The Tales of Ise (Penguin Classics)

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The Tales of Ise (Penguin Classics) Page 10

by Donald Keene


  Dear Blossoms,

  so exquisitely

  in bloom today,

  will you still be like this

  by tomorrow night?

  It is not surprising that he felt this way.

  91

  The Last Day of Spring

  Long ago, the man composed a poem lamenting the passage of time. It was the end of spring.

  However I may lament,

  today is the last day

  of spring,

  and already

  twilight is upon us.

  92

  Hidden by Reeds

  Long ago, fuelled by a burning desire, the man went to the dwelling place of his beloved many times without even being able to deliver a letter to her. His poem:

  Hidden among the reeds

  I am like a little boat

  rowing back and forth,

  back and forth,

  but you never notice me.

  93

  Love Between the Ranks

  Long ago, the man, who was low in rank, fell for a lady of a rank well beyond his own. But perhaps the lady had given him small reason for hope, because he longed for her when awake and even in his sleep. Consumed by this longing, he composed a poem.

  When you love,

  love your equal,

  for the gulf between

  high and low runs deep

  with suffering beyond compare.

  Even in the old days, were such things commonplace?

  94

  Autumn Leaves and Spring Blossoms

  Long ago, for an unknown reason the man stopped living with his wife. After some time, the lady took up with another man. But she had a child by the first husband, so, although they were no longer close, she kept in touch with him. The lady painted, and the former husband once sent her a request to paint a picture for him. She replied that her new husband was with her and did not send him a painting for several days.

  The former husband sent word, saying, ‘How cold of you not to do what I asked you! Maybe such behaviour is quite natural for you, but it’s also natural that I should resent it.’ And, teasing her, he sent a poem. The season was autumn.

  On these long nights

  you forget spring days.

  Are you wrapped up

  in autumn fogs much thicker

  than the mists of spring?

  The lady’s reply:

  A thousand autumn nights

  can’t compare to a single spring with you.

  But as for being short-lived,

  autumn leaves and spring blossoms

  scatter just the same.

  95

  The Herd Boy’s Star

  Long ago, the man was in the service of the Empress of the Second Avenue. He would constantly see a lady who was also in service there, and he began to court her. He said to her, ‘I’ve been so vexed with burdensome thoughts. Even if only before a screen, please find a way for me to meet you, so that I might clear my heart.’ Accordingly, the lady met him very discreetly with a screen between them. During their conversation, the man recited a poem.

  My love shines brighter

  than the Herd Boy’s star,

  and though the barrier between us

  is not as great as the Milky Way,

  please tear it away now.

  Deeply affected, the lady permitted him to pass the night in her company.

  96

  Boils and Curses

  Long ago, the man courted a lady for quite some time, but in the end, as she was made of neither wood nor stone – and perhaps feeling a little sorry for him – she gradually began to return his affections. Alas, by then it was around the middle of the last month of summer, and several boils broke out on her body.

  The lady sent word to the man, ‘I have a heart for none but you. But I am suffering from one or two boils, and the hot weather is dreadful. I am sure we will be one when the breezes of autumn begin to blow.’ But while the would-be lovers were waiting for autumn to come, rumours spread that she was going to live with him, and her older brother suddenly came to take her away. The lady had a servant fetch her a maple leaf that had just begun to turn colour. She composed a poem and wrote it on the leaf to give to the man.

  I promised to be with you in autumn,

  but it could not come to pass,

  because what was between us

  was like a stream made shallow

  from piled-up leaves.

  Then she left, giving instructions, ‘If a messenger comes from that man, please give this to him.’ To this day, no one knows what became of her or whether she ended up happily. No one even knows where she went. It is said that her suitor, gesturing with his hands, made a curse. What a macabre thing to do! Do curses really affect those cursed? It is said that the suitor remarked, ‘We’ll soon find out!’

  97

  Old Age, Don’t Come!

  Long ago, there was a nobleman known as the Horikawa minister. On the occasion of the celebrations for his fortieth birthday at his Ninth Avenue residence the elderly captain of the Imperial Guard composed a poem.

  Cherry blossoms,

  scatter in blizzards

  so that old age

  cannot tell the path

  on which to come.

  Blooms of Devotion

  98

  Blooms of Devotion

  Long ago, there lived a certain chancellor. At the end of autumn, one of his retainers presented him with an exquisitely crafted replica of a sprig of plum blossom with a pheasant tied to it. With the gift came a poem:

  Though the seasons

  will come and go,

  the blossoms I present to you

  bloom throughout the year—

  just like my devotion.

  The chancellor was truly delighted and bestowed a reward upon the messenger.

  99

  A Glimpse or Not

  Long ago, on the occasion of an archery meet at the riding grounds of the guards of the Right, the captain of the Imperial Guard caught the faintest glimpse of a lady’s face through the silk curtain in the carriage opposite his own. He sent her a poem.

  I have been enchanted

  by someone I am not sure

  I have even glimpsed or not,

  so I spend this day longing,

  lost in melancholic reverie.

  The lady’s reply:

  From just one glimpse,

  how can you rashly judge

  what you might know of me?

  Let your feelings be the signpost

  to the pathway of my heart.

  Later, he found out who she really was.

  100

  Longing-Grass

  Long ago, the man was making his way along a passageway inside the Koryoden Pavilion in the palace. From a chamber there, a certain high-ranking lady had some forgetting-grass passed out to him with a question, ‘Are you trying to call these “longing-grasses”?’ Receiving them, the man responded:

  You may think I am

  like a wild field where only

  forgetting-grass grows,

  but I am a field of longing-grass,

  longing for you for evermore.

  101

  Glorious Wisteria

  Long ago, there lived a man named Ariwara no Yukihira, who was the commander of the Military Guards of the Left. Having heard that he had some fine sake, some courtiers went to visit him, and Yukihira held a party for them that very day. Fujiwara no Masachika, Middle Controller of the Left, who had been serving in the Privy Chamber, was the guest of honour. The host was a man of refined sensibility, and he arranged some flowers in a vase, including an extraordinary wisteria spray some three and a half feet long. Everyone composed poems about the wisteria. They were almost finished when the host’s younger brother arrived, having heard that there was a party taking place. The guests caught hold of him, demanding that he, too, compose a poem. As he knew little about poetry, he demurred, but they compelled him to anyway. His poem:

&nbs
p; So many take shelter

  beneath the wisteria blossom,

  symbol of the Fujiwara clan.

  Its bountiful shade

  reaches further than ever.

  ‘Why compose a poem such as this?’ they asked. He answered, ‘I was thinking of how the chancellor has reached such heights these days and how his entire clan prospers.’ No one could criticize the poem further.

  102

  Riding Upon Clouds

  Long ago, there lived a man who was not much of a poet but understood well the subtleties of the human heart. He did, however, send one poem to a high-ranking lady when she became a nun, because she was his relative. She had gone to live at a faraway mountain retreat in order to escape the society of the capital because her dislike of human affairs was so intense. His poem:

  One cannot hope

  to ride upon clouds

  just by renouncing the world,

  but perhaps one can be free

  of the troubles of life.

  The lady in question was the princess who had served as the Priestess of Ise.

  103

  A Fleeting Dream

  Long ago, there was a man of utter sincerity in the service of the Fukakusa Emperor who was highly conscientious and had little interest in matters of love. Perhaps it was a mistake of the heart, but he became intimate with a lady who was favoured by a son of the emperor. He sent her a poem.

  Our night together

  was like a fleeting dream,

  but when I dozed off

  it appeared to me again,

  even fainter still.

  A disappointing poem, indeed!

  104

  ‘See-Weed’ and Winks, Not Winkles

  Long ago, without strong conviction, a certain lady became a nun. Though she adopted a nun’s garb, she must have retained some interest in the affairs of the world, for one day she went out to see the Kamo festival. The man was there, and he composed a poem and had it delivered to her.

  Dear Fisher Nun,

  disliking the sad sea of life,

  you took up these habits,

  but, even so, give me a wink

  and a nibble of ‘see-weed’.

  It is said that the lady was the former Priestess of Ise and that when the poem was delivered to her carriage, she gave up viewing the festival and returned home.

  105

  Mister Dewdrop

  Long ago, the man sent a message to a lady: ‘If things go on like this, it will be the death of me.’ The lady’s answer:

  Mister Dewdrop,

  if you must vanish, then do!

  But even should you not,

  no one will try to thread like pearls

  your life-drops of dew.

  The man thought that she was extremely rude, but he fell even more in love with her than ever.

  106

  Dyeing Itself Red

  Long ago, while accompanying some princes on an excursion, the man composed a poem beside the bank of the Tatsuta River.

  Unheard of, even in the age

  of the raging gods—

  the Tatsuta River

  dyeing its own waters

  autumnal reds.

  The Tatsuta River

  107

  The Truth-Revealing Rain

  Long ago, a man of high rank had a maid in his household who was proposed to by an imperial secretary named Fujiwara no Toshiyuki. The girl was still very young and unable to write letters or express her feelings well, much less compose poetry. So the master of the house drafted a letter for her and had her copy it and send it to Toshiyuki. Quite dazzled by it, Toshiyuki composed a poem in reply.

  While the rain pours down

  I am lost in thought,

  but it is a river of tears

  that drenches my sleeves,

  for there is no way for us to meet.

  As before, the master of the house wrote a reply for her:

  The river of tears must be shallow,

  if only your sleeves get wet.

  When I hear you have been swept away

  by floods of tears,

  I may believe in your love.

  Toshiyuki was so taken with this response that it is said he rolled up the poem and placed it in his letter casket, where he still treasures it.

  Later, after Toshiyuki had succeeded in winning the girl, he sent her another letter: ‘It seems it may rain at any moment, so I am wondering whether or not I should go to visit you now. If I am lucky, it won’t.’ Again the master of the house replied in the girl’s place with a poem:

  The Truth-Revealing Rain

  I could never ask

  if your love is true,

  but the rain that knows

  falls more and more heavily

  and will reveal the truth.

  Receiving the poem, Toshiyuki rushed to her in a state of great agitation without troubling to put on a hat or cape and arrived soaking wet.

  108

  Crying Frogs

  Long ago, a lady who bore a grudge against a man repeated a poem over and over again:

  Because the wind always blows,

  the waves keep rising

  and covering the rocks,

  just like my sleeves

  that never dry of tears.

  The man who heard it, thinking that she was blaming him, replied:

  Though not a drop of rain falls,

  water rises in the rice fields

  where night after night

  so many frogs are crying—

  all because of you.

  109

  First Mourned

  Long ago, the man sent a poem to a friend who had lost a loved one.

  Which did you think

  you would have to mourn first—

  cherry blossoms or the one

  whose life was even shorter

  than the petals’?

  110

  Bind Me with a Spell

  Long ago, the man received a message from a lady whom he had been visiting in secret: ‘Tonight, you appeared in my dream.’ The man’s reply:

  My spirit must have left me

  in its desire to be with you.

  Later in the night,

  if you see it again,

  please bind it down with a spell.

  111

  Coming Undone

  Long ago, under the pretence of offering condolences for someone who had passed away, the man sent a poem to a high-ranking lady.

  I do not know if such things

  happened in the distant past,

  but just now I understand

  that one can love someone

  whom one has not yet met.

  The lady’s reply:

  I doubt that you love me

  as you say you do,

  for I see no sign

  of my undersash coming undone

  as proof that you may love me.

  The man’s response:

  I will not say

  ‘I love you’ again,

  but if your undersash

  comes undone by itself,

  you will know it is because of me.

  112

  Drifting Smoke

  Long ago, the man was deeply in love with a lady and they pledged themselves to each other. But then the lady fell for another man. The former lover’s poem:

  Blown by rough winds,

  smoke from the salt-making fires

  of the fisherfolk of Suma

  has drifted in a direction

  I could never have imagined.

  113

  The Shortest Time

  Long ago, the man found himself once more alone. His poem:

  Life itself

  is not long at all;

  how could you

  have forgotten me

  in an even shorter time?

  114

  The Crane’s Lament

  Long ago, bringing the man in his party to handle the hawks, Emperor Koko went on an imperial outing to Serikawa
. The man thought that he was too old for such a task, but he was taken along because he had formerly served in that role. On the patterned sleeves of his hunting robes, he inscribed a poem:

  Do not reproach

  this old man in hunting robes.

  Just as the crane laments,

  ‘This day will be my end,’

  I wear these robes for the last time.

  The poem put the emperor in a bad mood. The man had written it thinking of his own advanced years, but the emperor, who was no longer young, took it to be about himself.

  115

  Burned by Live Coals

  Long ago, the man was living with a lady in the province of Michinoku, when suddenly the man said to her, ‘I’ve decided to go to live in the capital.’ The lady was distraught, but she arranged a farewell for him, serving him sake at a place called Miyakoshima in Oki-no-ite. She recited a poem.

  Being burned by live coals

  would not be as painful

  as our parting, for I must stay

  at the Island of the Capital

  far from the one where you will go.

 

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