Anthology of Japanese Literature/The Tales of Ise

by Ariwara no Narihira

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The Tales of Ise

[Ise Monogatari]

 

“The Tales of Ise” is basically a collection of verse, by the nobleman and poet Ariwara no Narihira (823–880), but each verse is preceded by a prose passage indicating the occasion of its composition. It contains 125 chapters, varying in length from a few lines to two or three pages, depending mainly on the number of poems included. Some of these poems are by other contemporaries—and even by “Man’yōshū” poets—but the majority are by Narihira, and the work was apparently edited and enlarged by an unknown compiler not long after his death. Although the hero of most of the episodes is identified in the original only as “a man,” the work in large part is clearly autobiographical. The arrangement of the chapters is, however, haphazard, and in the excerpts given in the present translations an attempt has been made to restore a chronological order.

•

In former times there lived a young nobleman named Narihira. Upon receiving the ceremony of initiation into manhood, he set forth upon a ceremonial falconry excursion, to review his estates at the village of Kasuga, near the former capital of Nara.

In that village there dwelt alone two young sisters possessed of a disturbing beauty. The young nobleman gazed at the two secretly from the shade of the enclosure around their house. It filled his heart with longing that in this rustic village he should have found so unexpectedly such lovely maidens. Removing the wide sleeve from the silk cloak he was wearing, Narihira inscribed a verse upon it and sent it to the girls. The cloak he was wearing bore a bold pattern of passionflowers.

Kasugano no Waka-murasaki no Surigoromo Shinobu no midare Kagiri shirerezu

Young maiden-flowers Of Kasuga, you dye my cloak; And wildly like them grows This passion in my heart, Abundantly, without end.

The maidens must have thought this eminently suited to the occasion, for it was composed in the same mood as the well-known

Michinoku no Shinobumojizuri Tare yue ni Midaresomenishi Ware naranaku ni

For whom has my heart Like the passionflower patterns Of Michinoku Been thrown into disarray? All on account of you.

This is the kind of facile elegance in which the men of old excelled.

(I)

• •

In former times there was a girl who, beloved of the Emperor Seiwa, served him in the court, and was allowed even to wear the Imperial purple. She was cousin to the Empress Dowager. Narihira was a very young man at this time. He too was serving in direct attendance upon the Emperor, and he fell in love and became intimate with this girl.

Now Narihira was allowed free access to the palace where the ladies of the court dwelt,^[1] and he would visit the chamber of this girl and sit directly beside her. But she entreated him, “If you come to see me thus, His Majesty will hear of it, and we shall perish. Please do not come this way again.”

Narihira answered her:

Omou ni wa Shinoburu koto zo	In love with you I have lost all sense of
Makenikeru Au ni shi kaeba Samo araba are	Hiding from men’s eyes. If in exchange for meeting you, Is death so great a price to pay?

When she returned to her own chamber after serving in the court, he would follow after her, without trying to hide his destination. The girl, much upset, returned to her native village.

Once at home, she thought that he would no longer trouble her; but Narihira was delighted at this turn of events, thinking this a wonderful way of meeting far from the sight of men. His visits to the girl were frequent, causing much merriment among her ladies-in-waiting. When he returned to the court in the early morning from the girl’s village, he would remove his shoes at the gate and place them among the footwear of those who had spent the night in the palace, taking care that the morning garden-sweepers did not observe him. Then he would go and wait attendance on the Emperor.

As thus he passed his days in stratagems, becoming more and more deeply involved in this dangerous love, his health began to fail. He wondered what escape there might be for him, and prayed to the gods and the Buddha that he be delivered from this fatal love. But the passion only grew upon him, and all his prayers served but to make him love her all the more.

Unable to drive her from his thoughts, he summoned exorcists and mediums, and had them set up by the Kamo River the divine symbols for deliverance from this love. However much he gave himself over to the chanting of the exorcists and dancers, he was never for an instant free from thoughts of her, and his passion instead became stronger even than before.

Koi seji to Mitarashigawa ni Seshi misogi Kami wa ukezu zo Narinikerashi mo

“Love not!” they chanted, By the river’s holy stream, Purifying me. But the gods listened not; It was all, it seems, for nought.

Thus he recited, and left the riverside.

Now the Emperor was a person of beautiful countenance, and every morning when the girl heard him raise his fine voice fervently and reverently in prayers to the Buddha, she wept bitterly. “What a tragic stroke of Fate that I cannot truly serve this noble sovereign! Tied by the bonds of love to another man, only endless grief can be my lot.”

It came to pass that His Majesty at last got word of the affair. He banished Narihira from the capital. As for the girl, her cousin the Empress Dowager had her expelled from the palace and locked up in a windowless tower in her village, and inflicted much torment on her.

Locked within the tower, the girl said in tears:

Ama no karu Mo ni sumu mushi no Warekara to Ne wo koso nakame Yo wo ba uramiji

Like the warekara[2] That lives among the seaweed Fisherwomen gather, I cry none is to blame but me: I have no hatred for the world.

Thus did she cry, and each night Narihira would journey from his place of banishment to her, and playing upon his flute with great feeling, sing a doleful plaint in his melodious voice. Though she was locked up in a windowless tower, she recognized her lover’s voice, but bound and tormented as she was there was no way to catch a glimpse of him.

Saritomo to Omouramu koso Kanashikere Aru ni mo aranu Mi wo shirazu shite

My heart breaks that He visits here each night In hopes of meeting me; Little does he realize How hopeless is my plight.

Unable, despite all efforts, to meet his love, Narihira traveled back and forth between the tower and his place of exile.

Itazura ni Yukite wa kinuru Mono yue ni Mimaku hoshisa ni Izanawaretsutsu

All in vain, I know, Are my goings and comings; So great, however, Is my desire to see her That I am ceaselessly drawn.

(LXV)

• •

In former times there lived a lady in East Gojō, in the Western Pavilion of the Empress Dowager’s palace. Narihira visited her there, at first with no specific intentions but later in great infatuation. About the tenth day of the first month, however, she concealed herself elsewhere. Although he heard where her refuge was, it was impossible for him to go to her, and he became increasingly depressed. In the first month of the following year, when the plum blossoms were in their full glory, he went again to the Western Pavilion, remembering with longing the happenings of the previous year. He stood and looked, sat and looked, but nothing seemed the same. Bitterly weeping, he lay on the deserted bare wooden floor until the moon sank in the sky. Recalling the happiness of the year before, he composed the poem:

Tsuki ya aranu Haru ya mukashi no Haru naranu Wa ga mi hitotsu wa Moto no mi ni shite

Is not that the moon? And is not the spring the same Spring of the old days? My body is the same body— Yet everything seems different.

(IV)

• •

In former times a certain lascivious woman thought: “I wish I could somehow meet a man who would show me affection!” It was, however, impossible for her to express this desire openly. She therefore made up a most unlikely dream, called her three sons together, and related it to them. Two of them dismissed it with a curt reply, but the youngest son interpreted the dream as meaning that a fine man would certainly come along, and the old woman was delighted.

The son thought: “Other men are coldhearted—I wish that I could bring her together with Captain Narihira.” One day he met the Captain while the latter was out hunting. He seized the bridle of the Captain’s horse and told him of his request. The Captain took pity on the old woman, visited her house, and slept with her. He did not come again, and the woman went to his house, where she stealthily looked at him through an opening in the fence. The Captain, catching a glimpse of her, recited:

Momotose ni Hitotose taranu Tsukumogami Ware wo kourashi Omokage ni miyu

Someone a year short Of a centenarian, Hair disheveled and white, Seems to be in love with me: I saw her in a vision!

When the woman saw him saddle his horse and prepare to leave, she rushed off in such great confusion that she was not even aware how the thorny shrubs and plants scratched her. She returned home, lay down on her sleeping mat, and waited for him. While the Captain stood outside secretly watching her, as she had done at his house, she recited:

Samushiro ni Koromo katashiki Koyoi mo ya Koishiki hito ni Awade wa ga nemu

Shall I have to sleep All alone again tonight On my narrow mat Unable to meet again The man for whom I long?

It is a general rule in this world that men love some women but not others. Narihira did not make such distinctions.

(LXIII)

• •

In former times there was a nobleman named Narihira. He was once sent by the Emperor as Imperial envoy to the Great Shrine of Ise.

On this occasion the Imperial Princess who was serving as Vestal Virgin to the Shrine received from her mother in the capital the following message: “You are to treat the present envoy with greater consideration than is usual.” Since this was her mother’s command, the Princess went to great pains: in the morning she herself directed the preparations for the ceremonial falconry, and in the evening, when Narihira returned, she lodged him in her own palace. She treated him with the utmost solicitude.

On the evening of the second day Narihira suggested that they meet in greater intimacy than they had previously done. The Princess was not displeased with the idea, but as there were many people about, it was impossible for the moment. In his capacity of Imperial envoy, however, Narihira had been lodged in the Princess’s own wing of the palace and, it being near to her own chamber, she came secretly to his quarters at midnight, after all were asleep.

Narihira likewise had been unable to sleep and, reclining in bed, had been gazing out the window. Just when the moon became subdued with clouds, the Princess appeared to him, with a little child in attendance on her. Narihira was filled with joy. He led the Princess to his bed, and she remained there with him until the third hour of the morning. Before they had time enough to reveal their feelings to each other, however, she was obliged to return to her own chamber.

Filled with melancholy, Narihira was unable to sleep. He longed to see her, but since it would be too apparent if he sent his own messenger, he could do nothing but await some word from her. A little after daybreak a messenger finally came from her. There was no letter, only the verse:

Kimi ya koshi Ware ya yukikemu Omohoezu Yume ka utsutsu ka Nete ka samete ka

I know not whether It was I who journeyed there Or you who came to me: Was it dream or reality? Was I sleeping or awake?

Narihira was greatly moved, and wept. He wrote in answer:

Kakikurasu Kokoro no yami ni Madoiniki Yume utsutsu to wa Koyoi sadame yo

Last night I too Wandered lost in the darkness Of a disturbed heart; Whether dream or reality Tonight let us decide!

After he sent this verse to her, he had to set forth on his official duties for the day. Yet even while he traveled through the moors, he could think of nothing but her, and he longed for the night to come swiftly, that they might meet again. Unfortunately, the governor of the province, who was also the guardian of the Vestal, learning that the Imperial envoy had arrived, insisted that the night be spent in festive celebration of his visit. Narihira, thus bound by enforced hospitality, could find no way to meet the Princess. Since he had the following morning to depart for Owari, unknown to anyone he shed bitter tears, but could in no wise meet her.

As dawn approached, a servant from the Princess’s apartment brought a cup of parting. In it was written:

Kachibito no Wataredo nurenu Eni shi areba

Shallow the inlet If the traveler wading it Is not even wetted[3]

The poem was not completed.

Narihira took the wine cup in his hands, and with charcoal from a pinewood torch he added the last lines to the verse:

Mata Ausaka no Seki wa koenamu

I shall cross again to you Over Meeting Barrier.

When day dawned he set out for the Province of Owari.

(LXIX)

• •

In former times when Narihira, having fallen ill, felt that he was going to die, he wrote this poem:

Tsui ni yuku Michi to wa kanete Kikishikado Kinō kyō to wa Omowazarishi wo

That it is a road Which some day we all travel I had heard before, Yet I never expected To take it so soon myself.

(CXXV)

Translated by Richard Lane (I, LXV, LXIX)
and F. Vos (IV, LXIII, CXXV)

1. Because of his youth he was permitted to frequent the ladies’ palace.
2. Warekara is at once the name of an insect that lives in seaweed and a word meaning “of itself” or “of its own will.”
3. A pun here between “inlet” and “connection” (eni). The reply has the usual play on the name Ausaka (Osaka), the name of a mountain and barrier east of Kyoto in which is imbedded the word au, “to meet.”