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Anthology of Japanese Literature/Shinkokinshū

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Anthology of Japanese Literature
edited by Donald Keene
Shinkokinshū
4409955Anthology of Japanese Literature — ShinkokinshūDonald Keene

SHINKOKINSHŪ

The “Shinkokinshū,” or “New Collection of Ancient and Modern Poems,” was the eighth of the anthologies of Japanese poetry compiled by Imperial order. It was completed in 1205 by a committee headed by the celebrated Fujiwara no Teia (1162–1241), the leading figure in the world of letters of his day. The Emperor Gotoba,[1] who ordered the compilation, took an active interest in the “Shinkokinshū” and worked on it while in exile on the island of Oki.

The “Shinkokinshū” is often considered to be the greatest Japanese collection after the “Man’yōshū.” It is known particularly for the craftsmanship displayed by its poets, although this same quality has been denounced by some critics as “artificiality.” The attempt of its poets was to fill the elegantly wrought framework of their verses with content as poignant and moving as possible. With such poets as Saigyō (1118–1190) new heights in Japanese poetry were thereby reached. Needless to say, however, the technical perfection of the “Shinkokinshū” poems is largely lost in translation.

Murasame no
Tsuyu mo mada hinu
Maki no ha ni
Kiri tachinoboru
Aki no yūgure

The hanging raindrops
Have not dried from the needles
Of the fir forest
Before the evening mist
Of autumn rises.

The Priest Jakuren (died 1202)
TRANSLATED BY KENNETH REXROTH

· ·

Sayo chidori
Koe koso chikaku
Narumi-gata
Katabuku tsuki ni
Shio ya mitsuramu

The cries of the night
Sanderlings draw closer
To Narumi Beach;
As the moon sinks in the sky
The tide rises to the full.

Shōsammi Sueyoshi

· ·

Katami to te
Hono fumi wakeshi
Ato mo nashi
Kishi wa mukashi no
Niwa no ogiwara

Nothing whatsoever
Remains of you in this grass
We once used to tread;
How long ago it was we came—
The garden now is a wilderness.

Fujiwara no Yasusue

· ·

Hana wa chiri
Sono iro to naku
Nagamureba
Munashiki sora ni
Harusame zo furu

The blossoms have fallen.
I stare blankly at a world
Bereft of color:
In the wide vacant sky
The spring rains are falling.

Princess Shikushi (died 1201)

· ·

Hakanakute
Suginishi kata wo
Kazōreba
Hana ni mono omou
Haru zo henikeru

When I tell over
The years of a past spent in
Empty promises,
How many springs have gone by
Lamenting with the blossoms!

Princess Shikushi

· ·

Omoiamari
Sonata no sora wo
Nagamureba
Kasumi wo wakete
Harusame zo furu

When I stare off
At the far sky where you are,
In excess of grief,
Filtering through the mists
The spring rains are falling.

Fujiwara no Shunzei (1114–1204)

· ·

Uchishimeri
Ayame zo kaoru
Hototogisu
Naku ya satsuki no
Ame no yūgure

The irises,
Their petals damp, are fragrant.
Listen! The cuckoos
Are calling now, this rainy
Evening in May.

Fujiwara no Yoshitsune (1169–1206)

· ·

Ima komu to
Chigirishi koto wa
Yume nagara
Mishi yo ni nitaru
Ariake no tsuki

He promised me then
He would come to me at once—
That was in a dream:
And yet the moon at daybreak
Looked as it did the night we met.

Minamoto no Michitomo (1171–1227)

· ·

Haru no yo no
Yume no ukihashi
Todae shite
Mine ni wakaruru
Yokogumo no sora

When the floating bridge
Of the dream of a spring night
Was snapped, I awoke:
In the sky a bank of clouds
Was drawing away from the peak.

Fujiwara no Teika

· ·

Wasureji no
Yukusue made wa
Katakereba
Kyō wo kagiri no
Inochi to mo gana

It will be hard
To keep forever the vow
Never to forget—
Would today could be the limit,
And with it see our lives expire!

The Mother of Gidō Sanji

· ·

Wasureji to
Iishi bakari no
Nagori to te
Sono yo no tsuki wa
Meguru kinikeri

You said you would not
Forget me—those were but words;
All that still remains
Is the moon which shone that night
And now has come again.

Fujiwara no Ariie (1155–1216)

· ·

Sabishisa wa
Sono iro to shi mo
Nakarikeri
Maki tatsu yama no
Aki no yūgure

Loneliness does not
Originate in any one
Particular thing:
Evening in autumn over
The black pines of the mountain.

The Priest Jakuren

· ·

Kokoro naki
Mi ni mo aware wa
Shirarekeri
Shigi tatsu sawa no
Aki no yūgure

Even to someone
Free of passions[2] this sadness
Would be apparent:
Evening in autumn over
A marsh where a snipe rises.

Saigyō

· ·

Miwataseba
Hana mo momiji mo
Nakarikeri
Ura no tomaya no
Aki no yūgure

In this wide landscape
I see no cherry blossoms
And no crimson leaves—[3]
Evening in autumn over
A straw-thatched hut by the bay.

Fujiwara no Teika

· ·

Furuhata no
Soba no tatsu ki ni
Iru hato no
Tomo yobu koe no
Sugoki yūgure

In a tree standing
Beside a desolate field,
The voice of a dove
Calling to its companions—
Lonely, terrible evening.

Saigyō

· ·

Toshi takete
Mata koyubeshi to
Omoiki ya
Inochi narikeri
Sayo no Nakayama

Did I ever dream
I should pass this way again
As an old man?
I have lived such a long time—
Nakayama of the Night.[4]

Saigyō

· ·

Haruka naru
Iwa no hazama ni
Hitori ite
Hito me omowade
Mono omowabaya

Living all alone
In this space between the rocks
Far from the city,
Here, where no one can see me,
I shall give myself to grief.

Saigyō
TRANSLATED BY DONALD KEENE

  1. See page 242.
  2. Meaning here a monk.
  3. Cherry blossoms and crimson leaves were the conventionally admired natural objects of spring and autumn respectively.
  4. A place name famous in poetry; such common place names as Nakayama were often identified as here by some descriptive term. See also page 249.