The Tales of Ise (Penguin Classics)

by Donald Keene

of meeting you once.

  (Yumeji ni ha / ashi mo yasumezu / kayoedomo / utsutsu ni hitome / mishigoto wa arazu)

  55

  The Things You Said

  In this relatively straightforward episode, the hero sends a poem to a lady with whom he has fallen in love. The lady replies to his poems occasionally – implied by ‘but each time I recall / the things you said’ – but he still hopes that she may return his feelings. The poem employs the frequently used expression koto no ha (leaves of words), translated here as ‘the things you said’.

  56

  An Inn of Dew

  Episode 56 features a poem by the once again love-stricken hero. The ‘hut thatched with grass’ derives from a Chinese expression often used in poetry to describe the dwelling of a hermit or recluse. The rough thatch, with its many openings, allows the evening dew (tsuyu) to enter the hut. The dew is likened to tears, and the hut to a sleeve saturated with tears of love. As Katagiri points out, this episode has some linguistic similarities with Episode 4, which is also similar in the circumstances described. Together, these episodes add complexity to the portrayal of the hero, depicting the setbacks of a man for whom love plays a central role in his life. See also the poems in Episodes 26 and 54.

  57

  The Skeleton Shrimp

  The poem in Episode 57 is based on the word ‘skeleton shrimp’ (warekara), which is a pun that also functions as a pivot word (see kakekotoba). A more direct translation of the Japanese would be ‘shell-splitting shrimp’, referring to how the shrimp periodically sheds its shell; it is a small arthropod (Caprella mutica) that lives hidden in seaweed and can change colour to match its immediate surroundings. The image was commonly employed in poetry because when written as two separate words (ware kara) it could mean ‘by one’s own volition’ or ‘from myself’, and so could be used – as it is here – to indicate that one had brought troubles of the heart upon oneself. (See also Episode 65.)

  The second and third lines of the poem, ama no karumo ni / yadoru chō, form a preface (jokotoba) for ware kara. And the poem provides a good example of how the preface and pivot word work together. In the Japanese, ama no karumo ni / yadoru chō / ware kara can be read literally as ‘the seaweed that the fisherfolk cut / in this lives / the skeleton shrimp’. These words have nothing to do with the poet’s deeper message, however, simply serving as clever verbal decoration, like a verbal bouquet of flowers enclosed with a message of love. They are translated here as: ‘Just as the skeleton shrimp / sheds its brittle shell’.

  As indicated above, ware kara, rendered as two separate words, carries the meaning ‘by one’s own volition’, and this forms the basis of the poet’s underlying message: ‘I, too, break into pieces / with torments of a love / that I brought on myself’. Ware kara thus acts as a pivot word that enables the poem to be read in two entirely different ways, making it much more profound than a simple pun. Indeed, the second, purely decorative, sense conveyed by the poem can be read meaningfully up to the last line:

  The torments of love—

  the skeleton shrimp

  that lives in the seaweed

  cut by the fisherfolk

  sheds its brittle shell.

  This is not the only reading, of course, but just one layer of the ingenious verbal play.

  The poem well reflects the behavioural code of the time in that the hero does not blame his beloved for the intensity of his feelings, but admits he brought the ‘torments of … love’ upon himself. It has been argued convincingly that Episodes 2, 4 and 5 form an important subsection of the Tales in their depictions of an unobtainable lady. These three episodes are echoed in Episodes 51–7 in their compact narrative style and oblique references to the lady.

  58

  Demons and Gleanings

  Episode 58 has long been recognized as one of the most humorous in the Tales. Poems are exchanged between the hero, who has built himself a country home in Nagaoka (see Map 3), and the ladies-in-waiting of a princess living next door. Nagaoka, near Heiankyo (Kyoto), was the capital between 784 and 794, and many members of the imperial family and court nobility had residences there. We are told in Episode 84 that Narihira’s mother, Princess Ito, lived here, but it is not clear whether this has any connection to the present episode. The location seems to have been a peaceful rural area, and the poems employ images of fields and rice harvesting.

  The first poem is by one of the ladies. Seeing the man retreat into an inner room of his house, she asks whether it is deserted. This poem appears in the Kokinshū (no. 984) as a nostalgic evocation of an actual deserted and ruined dwelling; here, however, it has been turned into a playful quip. In the Japanese, the narrative following the first poem refers to the hero’s residence as a palace, which has caused problems for commentators, as this would imply that the hero was an imperial prince, a point that is still debated today. Because of this, the translation refers to the house only as a ‘residence’.

  The second poem develops the conceit of a ruined house with the hero poking fun at the ladies, likening their unorthodox visit to a ‘gathering’ of ‘demons’. The ladies respond by offering to glean the rice fields. Picking up the fallen grains that remained on the ground after the harvest was by law a prerogative of the poor and needy. Female attendants of a high-ranking household would not have been allowed to do this work, so by offering to glean, the ladies are feigning humility. In the third poem, the hero shows that he sees through their ploy all too easily.

  a man of refined taste and knowledgeable in affairs of the heart: The expression kokoro tsukite has been interpreted in various ways, but it is best understood in the sense of ‘elegant’, ‘artistic’, ‘romantic’, ‘refined’ or ‘tasteful’. This is one of the few episodes (nos. 39 and 47 are other examples) where a man, as opposed to a woman, is described as a ‘gallant’ (irogonomi – see here; translated here as ‘knowledgeable in affairs of the heart’), though in this specific episode he is not involved in any passionate relationship.

  an imperial family member: The word in the Japanese (miyabara) means a person whose mother was a princess.

  what a tasteful occupation for such an elegant gentleman: The subject of ‘setting off to oversee the rice harvesting’ is the hero, which is not obvious in the original Japanese. Seeing him leave the house, the ladies call him a sukimono. Applicable to someone engaged in something unconnected with either profit or duty, this can refer to either a ‘gallant’ (irogonomi) or a refined person. Here, the ladies use it to poke fun at a nobleman going out to the fields, which was considered inelegant.

  59

  Crossing the Straits of the Milky Way

  Episode 59 depicts a man who very nearly dies but is comically revived when water is splashed on his face. It was widely believed at the time that a person could return from the dead, as Episode 40 also suggests.

  We do not know exactly why the man resolves to leave the capital and live at Higashiyama, a mountain to the east of the city, but knowing our hero, we may reasonably assume that it is because of some trouble with a woman. Though it is now a beautiful historic district in east Kyoto, at the time the Tales was written, Higashiyama was also the name of a hamlet on the mountain.

  The first poem reveals the hero’s intention to lead a secluded life in the countryside because living in the city has become unbearable. The second poem, which appears in the Kokinshū (no. 863), is clearly associated with the Tanabata legend. The poem here amusingly recasts the tale in having the hero state that the water that revives him might be from the Milky Way, suggesting both that he can meet the lady only rarely, like the two lovers in the legend, and that the time has come to meet her because he feels the splash of the water on his face. There is also, of course, an implication that his plan to leave the capital was due to his inability to meet his beloved, and this is supported by the narrator’s quip at the end of the episode.

  Other witty adaptations of the Tanabata legend appear in Episodes 82 and 95, demonstrating how skilfully pre-exi
sting literary material has been incorporated into the Tales.

  60

  Mandarin Blossom

  Episode 60 is one of several episodes that deal with the theme of separation and its adverse effect on relationships; see also Episodes 24 and 62. The hero presents a poem to his former wife, who had left him for another man, when he meets her again at the residence of her new husband. He wishes to see her, not out of ill will but sheer nostalgia, and the poem he recites reflects this. However, from the lady’s point of view, his kindness leaves her no recourse. The suffering of the lady in this episode is reminiscent of that of her counterpart in Episode 24.

  The poem appears in the Kokinshū (no. 139) and is used here without alteration. This episode and the next (no. 61) depict a ‘journey to the west’, in contrast to the more famous journey to the east in the early sections of the Tales.

  sent to the Usa Shrine as an imperial envoy: The imperial envoy to Usa (Usa no tsukai) was an official sent from the court to the Usa Shrine (now Usa Hachimangu, Usa, Oita Prefecture; see Map 1) to report new accessions and other important events. The lady’s new husband is the provincial official in charge of receiving and entertaining the imperial envoy.

  the sake cup: The cup referred to here is called a kawarake. Made of unglazed pottery, it was used at banquets and usually shattered afterwards so that it could not be used again. Because asking his former wife to serve the sake was the order of an imperial envoy, the provincial official was not in a position to refuse.

  mandarin orange: A mandarin (tachibana) is added to the narrative to provide the cue for the composition of a poem on its fragrance. In the poem, satsuki is the fifth month of the lunisolar calendar, when mandarin blossoms are in bloom.

  61

  The Colour of Love

  The poems in Episode 61 employ local place names and multiple puns that pose considerable challenges for the translator. The exchange takes place on a visit to Tsukushi in modern-day Kyushu, and the setting encourages us to see this episode in tandem with Episode 60, also set there as part of a ‘journey to the west’.

  The lady is behind a screen used to hide women from male visitors. No one could see inside the screened-off area, but as the screen was made from thin slats of bamboo it was easy to see outside from the darker interior. The lady may have been the wife of the person whose house the hero was visiting.

  The first poem plays skilfully on the name Somegawa (literally, ‘River of Dyes’), the name of a river (see Map 1) located in present-day Fukuoka Prefecture, and the word iro, which means both ‘colour’ and ‘(erotic) love’. In reply to the lady’s accusation that the hero is a gallant (i.e. someone who likes iro or, in this context, sex; see here for more on the key term irogonomi), he asserts that anyone who crosses the River of Dyes is inevitably stained with ‘colour’ (iro), hence he is not the only one who is fond of affairs. In other words, he implies that the lady is also guilty of the same offence. The same poem appears in the Shūishū (no. 1234), where it is attributed to Narihira.

  In her reply, the lady refers to Tawarejima (Wanton Island – see Map 1), a reef off the coast of Kyushu whose name is derived from the verb tawabureru, meaning ‘to play around’ or ‘to flirt’. In general, nureginu (drenched robes) signifies a false accusation. The phrase nami no nureginu plays on the maritime theme with its dual sense of drenched by waves and a groundless rumour, translated here as ‘it’s unfair to say’. The precise meaning of the poem is open to interpretation. Some commentators argue that the lady is asserting that there is no basis in fact that people ‘who cross / the River of Dyes’ all develop a penchant for love affairs: only the hero is a gallant. Another interpretation – the one I have followed here – is that just as Wanton Island is not true to its name, so it is false to charge the lady with being wanton in love. A similar poem appears in the Gosenshū (no. 1351), and the present poem is probably a reworking of it.

  62

  Bare Branches

  Like Episode 60, Episode 62 depicts a woman leaving her husband and her chance reunion with him in the provinces. Because he neglected her for many years, she ended up in someone’s service and went to live far from the capital, and such behaviour is seen by the narrator as a mark of her lack of intelligence. Recognizing the lady as his former wife, the hero uses his position as a high-ranking court nobleman on official government business to ask for her to be sent to him for the night.

  The first poem expresses the hero’s surprise at the lady’s present miserable state, likening her to denuded cherry blossoms and describing her lost beauty as branches stripped bare. There are countless poems on cherry blossoms in Japanese classical literature, as it was the symbol of beauty, and hence a beautiful woman.

  The second poem asks if this can truly be how things have turned out. In this episode, the more the hero expresses his feelings of sadness, the more remorseful the lady becomes, in contrast to Episode 60. Taking off one’s cloak to present it as a gift was common at the time, as we can also see in Episodes 16 and 44.

  63

  Love at a Hundred

  Episode 63 is a tale of love between the hero and a lady of advanced years. The events that unfold are highly implausible, and the episode is designed to humorously exaggerate the figure of the hero as superior to ordinary lovers.

  A lady who appears to be quite old but nevertheless longs for a lover seeks the advice of her sons. Through a dream that she pretends to have had, she expresses to her three sons her desire to meet a kind man who would be her lover. By describing the dream to others, she invites them to divine and explain the prophetic elements within it. In Heian times, dreams were thought to have a mystical meaning, sent by deities either as divine messages (otsuge) or as predictions of the future. The two eldest sons do not react to the woman’s fabrication, but the youngest one arranges for her to meet the hero.

  This is the only episode in the Tales in which the hero is referred to as Zaigo chūjō (literally, ‘the fifth Ariwara son/captain’), but in the translation he is given his real name, Ariwara no Narihira. Katagiri points out that this naming is based on an already established image of the hero. The youngest son believes that only Narihira would have the generosity of heart to accept the plea of his ageing mother, and so he waits for Narihira to pass by while he is out hawking and implores him to meet her. Moved by the request, Narihira visits the lady’s house and spends the night there, though it is not clear whether he does so out of pity for her or because he is touched by the son’s filial concern.

  When the hero does not return, the lady goes to his house to try to catch a glimpse of him. As it was usually men who did the ‘glimpsing’ (kaimami), such behaviour by an old woman seems both strange and ludicrous, and this scene can be seen as a kind of parody of what was a common trope in the fiction of the period (see also here and Episodes 1 and 23).

  The hero’s poem describes the lady as being ‘just a year shy of a century’ (Momotose ni / hitotose taranu), although she was probably only in her forties. The word ‘phantom’ (omokage) as used in the Japanese, refers to an image of someone appearing before one’s eyes like an apparition. The expression is employed humorously here because the hero is pretending that he has not actually seen the lady lurking in the garden, only an image of her. For more on the belief that a person thinking of the loved one would appear in his or her dreams or as a phantom image, see Episode 9 and the ‘path of dreams’ (yumeji) in Episode 54, and Episodes 21 and 46 for poems that use the word omokage.

  Hearing the poem and seeing the hero preparing to go out, the lady imagines that he must be about to visit her. She rushes home and lies down. Making sure the hero can hear her, she recites a poem. Thus they each put on an act for the other, but whereas the hero is aware of the lady’s actions, the lady does not realize that the hero knows that she has visited his house. The words ‘robe for one’ (koromo katashiki) in the woman’s poem refer to the custom of spreading out the robes of both partners when the two sleep together, but only the sleeve of one
’s own robe when sleeping alone. This expression was used in poetry since ancient times as a metaphor for loneliness. The woman’s poem is a reworking of one in the Kokinshū (no. 689). The story of Prince Genji and the ‘elderly lady’ Gen no Naishi no Suke in The Tale of Genji is thought to have been modelled upon this episode.

  The final exaggerated comment by the narrator tells of the hero’s unique compassion as a lover, but it is clearly meant to be humorous. Among the English translations of the Tales available, I was inspired by Helen McCullough’s, particularly her beautiful translations of the prose sections, which are very much in keeping with the elegance of the original. As a tribute to her, I have used verbatim her translation of the last sentence of Episode 63, which, though not a direct translation, is perfect: ‘But Narihira made no such fine distinctions.’

  64

  Becoming a Breeze

  Episode 64 is a fairly straightforward depiction of an exchange between the hero and a lady. The fact that he does not know where she lives suggests that she must be of very high rank at court, making it extremely difficult to gain access to her. In his poem, the man fantasizes about becoming a breeze that could enter her rooms through the slats of the blinds. A man only entered a lady’s room when he was going to have intimate relations with her. The lady’s reply is a refusal, its haughtiness another indication of her high rank: she’s so grand, her poem implies, that even the breeze cannot disturb her without permission. The words ‘he had someone who knew her whereabouts’ were added to the translation, as he could not have delivered the poem otherwise.