Conclusion
One of the great strengths of classical Japanese waka poetry is that it can express deep emotion and refinement of sensibility in images of profound simplicity, and the One Hundred Poets is an exemplary work in this regard. Its poems contain rich and original images that still seem fresh a thousand years later. The collection shows how Teika defined himself in relation to the poetic tradition that he both inherited and promulgated. According to Emperor Gotoba, Teika was dictatorial in all matters relating to poetry and editing, but eight hundred years of history have consistently proved his judgements right.
Although it is impossible to state unequivocally the work’s overarching editorial principles, this should not become a hindrance to the appreciation of the individual poems. The One Hundred Poets remains first and foremost a collection of one hundred great poems and so it should be regarded. The primary aim in this book is to provide an enjoyable and poetic translation, and I hope that readers will find in these pages something of the depth and beauty of the original magical collection, which is notable for the great subtlety and allusiveness of the poems, their incomparable visual imagery and the profound emotion that they express.
Haiku is widely known in the West, but it originally developed from waka. Haiku, a relatively recent word, was originally known as hokku and was the opening stanza in Japanese linked verse, renga. Haiku came into being when the opening stanza came to exist independently from the rest of the linked verse. Formally, it is the equivalent of the upper strophe of waka, namely having seventeen syllables of 5-7-5. Though haiku developed in a completely different way to waka, a study of Japanese waka can help readers in understanding more about haiku and how to write it. When Shunzei noted, ‘All who come to our land study this poetry; all who live in our land compose it’, he was speaking of waka not haiku.6 Thus, if one wants to understand the heart of the Japanese it could be argued that it is found not only in haiku, but also − or even more − in waka.
Towards the end of working on this translation, I accompanied the translator and scholar Eileen Kato on a pilgrimage to Kyoto to visit places connected with One Hundred Poets. We visited the ruins of the legendary Shiguretei in Nisonin, where Teika is said to have completed his editing of the collection in the little hut at the foot of Mount Ogura, which gave the work the name by which it is commonly known in Japan, the Ogura hyakunin isshu. We also visited the site of what is held to be the grave of Teika in Shokukuji. He lies alongside two other great figures, the Muromachi patron of the arts Ashikaga Yoshimasa (1436–90) and the artist Ito Jakuchu (1716–1800). We placed a small bunch of white chrysanthemums on the grave in honour of Teika’s love of the colour white. At the time, I remember thinking of the extraordinary power of literature. More than six centuries after the death of Teika, two people from the other side of the world more than six thousand miles away were paying homage to this outstanding poet and editor. Great literature knows no barriers in time or distance. I hope the readers of this translation will gain a sense of the power and beauty of these poems and even be moved to return to the originals. And, as I happily discovered myself, I can end with one recommendation: if you want to understand the Japanese, read the One Hundred Poets.
NOTES
1. The card game consists of two hundred cards divided into two sets, one with the complete poems, which are called the yomifuda (cards to be read out), and one with only the last lines of the poems, the torifuda (cards to grab), which are placed face up on the card table. When the yomifuda are read out, the players have to find the torifuda with the last lines of the relevant poems as quickly as possible and snap them up. The person with the most cards at the end is the winner. The game has been played since the Edo period, and is still played every New Year by around a million people in Japan. At the time of writing, I am also creating the world’s first English-language version of the card game, with the tentative title of Whack a Waka. Indeed, one of the motivations behind the creation of the new translation of the poems – with five lines each – was to make a version suitable for the card game.
2. Teika quoted this himself in his revised Shūigūsō (Dull Musings of a Chamberlain; written after 1216): ‘Everyone said I wrote “faddish, groundless Zen-nonsense poems” and abandoned me.’
3. Known as ‘Shunzei’s Daughter’, she was in fact Shunzei’s granddaughter and therefore Teika’s niece.
4. Konishi Jin’ichi, ‘Association and Progression: Principles of Integration in Anthologies and Sequences of Japanese Court Poetry, A.D. 900–1350’, Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, vol. 21 (December 1958), pp. 67–127.
5. The table here is just to give a general idea of the main poetic categories and their distribution throughout the collection. Precise categorization of the poems is a matter of debate. For example, the number of love poems varies depending on whether we count them as they were originally categorized or whether we simply judge them to be love poems from a Western point of view. And some poems can belong to two categories simultaneously, such as poem 91, which, as the commentary to it indicates, was initially regarded as belonging to autumn, but which may also be counted as a love poem.
6. Shunzei, Korai fūteishō (1197–1201), a treatise on poetry writing and the history of waka. Adapted here from Eileen Kato (trans.), ‘Pilgrimage to Dazaifu: Sōgi’s Tsukushi no Michi no Ki’, Monumenta Nipponica, vol. 34, no. 3 (Autumn 1979), pp. 333–67, at p. 364.
1. Emperor Tenji
In this makeshift hut
in the autumn field
gaps in the thatch
let dewdrops in,
moistening my sleeves.
2. Empress Jito
Spring has passed,
and the white robes of summer
are being aired
on fragrant Mount Kagu –
beloved of the gods.
3. Kakinomoto no Hitomaro
The
long
tail
of
the
copper
pheasant
trails,
drags
on
and
on
like
this
long
night
alone
in
the
lonely
mountains,
longing
for
my
love.
4. Yamabe no Akahito
Coming out on the Bay of Tago,
there before me,
Mount Fuji –
snow still falling on her peak,
a splendid cloak of white.
5. Sarumaru Taifu
In the deep mountains
making a path
through the fallen leaves,
the plaintive belling of the stag –
how forlorn the autumn feels.
6. Otomo no Yakamochi
How the night deepens.
A ribbon of the whitest frost
is stretched across
the bridge of magpie wings
the lovers will cross.
7. Abe no Nakamaro
I gaze up at the sky and wonder:
is that the same moon
that shone over Mount Mikasa
at Kasuga
all those years ago?
8. Priest Kisen
I live alone in a simple hut
south-east of the capital,
but people speak of me as one
who fled the sorrows of the world
only to end up on the Hill of Sorrow.
9. Ono no Komachi
I have loved in vain
and now my beauty fades
like these cherry blossoms
paling in the long rains of spring
that I gaze upon alone.
10. Semimaru
So this is the place!
Crowds,
coming
going
meeting
parting,
those known,
unknown –
the Gate of Meeting Hill.
11. Ono no Takamura
Fishing boats upon the sea,
tell whoever asks
that I have sailed away,
out past countless islets
to the vast ocean beyond.
12. Archbishop Henjo
Breezes of Heaven, blow closed
the pathway through the clouds
to keep a little longer
these heavenly dancers
from returning home.
13. Retired Emperor Yozei
Just as the Minano River
surges from the peak
of Mount Tsukuba,
so my love cascades
to make deep pools.
14. Minamoto no Toru
My heart’s as tangled
as the wild fern patterns
of Michinoku’s Shinobu cloth.
Since it is not my fault,
whom should I blame for this?
15. Emperor Koko
For you,
I came out to the fields
to pick the first spring greens.
All the while, on my sleeves
a light snow falling.
16. Ariwara no Yukihira
Though I may leave
for Mount Inaba,
whose peak is covered with pines,
if I hear that you pine for me,
I will come straight home to you.
17. Ariwara no Narihira
Such beauty unheard of
even in the age of the raging gods –
the Tatsuta River
tie-dyeing its waters
in autumnal colours.
18. Fujiwara no Toshiyuki
Unlike the waves that approach
the shores of Sumiyoshi Bay,
why do you avoid the eyes of others,
refusing to approach me –
even on the path of dreams?
19. Lady Ise
Are you saying, for even a moment
short as the space
between the nodes on a reed
from Naniwa Inlet,
we should never meet again?
20. Prince Motoyoshi
I’m so desperate, it’s all the same.
Like the channel markers of Naniwa
whose name means ‘self-sacrifice’,
let me give up my life
to see you once again.
21. Priest Sosei
As you said, ‘I’m coming right away,’
I waited for you
through the long autumn night,
but only the moon greeted me
at the cold light of dawn.
22. Fun’ya no Yasuhide
In autumn the wind has only to blow
for leaves and grasses to perish.
That must be why the characters
‘mountain’ and ‘wind’
together mean ‘gale’.
23. Oe no Chisato
Thoughts of a thousand things
fill me with melancholy
as I gaze upon the moon,
but autumn’s dejection
comes not to me alone.
24. Sugawara no Michizane
On this journey
I have no streamers to offer up.
Instead, dear gods, if it pleases you,
may you take this maple brocade
of Mount Tamuke’s colours.
25. Fujiwara no Sadakata
If the ‘sleep-together vine’
that grows on Meeting Hill
is true to its name,
I will entwine you in my arms,
unknown to anyone.
26. Fujiwara no Tadahira
Dear Maples of Mount Ogura,
if you have a heart,
please wait for another visit
so that His Majesty may enjoy
your lovely autumn colours.
27. Fujiwara no Kanesuke
When did you first spring into view?
Like the Field of Jars
divided by the River of Springs,
I am split in two – so deeply flows
the river of my love for you.
28. Minamoto no Muneyuki
In my mountain abode
it is winter
that feels loneliest –
both grasses and visitors
dry up.
29. Oshikochi no Mitsune
To pluck a stem
I shall have to guess,
for I cannot tell apart
white chrysanthemums
from the first frost.
30. Mibu no Tadamine
How cold the face
of the morning moon!
Since we parted
nothing is so miserable
as the approaching dawn.
31. Sakanoue no Korenori
Beloved Yoshino –
I was sure you were bathed
in the moonlight of dawn,
but it’s a soft falling of snow
that mantles you in white.
32. Harumichi no Tsuraki
The weir that the wind
has flung across
the mountain brook
is made of autumn’s
richly coloured leaves.
33. Ki no Tomonori
Cherry Blossoms,
on this calm, lambent
day of spring,
why do you scatter
with such unquiet hearts?
34. Fujiwara no Okikaze
Of those I loved, none are left.
Only the aged pine
of Takasago
has my years, but, alas,
he is not an old friend of mine.
35. Ki no Tsurayuki
your feelings may have changed,
but at least in my old home
the plum blossoms bloom as always
with a fragrance of the past.
36. Kiyohara no Fukayabu
On this summer night,
when twilight has so quickly
become the dawn,
where is the moon at rest
among the clouds?
37. Fun’ya no Asayasu
When the wind gusts
over the autumn fields,
white dewdrops
lie strewn about
like scattered pearls.
38. Ukon
Though you have forgotten me,
I do not worry about myself,
but how I fear for you,
as you swore before the gods
of your undying love.
39. Minamoto no Hitoshi
I try to conceal my feelings,
but they are too much to bear –
like reeds hidden in the low bamboo
of this desolate plain.
Why do I love you so?
40. Taira no Kanemori
Though I try to keep it secret,
my deep love shows
in the blush on my face.
Others keep asking me –
‘Who are you thinking of?’
41. Mibu no Tadami
I had hoped to keep secret
feelings that had begun to stir
within my heart,
but already rumours are rife
that I am in love with you.
42. Kiyohara no Motosuke
Wringing tears from our sleeves,
did we not pledge never to part,
not even if the waves engulfed
the Mount of Forever-Green Pines –
what caused such a change of heart?
43. Fujiwara no Atsutada
When I compare my heart
from before we met
to after we made love,
I know I had not yet grasped
the pain of loving you.
44. Fujiwara no Asatada
If we had never met,
I woul
d not so much resent
your being cold to me
or how I’ve come to hate myself
because I love you so.
45. Fujiwara no Koremasa
‘I feel so sorry for you.’
No one comes to mind
who would say that to me,
so I will surely die alone
of a broken heart.
46. Sone no Yoshitada
Crossing the Bay of Yura
the boatman loses the rudder.
The boat is adrift,
not knowing where it goes.
Is the course of love like this?
47. Priest Egyō
How lonely this villa
has become, overgrown
with vines and weeds.
No one visits me –
only autumn comes.
48. Minamoto no Shigeyuki
Blown by the fierce winds,