The Tales of Ise (Penguin Classics)

by Donald Keene

  102

  Riding Upon Clouds

  Episode 102 comprises another poem in which the influence of Chinese thought, in this case Daoism, is apparent. The hero sends a poem to a relative who has become a nun, expressing his envy of the lady’s renunciation of the world. The phrase ‘ride upon clouds’ is based on tales of Daoist wizards and immortals flying through the air recounted in, among other sources, chapter 1 of the central Daoist text Zhuangzi, entitled ‘Xiaoyao you’ (Free and Easy Wandering). The final comment by the narrator informs us that the lady in question was the Priestess of Ise (see Episode 69). Katagiri argues that this episode is written as a continuation of Episode 69, the main tale regarding the priestess. See also Episode 59, which depicts an amusing account of the hero’s own attempt to leave the secular world and live in seclusion.

  103

  A Fleeting Dream

  The interest of the episode lies in the fact that though the poem is considered by many to be one of Narihira’s finest, the narrator appears to condemn it as ‘disappointing’. The poem and context are a reworking of a poem in the Kokinshū (no. 644). The final comment by the narrator is open to different interpretations: it can be read as a display of modesty by the hero-narrator or as tongue-in-cheek criticism of the hero-poet by a third person that is not meant to be taken at face value. As such, it is nothing more than veiled praise.

  Fukakusa Emperor: A reference to Emperor Ninmyo, the name here relating to the location of his mausoleum in the Fukakusa District of Kyoto.

  104

  ‘See-Weed’ and Winks, Not Winkles

  Like the Aoi episode in the ninth chapter of The Tale of Genji and the Hatsuhana episode in the eighth chapter, Eiga monogatari (Tale of Flowering Fortunes), this tale depicts a taboo love exchange between a nun who has gone to see the colourful Kamo festival (see below) and a member of the nobility viewing the same proceedings. In the Tales the nobleman is the hero. A similar poem can be found in Goshūi wakashū (Later Collection of Gleanings; no. 1155), which in turn appears in the Makura no sōshi (Pillow Book; no. 80) by Sei Shonagon (c.966–1017/1025).

  The poem can be interpreted in two ways: as a satire on the lady’s misguided decision to become a nun, or as a somewhat bawdy joke – Takeoka’s interpretation – in the form of a love poem. The latter interpretation is probably the right one. There are a number of puns: umi no / ama can mean both ‘fisherwoman’ and ‘sorrowful nun’; miru means ‘to see’ and ‘seaweed’ (see mirume); and mekuwasu (in the form mekuwaseyo) is both ‘to feed someone seaweed’ and ‘to communicate (invitingly) with a look’. This episode has much in common with Episode 102 and was probably written as a continuation of it.

  she adopted a nun’s garb: In the Japanese, the lady is described as being of ‘nondescript’ or ‘shabby appearance’ (katachi yatsushitaredo), indicating that she has been ordained and thus wears the plain robes of a nun.

  Kamo festival: The Kamo festival takes place at the Kamo Shrine in Kyoto. Also known as the Aoi festival, it was the largest festival in the capital during the Heian period.

  It is said that the lady was the former Priestess of Ise: A reference to the Priestess of Ise, Princess Yasuko – see Episode 69.

  105

  Mister Dewdrop

  Episode 105 is a universally recognizable tale: a lady’s cruel behaviour causes a man to fall even more deeply in love with her. The episode is also noteworthy in that it depicts a lady whom the hero cannot meet, despite his efforts. The lady’s cold attitude towards the hero, despite his attempts to see her, is also depicted in Episodes 25, 30, 32 and 34. In her poem, she compares the man to a dewdrop (see tsuyu), stating that as no one cares anything about him, he can go ahead and die if he wishes – a response that has the effect of making the hero fall even more deeply in love.

  106

  Dyeing Itself Red

  Episode 106 features a poem familiar to most Japanese from its inclusion in the Hyakunin isshu. The poem is written on the bank of the Tatsuta River when the hero is out strolling with some princes. The Tatsuta is a river in Nara Prefecture, and its environs are famous for viewing autumn leaves.

  The poem, which also appears in the Kokinshū (no. 294, by Narihira), was originally created for a picture screen owned by the Empress of the Second Avenue and praised the empress for giving birth to a crown prince. It is thought that Narihira was the leader of a circle of poets who gathered at her palace, and he apparently composed the poem in her presence. The empress was known by the title ‘consort mother of the crown prince’ (see the commentary to Episode 76) between 869 and 876, when Narihira would have been between the ages of forty-five and fifty-two.

  This episode creates a new fictional setting of a Kokinshū poem. Since in Japanese mythology the gods are the ancestors of the imperial house, it is appropriate for Narihira to refer to them in a poem that takes as its subject a painting on a screen belonging to the empress. The poem suits its new narrative setting here, too, because the people rambling along the banks of the Tatsuta River are imperial princes.

  raging gods: The word Chihayaburu (raging) is a pillow word (makura kotoba) for ‘gods’ (kami). (See also Episode 71.)

  dyeing its own waters / autumnal reds: The word karakurenai (literally, ‘Chinese red’) is a bright scarlet dye that originally came from China and the Korean Peninsula, hence its name. The word kukuru means ‘tie-dying’ in particular. The appearance of large numbers of red autumn leaves floating on the surface of the river water is likened to cloth that has been dyed red using this technique. The poem expresses the poet’s delight at a scene so wonderful that even the gods of old could not have imagined it.

  107

  The Truth-Revealing Rain

  Episode 107 develops the ideal of elegant behaviour central to the Tales. The head of the house is depicted as being both kind and considerate, which he proves by writing poems on behalf of a young woman in his house (some commentators suggest it is a maid, others his younger sister) and sends them to Fujiwara no Toshiyuki, who is seeking her hand. It is such acts that exemplify the courtly refinement and sophistication (miyabi – see here) of the main characters and others in the Tales. This episode is similar to Episode 41 but with the added elements of gender mixing and humour.

  Not knowing that someone else has written on her behalf, Toshiyuki is deeply moved by what he reads and composes a poem in reply, lamenting the fact that he is unable to meet her. In the original Japanese, the word nagame is a pun (kakekotoba) meaning both ‘lost in thought’ and ‘continuous rain’. The expression ‘river of tears’ (namidagawa) is a hyperbole in a similar vein, referring to the copious tears shed by the unhappy lover.

  The second poem, again written by the master of the house, skilfully parries Toshiyuki’s proposal. Maintaining the image of tears/falling rain that runs through all three poems in this episode, it captivates Toshiyuki, who goes on to win the girl. As was the custom of the time, the newly married couple did not live together at first; the husband visited his wife at night and returned to his own home the next morning (see here). A letter arrives from Toshiyuki, saying he does not know whether he will make the visit, as it looks like rain. As before, the master of the house replies on her behalf, the poem containing a hidden and humorous reprimand for Toshiyuki’s lack of steadfastness in the face of a bit of rain. The words mi o shiru ame means ‘the rain that knows the outcome of one’s fate’; the poem can be glossed as: ‘If you don’t come (just) because it is raining, you do not love me; if you come even if it is raining, you do love me.’

  All three poems in this episode are included in the Kokinshū (nos. 617, 618 and 705), attributed to Toshiyuki (no. 617) and Narihira (nos. 618 and 705).

  108

  Crying Frogs

  The main feature of Episode 108 is a witty poem based on the comic image of crying frogs. A lady recites a poem that expresses how she is continually in tears because of a man’s indifference towards her. Thinking that he is the subject of the poem, the hero attempts
to vindicate himself in his reply. In his poem, he suggests that the lady’s many lovers are like a field full of frogs; moreover, even though there is no rain, it is always filled with water because of the tears shed by the frogs. The crying of the frogs is like the many suitors weeping because of her coldness. (See also Episode 27.)

  The first of the two poems is by Ki no Tsurayuki (see here), appearing as no. 561 in his collected poems (Tsurayuki-shū). This is one of the later episodes to be added to the Tales and, with the one in Episode 75, only one of two poems by Tsurayuki. Episode 109 features a poem by his father, Ki no Mochiyuki.

  109

  First Mourned

  Episode 109 is based on the theme of friendship. The man sends a grief-filled poem to a close friend who has lost someone dear. This poem is included in the Kokinshū (no. 850), attributed to Ki no Mochiyuki, the father of Ki no Tsurayuki (see the commentary to the previous episode). The headnote states that it was ‘composed on seeing blossoms that had bloomed only after the death of the person who planted them’. For more on friends and friendship, see in particular Episodes 8–16 and here.

  110

  Bind Me with a Spell

  Episode 110 features a wonderful poem based on the commonly held belief that intense feelings of love could cause one’s spirit to leave the body and travel to one’s beloved. Poems were often composed about such love-inspired transmigration. The hero entreats a lady he has been subconsciously visiting in his sleep to ‘bind’ his spirit, should she see it wandering in the night, with an incantation to make the spirit return to his body. Such ‘spells’, or incantatory songs, were known as majinai uta. There is some debate as to whether the hero is seriously suggesting that his spirit would leave his body to visit the lady or whether, in fact, he is speaking metaphorically. Katagiri favours the latter view, and I agree with him. On seeing the image of one’s beloved, see also Episodes 21, 46, 54 and 63.

  111

  Coming Undone

  Episode 111 is one of two episodes that feature the undersash (shitahimo), which secured a lady’s undergarments, as the central image. The other one is Episode 37, where the image is used in a different way. According to Heian-period lore, when a woman was loved by someone, her undersash would loosen of its own accord.

  The hero exchanges poems with a high-ranking lady ‘under the pretence’ of consoling her on someone’s death, probably a relative of the lady or an attendant. This makes for a slightly odd combination of poems. In the first poem, the poet speaks of his love felt for a person he has not yet seen. While this could suggest the person who has just died, it actually alludes to the high-ranking lady. In the second poem, the lady replies that he could not really be in love with her, for her undersash has not even come undone. In his response to the second poem, the poet suggests that the undersash may soon loosen. It may seem strange to modern readers that mourning could be used as a means of courting, but sharing sadness, including in the exchange of poems, was regarded as an acceptable approach to love in the Heian period; there are also examples of it in The Tale of Genji.

  112

  Drifting Smoke

  Episode 112 contains a poem that appears in both the Kokinshū (no. 708) and the preface to it, and is regarded as an important example of an ‘allegorical poem’. Katagiri praises this episode highly because, although in the Kokinshū the poem has no headnote and the author is given as unknown, in this episode the prose introduction works splendidly with the poem to create a wonderfully concise tale. The reason the episode ultimately succeeds so well is that the poem itself is exemplary.

  In the poem, the hero laments the change of heart of a lady with whom he is in love. The ‘smoke from the salt-making fires’ refers to the process of boiling seawater to make salt. (See also Episode 87.) Here it is a metaphor for the fires burning in the lady’s heart, with the smoke drifting towards a different lover entirely.

  Suma: Suma (see Map 1) is part of present-day Kobe.

  113

  The Shortest Time

  Many episodes in the Tales (such as nos. 21, 60, 62 and 112) concern a woman who has left a man, and that is also the theme of this episode, which can be seen as a continuation of Episodes 111 and 112. The episode’s focus is the hero’s poem, in which he laments his lover’s change of heart. Some have suggested that the original poem is not about a woman who has changed her mind but, rather, about a parting caused by death. Both interpretations are possible.

  114

  The Crane’s Lament

  Episode 114 is another of the ‘venerable old man’ (okina) tales. It is important for two main reasons: it depicts the hero at an age when he feels too old to accompany the emperor (and so it is significantly placed in the last section of the Tales); and it shows the hero using his sleeve as an impromptu medium on which to write a poem. The other occasion on which Narihira writes on his robes is in the opening tale, in which the young hero, at the beginning of a life of great romance, dashes off a poem on a piece of his robe that he has torn off for the purpose. Here, he does so again, but in old age. This echo heightens the sense of pathos, as the hero writes once again on a piece of his robe, but this time on the theme of his own mortality.

  The hero is taken along on a trip by Emperor Koko to Serikawa (in present-day Fushimi-ku, Kyoto; see Map 3); his role is to handle the hawks. The poem that he writes offends the emperor, who is also elderly and takes the poem as referring to himself. Emperor Koko visited Serikawa in the winter of 886, but at that time the historical Narihira was already dead. This is yet another of the anachronisms within this work that remind us that the tale was intended to be read as fiction.

  Emperor Saga went hunting at Serikawa during every twelfth month of the lunisolar calendar, beginning in 810. During the reigns of Emperor Seiwa (858–76) and Emperor Yozei, hunting with hawks was discontinued because of Buddhist scruples about killing living things. Emperor Koko then revived hunting at Serikawa, using hawks in the traditional way, like Emperor Saga. There is an account in the Nihon sandai jitsuroku (True History of Three Reigns) of the imperial progress to Serikawa, but this is a fictional version of it.

  Though the poem is usually understood to be a lament – and has been interpreted as such here – it can also be read as a celebration of a special event. A crane is an auspicious symbol, and the word naku means ‘to sing’ as well as ‘to cry’. (See also commentary to Episode 123.) This is the view of Katagiri, who asserts that in the poem Narihira is praising the revival of hawking.

  This poem is also included in the Gosenshū (no. 1076), where it is attributed to Narihira’s elder brother, Yukihira. Yukihira was active after his brother’s death, until his own death in 893 at the age of seventy-six. This episode was probably reworked from this source around a central character who is assumed to be Narihira.

  115

  Burned by Live Coals

  One feature of Episode 115 is the clever wordplay on two place names in Michinoku (see below). A further point of interest is that, like Episode 14, also set in Michinoku, it features a man who decides to leave for the capital. Other tales of farewell are Episodes 44 and 48.

  In the poem, the woman grieves at parting from the man, her words words ‘Being burned by live coals’ (Oki-no-ite) forming a pun on the place name ‘Oki-no-ite’. There is a second pun on ‘Island of the Capital’ (Miyakoshima), where the lady must stay – unlike the man, who can go to the real capital (miyako).

  This poem is included in the Kokinshū (no. 1104), attributed to Ono no Komachi (see here), and this episode was presumably based on it.

  116

  Eaves on Waves

  Episode 116 is the last in the series depicting the journey to the east that began with Episode 7. (See also commentary to Episode 15.) It describes a man who has gone to Michinoku, where he composes a poem about being unable to see a lady at the capital for a very long time. At the time, Michinoku – also the setting for Episodes 14 and 115 – was the province furthest from the capital.

  The poem
is a good example of how rhetorical ornamentation functions in waka (see here for further detail). The poem simply states that it has been a long time since the poet has seen his beloved, the first two lines serving as a preface (jokotoba) with the function both of embellishing ‘How long since’ (hisashiku) and evoking the remoteness of the setting – ‘a hut on a tiny island shore’ – to underline the isolation felt by the hero. In the translation I have repeated some lines to convey a sense of the exquisite rhythm of the original. The repetition of the v sounds of ‘waves’ and ‘eaves’ reinforces this rhythm.

  A nearly identical poem is in the Man’yōshū (no. 2753), which suggests that the present episode was derived from it.

  117