by Donald Keene
Dewdrops touch my face.
I wonder if it is not the spray
from the oars of a boat
crossing the straits
of the Milky Way.
With that, he returned to the land of the living.
60
Mandarin Blossom
Long ago, the man’s palace duties kept him so busy that he could pay little attention to his wife. Eventually, she went to live in a different province with another man, who promised that he would devote himself to her. Some time later, the former husband was sent to the Usa Shrine as an imperial envoy. On his way there, he learned that his wife had married one of the local functionaries who attended imperial envoys. He instructed him: ‘Have your wife serve the sake cup, or I will not have any.’ When his former wife did so, the envoy took a mandarin orange from among the delicacies that accompanied the sake and recited a poem.
The fragrance of mandarin
blossoming in summer
reminds me of the scented sleeves
of someone from the past
who was dear to me.
Memories of their life together flooded the woman’s heart; she became a nun and went to live in a temple in the mountains.
61
The Colour of Love
Long ago, when the man was on his way to Tsukushi, he overheard a woman remark from behind a screen, ‘Oh, there’s that famous lusty gallant!’ He responded with a poem:
Just like you,
are not all who cross
the River of Dyes
bound to be stained
by the colour of love?
The lady’s reply:
Just as the place called
‘Wanton Island’
is not true to its name,
so it’s unfair to say
I am fickle in love.
62
Bare Branches
Long ago, there was a woman whose husband had not visited her for some years. She can’t have been very clever for she trusted the words of an unreliable person and left her husband to work in someone’s service in the provinces. One day, she happened to be called upon to serve her former husband something to eat. He said to the master of the house, ‘When night comes, send me the woman who served me.’ So the master of the house sent her to him. The man asked her, ‘Didn’t you know it was me?’ He recited a poem.
What has become of the beauty
of your bygone days?
The cherry blossoms
have been stripped away,
leaving its branches bare.
The woman was so ashamed that she simply sat there, unable to reply. ‘Why do you not respond?’ the man asked, to which she answered, ‘I am blinded by tears. I cannot speak.’ The man recited another poem:
So this is how
it ended up!
How unkind the years
have been to you,
who fled from my love.
Then he removed his cloak and gave it to her, but she fled the house, leaving it behind. No one knows how she fared in the end.
63
Love at a Hundred
Long ago, a woman who was experienced in the ways of love thought, ‘If only I could meet a kind and sensitive man who would become my lover.’ She had no way to let others know of her desire, so she invented a dream that she had not really had and called together her three sons to tell them about it. Two of her sons curtly dismissed her story, and for them that was the end of it. But her youngest son divined the dream and predicted to his mother: ‘It means you will encounter a splendid man.’ His mother was delighted to hear the good news.
The third son mused to himself: ‘Most men are insensitive. If only I could arrange for my mother to meet the renowned Ariwara no Narihira.’ So one day the young man waylaid Narihira when he was out hawking. Taking hold of the horse’s bridle, he told him of his mother’s feelings. Narihira was so moved by the story that he went and spent the night with the boy’s mother. But he did not visit her again. Then the woman went to his house and was peering in at him when he caught a glimpse of her. His poem:
Just a year shy of a century,
this woman with hair
as white as it can be
appears as a phantom
seemingly in love with me.
When the woman saw him getting ready to come out of the house, she rushed home, catching herself on brambles and thorny shrubs on the way. When she arrived home, she lay down. Just as the woman had done to him, Narihira spied on her. Sighing, she recited a poem as she was preparing to go to bed.
Love at a Hundred
Spreading my robe for one
upon the narrow mat,
I wonder: tonight,
must I sleep again
without my love?
Moved by her plight, Narihira spent the night with the woman again.
As a rule, we show special affection only to those whom we truly love and show no sign of love to others. But Narihira made no such fine distinctions.
64
Becoming a Breeze
Long ago, the man could not arrange a secret tryst with a lady because he did not know where her quarters were. Wondering where on earth she could be, he had someone who knew her whereabouts deliver a poem to her.
If only I could
change myself into a breeze,
I would search for your chamber
and enter between the slats
of your beautiful blinds.
The lady replied:
Even if you were a breeze
that no one could hinder,
who would give you leave
to enter my chamber
through slats in the blinds?
65
The Young Love of Narihira
Long ago, there was a lady in service at the palace whom the emperor held in high esteem. A cousin of the Empress Mother, she had been granted permission to wear forbidden colours. A very young man from the Ariwara family was serving in the Privy Chamber of the palace at the time, and he began to visit this lady. He had permission to keep company with the ladies, and he went to their quarters and sat directly in front of the lady, for which she remonstrated with him: ‘This behaviour is most improper. It will destroy us if you keep on like this. You must stop it.’ The youth responded with a poem:
My endurance has lost out
to my love for you.
If we could meet for just a night,
I do not care one bit
what will become of me.
When the lady heard these words, she returned to her private quarters. As usual, the youth, oblivious to the stares of others, followed her to her quarters and lingered there. Deeply distressed, the lady then returned to her home. ‘What a great opportunity,’ thought the youth, and, much to everyone’s amusement, he started to see her there. Early the following morning, in full view of the palace servants of the Housekeeping Bureau, he threw his shoes deep inside the building before he entered the palace.
This unseemly state of affairs went on for some time, until at last the youth realized that his behaviour might ruin him, even at the cost of his life. So he prayed to the buddhas and the gods, ‘What am I to do? I beg you to rid me of this desperate love.’ Despite his prayers, his desire grew stronger still, until he could not bear his tortured longing. So he summoned the diviners and priestesses of the shrine and had them prepare the utensils for a purification ritual to release him from his obsession. As the ritual progressed, he felt a great sadness, and his longing surged more intensely than ever before. His poem:
Purge Me of My Love
Oh, dear. The gods rejected
these rites of purification
performed beside
the cleansing waters
to purge me of my love.
After the rites he returned home.
The emperor was splendid in both looks and figure. Listening to him chanting devoutly the Buddha’s name in his resonant voice moved the lady to bitter tears. She sobbed, ‘What cruel kar
ma, to be bound as I am to that youth and so unable to serve His Majesty with all my heart.’ Eventually the emperor got wind of the affair and banished the youth. His mother expelled the lady from the palace, locked her up in a storehouse and gave her a good scolding. The imprisoned lady wept:
It was indeed my own fault
I was caught like a skeleton shrimp
in seaweed gathered by fisherfolk.
So let me raise my voice and cry,
but blame no one but me.
The youth returned from his place of exile to visit the storehouse every night. He played the flute beautifully and sang in a refined and moving voice. The imprisoned lady knew that he was there, but there was no way for her to meet him. Her poem:
He has no idea that in here
I am hardly still alive.
How sad for me,
knowing he still thinks
we could meet again.
Those were her thoughts.
As the lady could not come to him, the youth roamed around, then returned to the distant province, singing:
Though all in vain
I come and go.
Longing for you,
I am drawn back
again and again.
This story dates from the reign of the Mizunoo Emperor. The Empress Mother is said to have been the Somedono Empress or, according to other accounts, the Empress of the Fifth Avenue.
66
The Sea of Life
Long ago, the man had an estate in the province of Settsu; once he went on an outing to Naniwa. He was accompanied by his older and younger brothers and some friends. Gazing out at the ships along the shore, he composed a poem.
This very morning
Naniwa Bay comes into view—
inlets dotted with ships
carrying us across
the sorrow-filled sea of life.
Deeply moved by the poem, everyone left for home.
67
Snow Blossom
Long ago in mid spring, the man took his close friends on an outing to the province of Izumi. On the way, in the province of Kawachi, they saw Mount Ikoma swathed in billowing clouds, which then cleared, rose and trailed along the sky, constantly changing. Though it was cloudy all morning, at midday the sky cleared, and pristine white snow lay upon the branches of the trees. They gazed upon the scene, but the man alone of his party recited a poem.
Yesterday, today
the billowing clouds
hid this sight from view,
not wishing to share with us
the woods in snow blossom.
68
The Place to Dwell
Long ago, the man went to the province of Izumi. As he headed for the Sumiyoshi beach, in Sumiyoshi village, in the county of Sumiyoshi, he was so moved by the scenery that he dismounted from his horse and sat down again and again to enjoy the lovely views. One of his party proposed: ‘Compose a poem with the phrase “the shore of Sumiyoshi” in it.’ The man’s poem:
In autumn wild geese cry
and chrysanthemums bloom,
but by the sea in spring
the shore of Sumiyoshi
is the place to dwell.
Hearing this, no one else in the party was inclined to compose a poem of his own.
Was It Real, or Just a Dream?
69
Was It Real, or Just a Dream?
Long ago, the man travelled to the province of Ise in his role as imperial huntsman. The mother of the Priestess of the Ise Shrine sent word to her daughter: ‘You must take better care of this man than you would of some ordinary envoy.’ Mindful of her mother’s request, the priestess lavished attention on the visitor. In the morning, she helped him prepare for hawking, saw him off and then had him return to her residence in the evening. In this way she entertained him with the greatest solicitude.
On the second night, the man said, ‘No matter what, I must see you alone.’ The Priestess of Ise was not averse to the idea, but as there were so many who could have seen them, it was impossible. As the huntsman was the most senior member of his party, the priestess arranged for him to be lodged in a place not too far from her sleeping chamber. And as he was very close by, she went to him just before midnight, when everyone was asleep. The man had been unable to sleep and was lying on his side gazing outdoors. The priestess appeared in the faint light of the moon, with a little page girl standing before her. Delighted, the man led them into his sleeping chamber. Yet though he and the priestess were together from midnight until almost three in the morning, she left without saying a word. The next morning, despite his apprehension, it was impossible to send a message to her, so the man waited in a state of great anxiety. Some time after dawn, a poem came from the priestess without any letter to accompany it:
Was it you who came to me,
or I who went to you?
I cannot tell.
Was I awake or sleeping?
Was it real, or just a dream?
The man, breaking into a flood of tears, replied:
In my chaotic heart of darkness
I also cannot tell.
Come again tonight,
and let us decide
if it was a dream or real.
After sending the poem to the priestess, he left for the hunt. Although he went to the open fields, he could hardly concentrate. He thought, ‘After everyone goes to sleep tonight, I want to see her as soon as possible.’ But the governor of Ise, who also administered the priestess’s household, came to know that an imperial huntsman had arrived on a hawking expedition and entertained him with sake all through the night. The huntsman could not arrange another tryst with the priestess, as the next morning his party was to leave for Owari. He shed tears of blood in secret, but he could not meet her again.
As the night was giving way to morning, the priestess sent the huntsman a cup of sake with a poem written on the inside. He picked up the cup and read the poem.
Traveller, your hem hardly got wet
crossing the river, shallow
as what was between us …
This was all that was there; the last two lines were missing. Taking up a pine torch, with its charred tip, the man completed the poem on the sake cup:
… but I will cross the Meeting Barrier
to meet you once again.
At dawn, he set off for the province of Owari.
The priestess, who served during the reign of the Mizunoo Emperor, was the daughter of Emperor Montoku and Prince Koretaka’s youngest sister.
70
Sea-Tangle
Long ago, on his way home from an imperial hawking expedition, the man lodged at Oyodo Crossing. There he recited a poem to one of the female attendants of the Priestess of Ise:
Fisher girl in your boat,
show me with your pole
where I can find see-tangle,
for by the sea-we’d meet,
me and the one I love.
71
Traversing the Sacred Fence
Long ago, the man paid a visit to the Priestess of Ise in his capacity as an imperial envoy. In the palace, one of the priestess’s ladies flirted with him, reciting a poem to express her own feelings.
Imperial messenger
from the splendid palace,
I so long to be alone with you
that I may traverse
the sacred fence of the raging gods.
The man’s reply:
If you love me
then please come,
for the raging gods
do not rail against
the ways of love.
72
The Pine of Oyodo
Long ago, the man tried unsuccessfully to arrange a further tryst with a lady in the province of Ise. Before he departed for a neighbouring province, he expressed his deep resentment to her. But the lady replied:
It is not the Oyodo pine
that is cold-hearted.
It is the resentful waves I blame,
for w
ith just a glance upon the bay
they quickly retreat again.
73
Within the Moon
Long ago, the man was in love with a lady whose whereabouts he knew, but he could not even send her a letter. His poem:
I can see you so clearly,
but never touch you
with my hands,
for you are as far away
as the laurel tree within the moon.
74
Piling up like Rocks
Long ago, the man felt great resentment towards a lady. His poem:
It is not that I must cross
mountains covered in rocks
to see you,
but because we seldom meet
my longing piles up and up.
75
‘See-Weed, See-Shells’
Long ago, the man proposed to a lady, ‘Let me take you to the province of Ise so we may live there together.’ The lady’s reply:
Just as the ‘seaweed’ of Oyodo
contains the sound ‘see’,
just seeing you
will be enough for me,
without any need for vows.
And she became even colder than before. The man’s response:
My sleeves are drenched
like those of the fishermen
harvesting seaweed.
Should just seeing you be enough
without ever being one with you?
The lady retorted:
Just as the tides flow in and out