Tangled Hair/Tangled Hair
Tangled Hair
Like a sonnet sequence
in the West, Japanese short poems
frequently come in sequence, but each poem
should be considered as independent. Each of the
short poems following, through page 51,
is set apart by an ornament to indicate
that it is actually independent,
though grouped with others
under a common title
Tangled Hair
In a dream one sweet spring night,
I mistook the breaking of my hair
Over my pillow
For the sound of a harp-string.
As my tangled hair
Unwittingly touched the strings,
The harp that had been still
For three long spring months,
Sounded a note.
Not knowing love,
I sought beauty in the gods.
But today I see in you
The beauty of heaven and earth.
Tarry a while, O God of Night!
If thy kingdom be far,
I shall send thee home
In the cup of my lip rouge.
I shall catch the horse
Which the God of Night
Rides back in the morn,
And hide him under my little pillow.
The morning after our amour
While I make my toilette,
O nightingale of the hills,
Come and sing to my love.
Come and see me
When, with the pool as a mirror
And a large comb of jade,
I comb out my hair.
The purple shadow
Fell on the grass
As I combed my hair
In the morning breeze of the spring.
Oh, for the sea
Where, in the house of my parents,
I grew up a maiden,
Counting the distant roars of the tides!
On this lovely spring eve
The Holy Sûtra is bitter to my mouth.
O Bodhisattvas of the Inner Shrine,
Pray, accept my song!
On a late spring evening,
At the reading of the Holy Sûtra
In the Inner Shrine,
Cherry blossoms are falling
On my sister and Bodhisattvas.
Dimming the light in the arbor,
We each wrote out our thoughts
On the fragile lotus leaves.
At the note of a flute
He paused a moment
In his copying of the Lotus Sûtra
And knitted his brow.
Oh, that youthful brow!
You, sir, who preach the Way
Without ever touching
The warm blood of supple flesh—
Are you, are you not lonely?
Have you no aroused desire?
No wish to feel and dream with her?
To what her fiery lips reveal
Are your dull eyes forever blind?
The clear water, overflowing,
Alas, became impure.
Thou art the son of iniquity,
And I the daughter.