by Donald Keene
. .
Isshaku no A one-foot waterfall
taki mo oto shite it too makes noises, and at night
yūsuzumi the coolness of it all!
. .
Uguisu ya A bush warbler comes—
doroashi nuguu and starts to wipe his muddy feet
urne no hana among the blossoming plums.
. .
Tōyama no In its eye
medama ni utsuru the far-off hills are mirrored—
tombo kana dragonfly!
Asagao no A morning-glory vine
hana de fuitaru in its full bloom, has thatched
iori kana this hut of mine.
Utsukushi ya A lovely thing to see:
shdji no ana no through the paper window's holes
ama-no-gawa the Galaxy.
Ware to kite Come to me—with each other
asobe yo oya no let's play—little sparrow
nai suzume without any mother.
Furusato ya The place where I was born:
yoru mo sawaru mo all I come to—all I touch—
ibara no hana blossoms of the thorn!
Toshikasa wo When one is old
urayamaretaru one is envied by people—
samtisa kana oh, but it's cold!
Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828)
TRANSLATED BY HAROLD O. HENDERSON
WAKA OF THE TOKUGAWA PERIOD
Htku koto ni I played the koto—
Koe mo oshimanu Unbegrudging of its voice
Hototogisu A nightingale sang;
Kan ni taerane I could not check my feelings,
Ware mo oto ni naku I too cried with the music.
Toda Mosui (1629-1706)
. .
Ura ura to From the deep heart's core
Nodokeki haru no Of the spring serenity,
Kohpro yori Splendid, resplendent,
Nioi idetaru A perfume has arisen—
Yamazakura hana The mountain cherry blossoms!
Kamo no Mabuchi (1697-1769)
. .
Hito mina wa Everybody hates
Aki wo oshimeri To see the autumn go by.
Sono kokoro This feeling would seem
Sora ni kayoite To be shared by the heavens—
Shigurekemu bamo See how it is drizzling now!
Kaku kite wa I, as a stranger,
Mezurashimi kikedo Listen in wonderment, but
Kono nami no What of fishermen
Yo na yo na hibiku By whose huts night after night
Ama no fuseya wa Echoes the sound of the waves?
Tayasu Munetake (1715-1771)
. .
Hachi no ko ni In my begging bowl
Sumire tampopo Violets and dandelions
Kokimazete Are mixed together:
Sanze no hotoke ni These will be my offering
Tatematsuriten To the Buddhas of Three Worlds.
Kaze wa kiyoshi The wind is fresh,
Tsuki wa sayakeshi The moon pellucidly bright.
Iza tomo ni Come, then, together
Odoriakasan We'll spend the night in dancing,
Oi no nagori ni A final fling of old age!
Ryōokan (1757-1831)
TRANSLATED BY DONALD KEENE
Mountain Home
Wa ga yado wo Oh to have a home
Koko ni mo ga na to In such a quiet leafy spot,
Miyahobito Yearns the city man;
Ii no mi it te Yet he never builds a hut
Sumanu yamazato In mountain country.
Book
Itsu yori ka Open and forgotten
Hitrakenagara no Several hours by the window,
Mado no fumi The book was fingered
Kaze bakari koso Only by capricious winds.
Moteasobikere
Plum wind
Ka bakari to Fragrance alone, I thought,
Omoishi kaze ni Was the wind's burden,
Kesa yori wa But petals too
Hana mo majirite Are circling the plum garden.
Okuru umezono
Visitor on a late spring day
Kurehatsuru It were better not to call
Haru no yūbe no Than to leave me in the loneliness
Sabishiki ni Of the late spring afternoon.
Kaeraba towanu
Hito ya masaramu
Ōkuma Kotornichi (1798-1868)
TRANSLATED BY YUKUO UYEHARA AND MARJORIE SINCLAIR
The silver mine
Akahada no Stark naked, the men
Danshi mureite Stand together in clusters;
Aragane no Swinging great hammers
Marogari kudaku They smash into fragments
Tsuchi uchifurite The lumps of unwrought metal.
Solitary pleasures
Tanoshimi wa It is a pleasure
Kami wo hirogete When, spreading out some paper,
Toru fude no I take brush in hand
Omoi no hoka ni And write far more skilfully
Yoku kakeshi toki Than I could have expected.
Tanoshimi wa It is a pleasure
Momohi hineredo When, after a hundred days
Naranu uta no Of twisting my words
Futo omoshiroku Without success, suddenly
Idekinuru toki A poem turns out nicely.
Tanoshimi wa It is a pleasure
Asa 0kiidete When, rising in the morning
Kinō made I go outside and
Nakarishi hana no Find that a flower has bloomed
Sakeru miru toki That was not there yesterday.
Tanoshimi wa It is a pleasure
Mare ni uo nite When, a most infrequent treat,
Kora mina ga We've fish for dinner
Umashi umashi to And my children cry with joy
lite kuu toki "Yum-yum!" and gobble it down.
Tanoshimi wa It is a pleasure
Sozoro yomiyuka When, in a book which by chance
Fumi no naka ni I am perusing,
Ware to hitoshiki I come on a character
Hito wo mishi toki Who is exactly like me.
Tanoshimi wa It is a pleasure
Yo ni to kigataka When, without receiving help,
Suru fumi no I can understand
Kokaro wo hitori The meaning of a volume
Satorieshi toki Reputed most difficult.
Tanoshimi wa It is a pleasure
Ebisu yorokabu When, in these days of delight
Yo no naka ni In all things foreign,
Mikani wasurenu I come across a man who
Hito wo miru toki Does not forget our Empire.
Tachibana Akemi (1812-1868)
TRANSLATED BY DONALD KEENE
POETRY AND PROSE IN CHINESE
Longing to attack the southern barbarians
[Directed against the Spanish and Portuguese soldiers and missionaries, who had arrived in Japan from the south.]
False religions delude the land with a ceaseless clamor.
I would strike the barbarian tribes, but the time comes not.
When will the great roc rise and southward soar?
Long have I waited the wind of his ten-thousand-mile wings.
Date Masamune (1567-1636)
The rainy season
How many days of spring rain since I have seen the sun?
Yet I delight in the new pools that shine before my porch.
Last year the burning drought continued through the fall.
Even in river towns I heard the water-seller's cry.
Kan Sazan (1748-1827)
Dutch ships (1818)
In Nagasaki Bay, where sky and sea meet to the west,
At heaven's edge a little dot appears.
The cannon of the lookout tower sounds once;
In twenty-five watch stations, bows are bared.
Through the streets on all sides the cry breaks forth:
"The redhaired Westerners are coming!"
Launches set out to meet their ship, we hear the drums echo;
In the distance signal flags are raised to stay
alarm.
The ship enters the harbor, a ponderous turtle,
So huge that in the shallows it seems sure to ground.
Our little launches, like strung pearls,
Tow it forward amid a clamorous din.
The barbarian hull rises a hundred feet above the sea,
The sighing wind flapping its banners of felt.
Three sails fly amid a thousand lines,
Fixed to engines moving up and down like well-sweeps.
Blackskinned slaves,1 nimbler than monkeys,
Scale the masts and haul on the lines.
The anchor drops with shouts from the crew;
Huge cannon bellow forth again and again their roar.
The barbarian heart is hard to fathom; the Throne ponders
And dares not relax its armed defense.
Alas, wretches, why come they to vex our anxious eyes,
Pursuing countless miles in their greed what gain?
Their ships pitiful leaves upon the monstrous waves,
Crawling like gigantic ants after rancid meat.
Do we not bear ox-knives to kill but a chicken,
Trade our most lovely jewels for thorns?2
Rai Sanyō (1780-1832)
Weeping for Tatsuzō: today spring ended
[On the death of his small son.]
Spring is gone, the boy is gone;
Two griefs this day.
Spring returns.
And this dead child?
Flowers of illusion one moment bewitch the eye—
How toys the crafty Creator with men!
Next year in the eastern fields when I search the paths of spring,
Who will carry the wine gourd and follow the old man?
Rai Sanyō
Hearing of the earthquake in Kyoto (1830)
By post news trom the capital, terrible beyond recall:
"This month, the second day, earthquakes from dusk to dawn.
Seven days and nights the tremors, until the earth must sunder.
We beseech in tears the sky.
Of ten houses nine destroyed;
Families cower in the streets as roof tiles shower down. . ."
Of my home no word.
Dumbly I scratch my head and gaze
East toward my home on the Kamo banks:
The youngest clinging to my frail wife,
They flee to the river sands,
Fearful for the abandoned house,
While stone embankments topple,
Laying the willow roots bare.
Through deep tides to distant flats
Which way escape?
The eldest boy wades the stream,
The youngest on his nurse's back.
From the nest upturned though the eggs be spared,
The mother sickens with care, bearing alone a family's burden.
How can I face you again?
I speed this letter back,
And wait an answer that may never come.
Your death or life unknown,
In this chaos whom shall I entreat?
When dread fate crushes the multitudes,
How can I ask of him or her? . . .
I watch the clouds hurrying north.
Dragons of the sea-rain howl as,
Trembling in dark fear,
I beat out the bars of this long dirge.
Rai Sanyō
No title
[An attach on the Shogunate]
You, whose ancestors in the mighty days
Roared at the skies and swept across the earth,
Stand now helpless to drive off wrangling foreigners—
How empty your title, "Queller of Barbarians"!
Yanagawa Seigan (1789-1858)
A song of history: Peter the Great
He pushed back the eastern borders three thousand miles,
Learned the Dutch science and taught it to his people.
Idly we sit talking of our long dead heroes—
In a hundred years have we bred such a man?
Sahuma Shōzan (1811-1864)
On hearing that the port of Shimoda has been opened to the foreigners
For seven miles by the river hills the dogs and sheep forage.3
The hues of spring visit the wastes of quake-ridden earth.
Only the cherry blossoms take not on the rank barbarian stench,
But breathe to the morning sun the fragrance of a nation's soul.
Gesshō (1817-1858)
In prison
I sought to drive back the clouds, with these hands sweep clear the evil stars,
But the ground beneath me faltered, I plunged to Edo Prison.
Idiot frogs fret at the bottom of their well;
The brilliance of the great moon falters on the horizon.4
I await the death sentence; from home no news.
In my dreams, the ring of swords; I slash at sea monsters.
When the wind and rain of many years have cloaked my stone in moss,
Who will remember this mad man of Japan?
Rai Mikisaturō (1825-1859)
TRANSLATED BY BURTON WATSON
THE BIOGRAPHY OF SNOWFLAKE
Rai Sanyō wrote this biography of Snow flake (Oyuki), a character famed in Osaka song and story, at the request of a friend who had come into the possession of a collection of her poems. Snow flake died about 1803.
Snowflake was a lady swashbuckler of Osaka. It was in Osaka that General Hideyoshi built his fortress, and it remains a city of spirited and prodigal people who love to affect a rough and ready manner. Many citizens of Osaka have made names for themselves as cavaliers, but Snowflake was the only woman among them. She was the daughter of the mistress of a wealthy merchant, but from an early ige was brought up by the Miyoshi family, who were also rich tradesmen. The Miyoshi family adopted a son whom they wished to marry to Snowflake, but she despised the boy as a puny weakling, and would have none of it. At this time she took a vow never to marry. When her foster father died, she inherited the estate.
By nature Snowflake was of a high-spirited, gallant disposition. She devoted little attention to business affairs, but studied instead calligraphy and painting with the Master of the Willow Stream Garden, and took lessons in swordsmanship and judo. She was pale, large, and portly, with great strength in her limbs. Two women attendants named Tortoise (Okame) and Mountain Peak (Oiwa)—both of whom were very strong and brave—constantly followed Snowflake about. At this time she had just turned sixteen, and her two companions were likewise in the bloom of their beauty. Young idlers and ruffians meeting them on the street would often tease the girls and challenge them to a battle. At such times Snowflake would glance meaningfully at her attendants, and they would thereupon knock the boys to the ground, often so hard that they could not get up again.
The place called Snake Hill in the southern suburbs was at this time very wild and deserted, and even in the daytime no one dared walk there. Snowflake once took a short cut through the spot when two robbers came upon her and tried to seize her sash, but she knocked them flat. In no time the story got around, and everyone stayed out of her way.
Snowflake, not having a husband, was ambitious to become a lady-in-waiting and to be admitted to the inner palace. Her excellent calligraphy won her a post as clerk in the palace for five years, where she was engaged in recording past events of the court. When she gave up this post, she shaved her head and became a nun, living in the Moon River Temple next door to the Temple of the Heavenly Kings. Snowflake always wore white clerical robes, but continued as before to go wandering about with her female companions.
Once when the temple was having an unveiling of the inner shrine and a great crowd of men and women had come to worship, it suddenly began to rain. Snowflake immediately bought over a thousand umbrellas which she distributed, one to a person. On the occasion of another great ceremony at the temple, she bade the priest in charge of music to have the ceremony performed with the utmost splendor. When someone asked her the r
eason, she replied, "Today is the two hundredth anniversary of the death of my ancestor, Prime Minister Hidetsugu!" She also presented secretly a sum of money to the Hōkō Temple, asking that it be used as a personal offering to the spirit of General Hideyoshi. She was always giving herself such absurd airs.
Her fortune eventually ran out, and she built a litde house in the village of Namba where she lived out the rest of her days. She bought a coffin and hung it up by the gate, and spent all day drinking with her friends nearby. One day she went out in the hot sun and dropped dead in the street. The villagers, recognizing her, carried her body into the shop where she had always bought her wine, and rushed off to inform her household. Her corpse was prepared and then laid away in the coffin. They buried her at the Temple of the Secret Spring in Namba. She was seventy-five when she died. A marker carved like snowflakes was set up for her, along with stones in the shape of a tortoise and a mountain peak, which are still there. For this reason people say that her two companions were buried with her.
The story of Snowflake cannot, of course, be taken as a model of conduct. But in her time there were women who conducted themselves like men, while today we see only men who behave as women. I have hoped herein to divine the rise and fall of Fortune and to elicit, perhaps, a sigh.
TRANSLATED BY BURTON WATSON
Footnotes
1 Javanese servants of the Dutch.
2 I.e., are not all the alarms and defense measures of the government unnecessary, and are we not losing by trading with the foreigners?
3 To many Japanese of this period the meat-eating Westerners were no more than reeking animals. The author was a Buddhist priest.
4 The frogs refer to the shortsighted statesmen of the Shogunate; the moon to the powerless Emperor in Kyoto.
SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY
GENERAL WORKS
Aston, W. G. A History of Japanese Literature. London, 1899.
Beni, Oscar. Die Entwickjung der japanischen Poetik. Hamburg, 1951.
Bonneau, Georges. Anthologie de la poésie japonaise. Paris, 1935.
_____. L'expression poétique dans le folk-lore japonais. Paris, 1933.
Bowers, Faubion. Japanese theatre. New York, 1952.
Florenz, Karl. Geschichte der japanischen Litteratur. Leipzig, 1905.
