifu) until he was removed from power by Michinaga, because of his affair with Princess Masako. From 1016, he led the life of a dilettante recluse. Seven poems of his appear in the imperial waka anthologies.

  64

  Poem 64 describes the Uji River, which runs through an area south of Kyoto where many Heian aristocratic families kept villas and which, as a famous poetic location (see utamakura), provides the setting of the famous final chapters of The Tale of Genji. The scene is first painted in broad strokes, which then closes in on the fishing nets. The time of the year is winter (indicated by the fishing nets, which were only used in that season) and one can imagine the poet gazing out on the river through the cold mist at dawn.

  The poem has been praised for its vivid, straightforward description of the scene, which is completely without human presence. The sound a – Asaborake, araware, ajirogi – is repeated throughout, giving the poem an airy, liquid quality that perfectly matches the scene being described.

  Fujiwara no Sadayori (995–1045) was the eldest son of Kinto (poem 55) and grandson of Emperor Murakami (r. 946–67) on his mother’s side. He served as Director for Military Affairs and then as Middle Counsellor. The dedicatee of Koshikibu’s poem (no. 60), he was renowned as a poet and calligrapher, with forty-five poems in imperial waka anthologies and a private poetry collection. One of the Thirty-Six Poetic Geniuses of the Late Classical Period.

  65

  Wet sleeves are ubiquitous in classical poetry (see also poem 1), but sleeves so wet as to begin to rot are understandably less common. Poem 65 was composed in 1051 for the ‘Palace Iris Root Contest of the Fifth Day of the Fifth Month’ – so called this because it was held on the same day as a festival for boys, in which iris roots featured. The poem was pitched against the following poem by Minamoto no Takatoshi:

  How I would let you know

  of these flames of grief

  raging beneath,

  as a reward for praying

  to the Fire-Burning God?

  (Shita moyuru / nageki o dani mo / shirasebaya / taku hi no kami no / shirushi bakari mo)

  Sagami (b. c.1000) is said to be a daughter of Minamoto no Yorimitsu (aka Raiko, 948–1021). The name derives from her husband, Oe no Kin’yori, who was Governor of Sagami (present-day Kanagawa) for some years. She participated in many poetry competitions and established a reputation as a fine poet. Sagami has 110 poems in the imperial waka anthologies and a private poetry collection. She is one of both the Thirty-Six Poetic Geniuses of the Late Classical Period and the Thirty-Six Women Poetic Geniuses.

  66

  The headnote (kotobagaki) to poem 66 as it appears in the Kin’yōshū (no. 512) states that it was composed on Mount Omine (a well-known poetic location – see utamakura), ‘on suddenly seeing a cherry in bloom’. The cherry tree is personified – as it often is in classical Japanese poetry – and asked to feel sympathy for the poet, who has no one else in the world. Gyoson lived for years in the mountains as a mountain hermit.

  The phrase aware to omoe, translated here as ‘let us console each other’, literally means to feel compassion for someone or something. The idea of feeling sympathy or pity for a person or thing (mono no aware) is an important theme in works of Japanese literature from the Heian period, from the Kokinshū to The Tale of Genji. Although often associated with the Buddhist idea of impermanence, more generally it describes a basic human concern for the trials and misfortunes of others.

  Prelate Gyoson (1055–1135) was the son of Minamoto no Motohira and the grandson of Prince Atsuakira. He entered the Buddhist Onjoji Temple (aka Miidera) in Otsu (in modern-day Shiga Prefecture) and practised the Shugendo austerities of the Yamabushi mountain ascetics for many years, eventually becoming head priest of the Tendai sect (in 1123), and Grand Almoner of emperors Shirakawa (r. 1073–87) and Toba (r. 1107–23). Forty-eight of his poems are included in the imperial waka anthologies.

  67

  The fear of earning a reputation as a fickle person (adanaru hito) scared Heian court women at least as much as the fear of being cast off by a lover, but here the point is made in jest. The circumstances that gave rise to poem 67 are described in the headnote (kotobagaki) to it in the Senzaishū (no. 961): ‘On a night of red moon in the Second Month when a number of people had gathered at the Nijo-in to spend the night in conversation, Suo no Naishi lay down and whispered that she wished she had a pillow. Major Counsellor Tadaie heard her, and pressed his arm under the bamboo blind urging her to use it as a pillow.’ The word temakura (literally, ‘arm pillow’) is the arm that a lover lays for his partner to rest her head upon. One impressive feature of the poem is how, in so few words, the poet can successfully conjure up the world of Heian-period romance tales. ‘Spring’, ‘night’, ‘dream’ and ‘pillow’ call to mind young lovers, furtive visits and nights too brief to satisfy the lovers’ longing. The phrase Haru no yo no / yume (a spring night’s dream) is a classical trope for something fleeting and short-lived, incorporating elements of the yōen style (see the Introduction, here).

  Suo no Naishi (d. c.1110), given name Nakako, daughter of Taira no Munenaka, Governor of Suo Province, was a handmaid in the inner service (naishi) of four emperors, from Emperor Go-Reizei (r. 1045–68) to Emperor Horikawa (r. 1087–1107). She took religious vows in 1108 and died shortly afterwards. Thirty-five of her poems appear in the imperial waka anthologies and she has a private poetry collection.

  68

  Thoughts of leaving the world behind, whether metaphorically or literally, are common in poems from the early eleventh century. The poet here is Retired Emperor Sanjo, and he composed this poem when he was ill and thinking about his abdication. There is a gentle and quiet desperation to poem 68. Rather than bringing comfort, the beauty of the moon only seems to make the sense of dejection more tangible and profound. Sanjo suffered from an eye condition that made him progressively blind. Several misfortunes dotted
his reign (the palace burned down twice in two years), and he also suffered from a troubled relationship with the regent, Fujiwara no Michinaga, who eventually forced him to abdicate in favour of his grandson Atsuhira (the future emperor Go-Ichijo, r. 1016–36). There must often have been times when life seemed too much to bear, or when the pain was so acute that dying seemed a better option. Even at such times, however, there is still room in the sovereign’s heart to be moved by the beauty of nature.

  Retired Emperor Sanjo (976–1017; r. 1011–16), sixty-seventh emperor, was the son of Emperor Reizei (r. 967–9). He became crown prince in 986, but had to wait decades to ascend, only to be forced to abdicate shortly after his enthronement. He was a grandson through his mother of Fujiwara no Kaneie (see commentary to poem 53). Eight of his poems appear in the imperial waka anthologies.

  69

  Poem 69 deftly mixes convention (famous locations, the confusion between maple leaves and brocade) and novel elements to produce a delightful synthesis. Mount Mimuro and the Tatsuta River are both famous poetic locations (see utamakura) near the city of Nara in what was once Yamato Province. The Tatsuta River was especially famous as a place for viewing the richly coloured maples in autumn. What makes these traditional elements fresh, however, is the sense of movement within the poem: a mountain gives way to a river, the fury of the storm is followed by the stillness of brocade, all in the space of thirty-one syllables. The poem was composed for a palace poetry contest in 1049 and the gorgeousness of the scenery it evokes perhaps helped it to become the winning poem.

  Priest Noin (988–1051?), lay name Tachibana no Nagayasu. After graduating from the imperial university, he entered religion at the age of twenty-five. Noin began his religious life as a peregrinating poet and ascetic and finally settled in Settsu at Kosobe. He is said to have visited many famous sites with poetic associations and is the author of a famous treatise related to this, the Nōin utamakura, from the mid Heian period. Sixty-five poems of his appear in the official waka anthologies and he has a private poetry collection. He is one of the Thirty-Six Poetic Geniuses of the Late Classical Period.

  70

  According to the standard periodization, the Japanese Middle Ages (chūsei) started later than in Europe, at the end of the twelfth century. But poem 70, which dates to the first half of the eleventh century, reflects a decidedly medieval sensibility. Whereas earlier poets expressed in verse the beauty they saw around them, medieval poets sought to create beauty in and through their poetry. In the world of Japanese poetry, autumn is traditionally the season of loneliness and dusk is the most melancholic time of the day, so when one feels listless on the inside, outside it cannot but be an autumn dusk.

  Teika’s father Shunzei (poem 83) wrote at the beginning of his Korai fūteishō (A Treatise on Poetic Styles Through the Ages; 1197–1201): ‘If there were no such thing as poetry, people would not understand what scent and colour are, and there would be no way to express the depth of our hearts.’ In other words, it is poetry that shapes our perceptions, and gives us a repertoire of images and words to rely on in expressing them.

  Priest Ryozen (fl. mid eleventh century) was a Tendai monk who became Abbot of Gion Monastery. He lived as a hermit at Ohara and, at the end of his life, at the Unrin’in Temple. Thirty-one of his poems appear in the imperial waka anthologies.

  71

  Though composed on a set topic (dai) at a poetry gathering (the topic was ‘the autumn wind at a house in the fields’), poem 71 reads very much like a sketch from life. Auditory cues and visual imagery are combined to produce a remarkably vivid description of the autumnal landscape. There is also a temporal dimension to the poem, as the wind first blows through the rice fields and then reaches the reed hut. In the original poem, the presence of the poet in the scene is not obvious, but I have made it more so in the translation (‘my reed hut’) because placing the speaking voice in the scene creates a more immediate poem in English.

  Minamoto no Tsunenobu (1016–97), a renowned poet and musician, was the father of Toshiyori (poem 74). At nearly eighty years of age, he was appointed Governor of Dazaifu, tantamount at the time to banishment. He died there two years later, far from home. Eighty-six of his poems appear in the imperial waka anthologies and he has a private poetry collection. He is one of the Thirty-Six Poetic Geniuses of the Late Classical Period.

  72

  Both powerful and witty, poem 72 was originally composed as a reply to this poem by Teika’s grandfather, Fujiwara no Toshitada (1073–1123), in the Kin’yōshū (no. 468):

  Oh, that I could let you know

  that my heart is like

  the waves of Ariso Bay

  pounding on the shore at night

  driven by the winds of secret longing.

  (Hito shirenu / omoi Ariso no / urakaze ni / nami no yoru koso / iwamahoshikere)

  In her reply, the poet retorts that an affair with such a fickle man would no doubt cause her much suffering, hence it is not so much the waves as tears that will make her sleeves wet.

  Both poems were composed at a love-letter competition in 1102, when the author of poem 72 was around seventy and Toshitada twenty-nine. Rather than an exchange of actual love letters (zōtōka), therefore, the poems would have been an exercise in the conventions of poetic love for the purpose of the competition.

  The ‘poem pillow’ (utamakura) ‘Takashi shore’ refers to a beautiful beach on Osaka Bay. The word Takashi puns on the adjective ‘high’, indicating the height of the waves. Paired with oto (reputation), it means ‘famous’. The Takashi shore was not famous for anything in particular, but the name was appealing linguistically because it could be used to form various puns.

  Lady Kii (fl. mid eleventh century) was a lady-in-waiting to Empress Genshi, consort of Emperor Go-Suzaku (r. 1036–45), then to his eldest daughter, Princess Yushi. Thirty-one poems by her appear in the imperial waka anthologies. Her poems are collected in the Ichinomiya no Kii-shū.

  73

  Poem 73 superimposes the mist on the nearby hills and the far-away cherry trees on the high mountain to achieve a kind of pictorial depth. Parallelism (a staple of Chinese-language poetry or kanshi) features prominently (the cherries and the mist, the mountain peak and the foothills), while the big caesura at the end of line 3 (saki ni keri in the original) emphasizes the division of the poem into two distinct but complementary units. The sentiment expressed is a fairly familiar one. The poet hopes the mist will not rise, as it would obstruct the magnificent view. We know from the headnote (kotobagaki) to the poem in the Goshūishū (no. 120) that it was composed at a gathering held at the house of Inner Minister Moromichi, so the reference to the glory of the cherries in bloom on the peaks of Takasago was probably intended as a homage to the host. The meaning of Takasago is ‘sand hills piled high’, though the actual location is not clear here, unlike in poem 34.

  Oe no Masafusa (1041–1111), known by his title of Acting Middle Counsellor, was from a famous lettered family and a child prodigy in Chinese studies. A favourite and confidant of Retired Emperor Horikawa (r. 1087–1107), he was also a brilliant administrator. He served as Governor of Dazaifu (modern-day Kyushu), following in the footsteps of the revered Sugawara no Michizane (poem 24), and rose to be Director of the Treasury but died soon after this appointment. Masafusa left an important body of work in Chinese and in Japanese; 119 of his poems appear in the imperial waka anthologies. His poems are collected in the Gō no sochi shū.

  74

  It is hard to replicate in translation the deliberately inarticulate pathos of poem 74. Whereas earlier poets aspired to a perfect balance between heart and expression, poets from the late Heian period onwards frequently sacrificed balance for complexity and depth. Lovers frequently visited the Hase Temple (known then as Hatsuse Temple and often featuring as a poetic location or utamakura), on Mount Hatsuse in present-day Nara Prefecture, to pray to the Bodhisattva of Compassion, Kannon, and that is the background to this poem. Roughly paraphrased, the poem says that the p
oet has prayed at the temple of the Bodhisattva Kannon (‘the Goddess of Mercy’) for his lover to become less cruel, and that his prayers have gone unanswered. Much of this, however, is left unsaid in the poem, which, literally translated, reads something like this:

  In vain did I pray to Hatsuse (Kannon)

  but this cruel woman

  rages like its mountain gusts.

  Teika, who was an admirer of Toshiyori, wrote of this poem in the Kindai shūka (Superior Poems of Our Time; 1209): ‘The heart is profound and the words just flow from the heart; it is hard to compose a poem like this even if one tries to imitate it. The form of the poem is truly hard to match.’

  Minamoto no Toshiyori (1055–1129) was the son of Tsunenobu (poem 71). He is considered the best poet in the entourage of that renowned connoisseur of poetry, Emperor Horikawa (r. 1087–1107). The compiler of the Kin’yōshū and the author of an important poetry treatise, the Toshiyori zuinō (Toshiyori’s Poetic Essentials; 1113), he engaged in a famous polemic with Mototoshi (poem 75) about ‘the new mode’ of writing poetry. He has 210 poems in the imperial waka anthologies and his poems are collected in the Sanbokuki kashū.