by Donald Keene
the province of Settsu: This incorporates parts of present-day Osaka and Hyogo prefectures, while the Ubara District was centred on the modern-day city of Ashiya in Hyogo Prefecture. (See Map 2 for the village of Ashiya, mentioned in Episode 87.)
How did her poem read?: The literal meaning of the question posed by the narrator is ‘Was this good or not?’ (yoshi ya ashi ya). But the word ashi also puns on the ‘reeds’ of the first poem. Thus the penultimate sentence, ‘How did her poem read?’, translates the pun on reeds in the original. The title ‘Reed Ditty’ is intended to suggest both the meaning of ‘ditty’ as a mere ‘simple song’ and the contrasting, truly lyrical, ‘spirit ditties of no tone’ and ‘Delphic reeds’ of John Keats’s poetry. To give an idea of how taken readers have been with the expression yoshi ya ashi ya, a famous literary figure of the eighteenth century, Ueda Akinari (1734–1809), used it as the title of his commentary on the Tales.
34
Tempest
Much debate has been generated over the meaning of Episode 34 and the narrator’s ambiguous final evaluation, presented as a conjecture. The expression omonashi can be read in two entirely different ways, as ‘brazen’ or as ‘swallowing his pride’. If one takes it to be the former, this sentence would read: ‘He seems to have bared his heart without any sense of shame.’ The other interpretation, preferred by Yamamoto and others, is the one presented here: ‘He seems to have swallowed his pride and bared his heart.’ (For more on the difficulties posed in translation by this and other episodes, see ‘Note on the Translation and Text’, here.)
cold-hearted lady: For more on the theme of the ‘fickle lady’ (irogonomi), see here.
35
A Loosely Tied Knot
The poem sent by the hero in this episode in the hope of rekindling an affair revolves around the word awao, which is extremely difficult to translate. A somewhat similar poem appears in the Man’yōshū (no. 763), but ahao (the original spelling of the poem in the Tales, according to the rules of early kana orthography – see Appendix 4, here) is used instead of awao. It is thought to mean a knot that easily comes undone. This is the view of Katagiri, and I have followed this interpretation. However, Yamamoto points out that the word awao may also be understood in the opposite way, as a knot that is difficult to loosen. No consensus has been reached about the meaning; the interpretation is up to the reader.
a string of gems: See tama no o.
36
A Hardy Vine
In Episode 36, the poem that the hero sends to the lady who has accused him of forgetting her is a reworking of no. 3507 in the Man’yōshū (see here). It also acts as a foil for the ‘Creeping Vine’ in Episode 118. While both poems use the word ‘vine’ (tamakazura), the one in Episode 118 has entirely different connotations from the poem here, where it signifies undying affection.
37
Morning Glory
Episode 37 features two poems concerning an undersash (shitahimo), by which a lady’s undergarments were secured. As undoing it denoted a physical relationship between a man and a woman, the image often appears in love poetry (see also Episode 111). According to tradition, when a woman was loved by someone, her undersash would loosen of its own accord.
The first poem also uses the image of the Japanese morning glory (Ipomoea nil), which is both the plant commonly known by that name today and a general term for plants that flower in the early morning, such as balloon flowers (Platycodon grandiflorus) and rose mallow (Hibiscus syriacus). The morning glory is said to have been brought to Japan from China in the late Nara period (710–94). Growing on vines, the flowers open their petals in the morning and then close them again in the afternoon. They bloom from summer until autumn. Because of the shortness of the blooming period, the morning glory was widely used in poetry as a metaphor for something that is fleeting and changeable. Here, too, it is used with the meaning ‘to fade quickly’, just as the lady’s love for the hero may evaporate. The word yūkage (dusk) literally means ‘the light of the evening sun’.
The episode concerns a poetic exchange between the hero and a fickle lady (irogonomi – see here; see also Episodes 25 and 42). The hero sends the first poem on his return home after visiting the lady, as he suspects that she has cheated on him; the second poem is her assurance that she is not. There is a similar poem in the Man’yōshū (no. 2919), of which this seems to be a reworking or a variant. On its own, it is a straightforward love poem, displaying no reaction to the rebuke about inconstancy expressed in the first poem. In its appeal to pure love, the second poem shows how skilful the lady is being as she endeavours to keep the man’s heart captive while cleverly avoiding his accusations.
38
The Meaning of Love
Episode 38 features a humorous exchange between the hero, who is visiting the house of the absent Ki no Aritsune, and Aritsune himself, who returns later. Aritsune was the father-in-law of Ariwara no Narihira. However, in the Tales he is fictionalized as the hero’s friend, as in Episode 16.
In the first poem the hero states that he had not known until now what it is that the world calls ‘love’, but thanks to his friend’s returning late, he has come to understand it well, and he teasingly chides Aritsune for being late. The hero’s declaration that he is a stranger to love is highly ironic and would have been certain to provoke amusement, as Narihira was regarded as the model lover. The usual object of ‘love’ in poetry is someone of the opposite sex, but the verb kou (to think of lovingly), from which the noun koi (love) derives, has a broad range of meanings, including the love of a friend. In the Heian world, there is nothing unnatural about using ‘love’ playfully with regard to a male friend. (See also poetic exchanges between men.)
In his reply, Aritsune implies that he also has no idea what the meaning of love is and is in no position to teach it to anyone, thereby sharing with the hero the joke about inexperience in love. This episode is similar to Episode 48 in that both express the agony of waiting for a loved friend who does not appear.
39
The Glow of Fireflies
The main point of interest of this episode is the brilliant and witty exchange of love poems, each based on the Lotus Sutra. The most influential Buddhist scripture in Japan, this text stresses the eternal nature of the Buddha, describes how to achieve enlightenment, and prophesies universal buddhahood.
Because the hero, Narihira, is celebrated for having made love to women in all kinds of settings, it is ironic that in this episode it is he who determines one place that is inappropriate for lovemaking. The fact that he does so while ensconced in a lady’s carriage adds wry humour to the story.
The ‘Emperor of the Western Pavilion’, Emperor Junna, had a daughter, Princess Takaiko, who died on the fifteenth day of the fifth month in 848 at the age of eighteen. In the story, the hero, who was living next door to the princess, goes out to see off the cortège, riding in an ox-drawn carriage with a lady. In pre-modern Japan, only close family members accompanied the deceased from their home to the cremation ground or the graveyard, while others paid their respects from the side of the road.
The phrase ‘one of the most famous gallants in all the land’ is the translation for ame no shita no irogonomi. Here, ‘gallant’ is used to translate the term irogonomi, previously translated as ‘fickle’ in relation to women. This is one of the few times in the Tales when the term is used to refer to a man (see here for further discussion of the term). Itaru, the gallant in question, assumes that a woman is riding alone inside the carriage and begins to flirt with her. This would be par for the course usually – but not at a funeral.
Wanting to see the lady’s face, Itaru releases fireflies inside the carriage to illuminate the darkness, but the hero catches them to extinguish their light, thereby protecting his high-born companion from being seen by a man she does not know. The exquisite trope of seeing a lady’s face by the light of fireflies, introduced in this episode, was taken up again in later works, such as the Utsuho monogatari (see below)
and The Tale of Genji.
In the first poem, the hero reproaches Itaru for his impolite behaviour and for failing to respect their grief. The words tomoshi kechi (literally, ‘the flame has gone out’) form a pun (kakekotoba) referring to both the death of the princess and the extinguished light of the fireflies. The phrase is thought to be based on an account of the Buddha’s death included in the introductory episode of the Lotus Sutra and elsewhere.
In the first two lines of the second poem, Itaru states that he, too, is sad (Ito aware) at hearing the sound of weeping. The following three lines are reminiscent of a passage in the ‘Tactfulness’ chapter of the Lotus Sutra, which states that though the Buddha has died, it does not mean he has actually ceased to exist. The poem seems to offer a suggestion of comfort in grief, though it is difficult to decipher its exact meaning. Like the first poem, it includes the line tomoshi kechi, thereby forming a link between the two in a sophisticated, witty exchange of wicked humour that must have delighted readers at the time.
From the Kamakura period (1185–1333), waka and the Tales were often interpreted through the lens of Buddhist teachings and much of it was influenced by sexual imagery. The Tachikawa school of Shingon Esoteric Buddhism, for example, expounded the notion that the joining of male and female led to enlightenment, an interpretation that held great sway into the middle of the Muromachi period (1336–1573). Elsewhere, Narihira is presented as an incarnation of the Horsehead Kannon, who leads the women with whom he had relationships to the world of enlightenment through sex. Humorous or delightful though they may be, these readings of the Tales are arbitrary, however, and do little to deepen our understanding of the text.
At the end of the episode, the narrator evaluates Itaru’s poem with one damning word, nao, meaning commonplace and uninteresting. We find examples of literary assessment on the part of the narrator in a number of episodes, including Episodes 77 and 87. In this case, the comment may be tongue-in-cheek; it does not necessarily imply that the narrator regards the poem as mediocre at all. The narrator’s final comment (miko no hon’i nashi) has been interpreted in a number of different ways, the most likely being that it is a criticism of Itaru’s behaviour as being highly inappropriate in the context of the death of a princess. Another possible translation is: ‘For Her Highness, it was surely disappointing.’
funeral: The word ‘funeral’ here is a translation of hafuri, from a verb meaning ‘to discard (a dead body)’ and, by extension, ‘to bury’.
a lady in her carriage: Onna-guruma (literally, ‘woman’s carriage’) was, as the name implies, one used by women and different in appearance from a man’s carriage.
weeping profusely: See otoko naki (crying of men).
Shitago: See Appendix 2 (here) and the Introduction (here).
40
With All His Heart
This is one of several episodes about the passion of young love. Here, the parents of the hero stand in the way of his love for a low-ranking girl serving the family. Greatly distressed, the young man nearly dies but eventually regains his hold on life through the prayers of his parents.
The obscure final sentence by the narrator has inspired a variety of interpretations, none of which is definitive. Yamamoto and others argue that the phrases ‘young of long ago’ and ‘old men these days’ have been employed to highlight the differences in the depth of passion felt by people of old compared with those of the present, who cannot love as passionately. Katagiri, on the other hand, takes the last sentence to refer to one and the same person at different stages of his life. Thus interpreted, the sentence reads: ‘That young man long ago loved with all his heart; this old man could never love like that now’, and can be read as a first-person recollection by the narrator of an episode in his youth. Yet another possible interpretation is: ‘The passionate young men of long ago who are now older can no longer love like they did.’ I have opted for this interpretation, which is the most commonly accepted reading.
when the man was in his youth: I have added this to the beginning of the episode to make clear that the man being referred to here is the same man, i.e. Narihira, as in other episodes.
tears of blood: See chi no namida.
eight at night: The time is given as the ‘hour of the dog’ (inu no koku), which is about two hours on each side of 8 p.m.
41
Purple Bonds
While this episode shares many elements with Episode 1, it is thought that Episode 41 was composed first, making it one of the earliest in the Tales. Both episodes employ famous poems, and both concern two sisters. Like Episode 16, Episode 41 depicts the hero as a paragon of kindness and noblesse oblige, which in turn became the model for Genji in The Tale of Genji. The hero helps the sister of his wife, who has married a poor and low-ranking man, partially out of his high regard for his own wife. The ‘formal wear’ mentioned here is the outer robe that had to be worn by court officials on ceremonial occasions. It had a different colour according to the rank of the wearer.
The sister tries to wash her husband’s robe herself in preparation for the New Year festivities, but rips it. When traditional Japanese clothes are washed, they are first unstitched, so that what is washed are long lengths of cloth, which are then starched and stretched out to dry in order not to get wrinkled. Here the sister has clearly stretched the fabric too far and ended up tearing it.
The poem illustrates how the hero’s deep love for his wife extends to her sister. It uses the puns (kakekotoba) me (meaning both ‘bud’ and ‘eye’) and haru (meaning ‘swell’ or ‘sprout’ and ‘far’). Thus the line me mo haru ni can mean both ‘the swelling buds’ and ‘as far as the eye can see’. As the narrator observes, the poem was composed in the same spirit as a poem in the Kokinshū (no. 867):
Because of a single stalk
of lavender grass,
I look with affection
on all the grasses
of the Musashi Plain.
(Murasaki no / hitomoto yue ni / Musashino no / kusa wa minagara / aware to zo miru)
The poem from this episode also appears in the Kokinshū (no. 868), immediately after the poem cited. There, the headnote states ‘On sending a robe to his brother-in-law’ and is thought to provide the source for the headnote in Episode 41, where the story has been expanded to include the wife ruining the robe when washing it.
New Year’s Eve: See lunisolar calendar.
Plain of Musashi: See the commentary to Episode 9; see also Episode 12.
42
Treading on My Footprints
Episode 42 depicts the hero in a situation in which he cannot give up his love for a fickle lady despite the distress his suspicions about her fidelity are causing him. The hero’s conflicted state of mind – loving the lady despite being unable to trust her – are well expressed in the repetition of the adverb hata (literally, ‘but then’/‘and also’; translated here as ‘even though’ and ‘Despite’) at the beginning of the tale. Unusually in a love affair, he openly declares his suspicions in his poem. The final comment by the narrator indicates that he understands that the man’s suspicions would cause him to send such an unusual poem. This a good example of the many episodes in the Tales concerning the hero’s misgivings about an unfaithful lady (irogonomi – see here).
an amorous lady: Some early commentaries on this work have argued that the lady referred to was the famous ninth-century poet Ono no Komachi (see here), a legendary lover in her own right, but such interpretations are no longer considered valid and are relevant only in terms of the history of the reception of the Tales.
43
Where the Cuckoo Sings
Episode 43 is one of the most charming of the entire work because of the humorous and generous attitude towards love affairs that it evokes. The hero concludes that, as long as the lady keeps visiting him, he will tolerate her visiting other men, a sentiment in keeping with polygamous Heian court society (see here). As in the previous episode, the hero is depicted as a devoted man who cannot bear t
o be apart from a lady despite her fickle ways (irogonomi – see here).
The first poem is also included in the Kokinshū (no. 147) as an anonymous poem on an unknown topic or dai shirazu (see here). In it, the hero compares the lady, who has many lovers, to a cuckoo that flies from place to place and complains how this hurts him greatly. Though the metaphor of the cuckoo was usually applied to men – who travelled to the homes of their lovers on their nightly visits – here it is deliberately used to refer to a lady.
In the second poem, the cuckoo is referred to by its alternate name, shide no taosa (tiller of the underworld). The origin of this name is obscure; in the Heian period it was simply used as a synonym for ‘cuckoo’, and that is how it has been translated. The word iori (translated here as ‘huts’) means a small hut used for supervising agricultural activities and is an associative word (engo) for taosa (overseer of farm labourers). The phrase iori amata (many huts) is employed as a metaphor for having relationships with many men.
In the Japanese, the note between the second and third poems indicates that the exchange took place in the fifth month, which would have been in the summer according to the old lunisolar calendar. The cuckoo is a bird of summer, so the poems are appropriate to the season.
Whereas, in the first poem, the man uses the expression nao utomarenu (‘how it pains me’) in the third he says merely nao tanomu (‘I love you still’), a considerable development from his former stance. He has been completely disarmed by the lady’s cajolery.