Omar Khayyam, Ten Quatrains (Persia, 11th c.)

Ten Quatrains by Omar Khayyam

tr. Edward Fitzgerald

(1)
I.
WAKE! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes
The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.

(2)
XXI.
Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears:
To-morrow—Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.

(3)
XII.
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

(4)
LXXIV.
YESTERDAY This Day's Madness did prepare;
TO-MORROW's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you not know whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

(5)
LXXI.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.



(6)
XXXVII.
For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all-obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd—"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!

(7)
LXXII.
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help—for It
As impotently moves as you or I.

(8)
VII.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly—and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

(9)
XCVI.
Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the branches sang,
Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

(10)
C.
Yon rising Moon that looks for us again—
How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;
How oft hereafter rising look for us
Through this same Garden—and for one in vain!

[The Ruba'iyat of Omar Khayyam -
facsimile of the manuscript in the Bodleian Library at Oxford]

Omar (Umar) Khayyam (1048-1131) was a polymath, scientist, philosopher, and poet, born in Nishapur, in northeastern Iran, a leading metropolis in Khorasan during medieval times that reached its zenith of prosperity in the eleventh century under the Seljuq dynasty. His significance in the annals of Islamic intellectual tradition is due to his Rubaiyat (quatrains) and his studies in the field of mathematics. It has often been assumed that his forebears followed the trade of tent-making, since Khayyam means "tent-maker" in Arabic. In his Rubaiyat, Khayyam casts doubt on almost every facet of religious belief, and advocates the drinking of wine.

Scholars have noted that no specific quatrains can confidently be attributed to Omar Khayyam. He certainly may have written quatrains, but then possibly more as an amusement of his leisure hours than as serious poetry. Hundreds of quatrains have been ascribed to him, but it is impossible to disentangle authentic from spurious ones. This is comparable to the Hanshan poems in China, where a corpus sharing similar themes and images also grew exponentially.

Thanks to the popularity of the English translation by Edward Fitzgerald (1859-1889), Omar Khayyam has received popular fame in the modern period. Fitzgerald's Rubaiyat contains loose translations ("renditions") of quatrains from the Bodleian manuscript. It enjoyed great success in the fin de siècle period. I have checked out other translations, old and modern, but Omar Khayyam and Edward Fitzgerald have merged - any other translation sounds wrong and it seems that Fitzgerald has best caught the intentions of the poet.

The Rubaiyat in translation has influenced many other media. I mention here only classical music. The British composer Granville Bantock has produced a choral setting of Fitzgerald's translation (1906-09), a long work for large orchestra, chorus and soloists in a rather heavy, late-Victorian style. It is also quite long as Bantock includes the whole book. I prefer the version by the Armenian-American composer Alan Hovhaness, who set a dozen of the quatrains to music. This work, The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, Op. 308 (1975), calls for narrator, orchestra, and solo accordion. The quatrains are narrated, not sung, and the music mostly plays in the intervals between the poems. With an eccentric accordion, and small orchestra, it succeeds very well in invoking Omar Khayyam's world.

[Mausoleum of Omar Khayyam in Nishapur, Iran]

The translations quoted above are by Edward Fitzgerald (the 5th edition of 1889). This translation is in the public domain.

Photos public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Lyric Poetry Around the World Index

Reading The Tale of Genji (11): Falling Flowers (Hanachirusato)

"Hanachirusato" is literally "a village where flowers fall." Genji visits a woman in this village and gives her a poem in which this phrase occurs. The chapter "Falling Flowers" takes place in roughly the same period covered by the previous one, "The Green Branch." It takes place in the 5th month and Genji is 25 years old. This is a very short chapter.

[Painted album leaf 'Hanachirusato" by Tosa Mitsunobu (1469-1522), Harvard Museum]

Genji is discouraged by the course his life is taking - his great love, Fujitsubo, has suddenly become a nun and is inaccessible. During the Rainy Season in the 5th month (our June) - when there is a break in the rains - Genji recalls the younger sister of Lady Reikeiden (Reikeiden no Nyogo), a minor consort of his father, Emperor Kiritsubo (whose death has been reported in the previous chapter). Both sisters have received the protection and assistance of Genji after the death of the Kiritsubo emperor - Reikeiden has remained childless - and they live quietly in the countryside. Genji decides to visit them. Reikeiden's younger sister is the one called "Hanachirusato" (her title was Sanno-kun), and Genji has had a brief affair with her in the past.

On his way to the sisters, Genji, who rides without escort (but definitely not alone, he is amongst others accompanied by his confidant Koremitsu), spots a little house among handsome trees near the Nakagawa River from which issue the pleasing sounds of a koto. Genji remembers that once before he has visited a woman here and stops to send in a suggestive poem. She sends back a poem that contains a gentle rejection. Genji rides on claiming to have "the wrong house," - in reality, he thinks, the lady may have taken another lover and he should not disturb her. "Genji seems to have cared forever for each of his loves," writes Murasaki Shikibu.

So he continues to the dwelling of the Reikeiden Consort, with whom he spends the evening talking over old times. From the garden comes the scent of orange blossoms (tachibana), while the hototogisu (lesser cuckoo) is calling. Genji has heard the same bird near the house of the Nakagawa River earlier on. Later that evening, Genji discreetly visits the sister, Hanachirusato in another part of the house.

It seems that Murasaki Shikibu has included this short chapter to highlight the gentleness of Genji's character and his continuing care for the women whom he has met in the past. It is a quiet, melancholy interlude, before the storm will overtake him in the next chapter.

Hanachirusato has a trustworthy and gentle nature, and Genji will later in the story (in the chapter Matsukaze) take her as one of his wives into his new mansion in Kyoto. Still later, she will also act as a mother for Genji's children Yugiri and Tamakazura.

Genji-e: Illustrations of this very short chapter usually show Genji talking with the two sisters. In the garden are orange blossoms (a common symbol for past lovers) illuminated by a three-quarter moon while a hototogisu sings.

Hanachirusato appears as main character in a short story by Marguerite Yourcenar, "The Last Love of Prince Genji," in the anthology Oriental Tales (Nouvelles orientales, 1938).

Reading The Tale of Genji

Hyakunin Isshu (One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each): Poem 45 (Fujiwara no Koremasa / Koretada)

 

Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 45

Translation and comments by Ad Blankestijn
(version September 2022)


I can't even imagine
that you would
call me pitiable
so I may end up
wasting my life for nothing

aware to mo
iubeki hito wa
omooede
mi no itazura ni
narinu beki kana

あはれとも
いふべき人は
思ほえで
身のいたづらに
なりぬべきかな

Fujiwara no Koremasa / Koretada 藤原伊尹 (924–972)

Sent to a woman who had turned cold toward the poet and would not see him anymore (the implication is that they have slept together). Another note mentions that although no different from him in rank, one woman he repeatedly sent letters to, made no reply at all. That is when he sent her the above poem. Paraphrase: "I don't even think that you would say that I am to be pitied, so, yearning for you, I am wasting my life." The poet stresses his distress in an attempt to move the heart of the woman.

Notes

• awaredo: pitiable
  
• hito: can point at the woman he loves, but also at people in general.
• iubeki hito: itte kureso na hito
  
• omoede: omoi-ukabanai
• mi no itazura ni: to waste one's life - to die of love
  
• narinubeki kana: -nu indicates completion, -beki is a conjecture. "kitto natte shimau desho yo."
  

 
[Fujiwara no Koretada]

The Poet

Fujiwara no Koretada, also known as Fujiwara no Koremasa, was a courtier and waka-poet from the mid-Heian period. He is alsso known under his posthumous name "Kentokuko." He was the eldest son of Morosuke and regent (sessho) from 970. He was involved in the planning of the Gosenshu, the second imperial waka collection. He has 37 poems in imperial anthologies.

References: Pictures of the Heart, The Hyakunin Isshu in Word and Image by Joshua S. Mostow (University of Hawai'i Press, 1996); One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each, by Peter MacMIllan (Penguin Classics); Traditional Japanese Poetry, An Anthology, by Steven D. Carter (Stanford University Press, 1991); Hyakunin Isshu by Inoue Muneo, etc. (Shinchosha, 1990); Genshoku Hyakunin Isshu by Suzuki Hideo, etc. (Buneido, 1997); Chishiki Zero kara no Hyakunin Isshu, by Ariyoshi Tamotsu (Gentosha); Hyakunin Isshu Kaibo Zukan, by Tani Tomoko (X-Knowledge);  Ogura Hyakunin Isshu at Japanese Text Initiative (University of Virginia Library Etext Center); Hyakunin Isshu wo aruku by Shimaoka Shin (Kofusha Shuppan); Hyakunin Isshu, Ocho waka kara chusei waka e by Inoue Muneo (Chikuma Shoin, 2004); Basho's Haiku (2 vols) by Toshiharu Oseko (Maruzen, 1990); The Ise Stories by Joshua S. Mostow and Royall Tyler (University of Hawai'i Press, 2010); Kokin Wakashu, The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford University Press, 1985); Kokinshu, A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius (University of Tokyo Press, 1984); Kokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1994); Shinkokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1995); Taketori Monogatari-Ise Monogatari-Yamato Monogatari-Heichu Monogatari (Shogakkan, 1994). 

Illustrations from Wikipediaa

Hyakunin Isshu Index

Kokinshu, Twelve Poems (Japanese Poetry)

Twelve Poems from the Kokin Wakashu
(Collection of Waka, Old and New)

translation: Ad Blankestijn

(Six poems on spring)

Poem 1 (KKS No 2), Ki no Tsurayuki

Composed on the first day of spring.

The frozen water,
that I used to scoop up,
wetting my sleeves -
will the breeze thaw it,
on this first day of spring?

sode hijite
musubishi mizu no
koreru wo
haru tatsu kyo no
kaze ya tokuramu

はるたちける日よめる
袖ひちてむすびし水のこほれるを春立つけふの風やとくらむ

Poem 2 (KKS No 9), Ki no Tsurayuki

On a snowfall

When snow falls in spring,
season of hovering haze
and burgeoning buds -
flowers fall in villages
where flowers have yet to bloom

kasumitachi
ko no me mo haru no
yuki fureba
hana naki sato mo
hana zo chirikeru

ゆきのふりけるをよめる
霞たちこのめもはるの雪ふれば花なきさとも花ぞちりける

Poem 3 (KKS No 69), anonymous

Topic unknown

Cherry blossoms
in the mountains where
spring mists trail -
do their fading colors
foretell their fall?

harugasumi
tanabiku yama no
sakurabana
utsurowamu to ya
iro kawariyuku

題しらず
春霞たなびく山のさくら花うつろはむとや色かはりゆく

Poem 4 (KKS No 71), anonymous

Topic unknown

Cherry blossoms:
I admire their falling
without a trace -
things that linger in this world
become hateful in the end

nokori naku
chiru zo medetaki
sakurabana
arite yo no naka
hate no ukereba

題しらず
のこりなくちるぞめでたき桜花ありて世中はてのうければ

Poem 5 (KKS No 72), anonymous

Topic unknown

Tonight I must lodge
here in this village:
confused by falling
cherry blossoms,
I've forgotten my way home

kono sato ni
tabine shinu beshi
sakurabana
chiri no magai ni
ieji wasurete

題しらず
このさとにたびねしぬべしさくら花ちりのまがひにいへぢわすれて

Poem 6 (KKS No 73), anonymous

Topic unknown

How like this fleeting
cicada husk world of ours!
Cherry blossoms:

no sooner do they flower

than they fall

utsusemi no

yo ni mo nitaru ka

hanazakura

saku to mishi ma ni

katsu chirinikeri

題しらず

空蝉の世にもにたるか花ざくらさくと見しまにかつちりにけり



(Six poems on autumn)

Poem 7 (KKS No 169), Fujiwara Toshiyuki no Ason

Composed on the first day of autumn

That autumn has come
can't be seen clearly
by the eyes,
but suddenly we are struck
by the sound of the wind.

aki kinu to
me ni wa sayaka ni
mienedomo
kaze no oto ni zo
odorokarenuru

秋立つ日よめる
あききぬとめにはさやかに見えねども風のおとにぞおどろかれぬる

Poem 8 (KKS No 223), anonymous

Topic unknown

Dew drops on the bush clover -
they would vanish, if plucked
to string them like beads:
best see them as they are,
left on their boughs.

(Some say that this poem was composed by the Nara Emperor.)

hagi no tsuyu
tama ni nukamu to
toreba kenu
yoshi mimu hito wa
eda nagara miyo

題しらず
萩の露玉にぬかむととればけぬよし見む人は枝ながら見よ
ある人のいはく、この哥はならのみかどの御哥なりと

Poems 9 (KKS No 256), anonymous

On seeing autumn leaves on Otowa Mountain while visiting Ishiyama

From the first day
the winds of autumn blew,
the tips of the trees
on the peak of Mount Otowa
have been turning color.

akikaze no
fukinishi hi yori
otowayama
mine no kozue mo
irozukinikeri

いしやまにまうでける時、おとは山のもみぢを見てよめる
秋風のふきにし日よりおとは山峯のこずゑも色づきにけり

 

Poem 10 (KKS No 257), Toshiyuki no Ason

Composed for a Poetry Contest at the House of Prince Koresada

White dew -
all of a single color:
how then does it dye
the leaves of autumn
a myriad different shades?

shiratsuyu no
iro wa hitotsu wo
ika ni shite
aki no ko no ha wo
chiji ni somuramu

これさだのみこの家の哥合によめる

白露の色はひとつをいかにして秋のこのはをちぢにそむらむ

Poem 11 (KKS No 289), anonymous

Topic unknown

Does the autumn moon

shine so brilliantly
on the mountain range,
that we may count

each colored leaf that is falling?

aki no tsuki

yamabe sayaka ni

teraseru wa

otsuru momiji no

kazu wo miyo to ka

題しらず

秋の月山辺さやかにてらせるはおつるもみぢのかずを見よとか

Poem 12 (KKS No 297), by Ki no Tsurayuki

Composed during a visit to the northern hills to pluck autumn leaves

Deep in the mountains,
with no one to see them,
they have scattered:
red leaves of autumn,
like brocade in the night.

miro hito mo
nakute chirinuru
okuyama no
momiji wa yoru no
nishiki narikeri

北山に紅葉をらむとてまかれりける時によめる
見る人もなくてちりぬるおく山の紅葉はよるのにしきなりけり

[Hon'ami Koetsu - Poem from the Kokin Wakashu]

Kokin Wakashu (Kokinshu, ) is one of the world's earliest and most important poetic anthologies. It consists of over 1,000 poems, almost all of which were probably written between the last half of the eight century and 905-914, the approximate dates of the work's compilation.

The poems of the Kokinshu can be roughly divided into three periods, which also reflect certain broad stylistic differences: anonymous poems of the early to mid-9th century or before; those of the age of the "Six Poetic Geniuses," the mid-9th century; and poems by the editors and their contemporaries, from the late 9th and early 10th centuries. Well over half of the poems are attributed to nearly 130 known poets, mostly of the late 9th century. Of the approximately 450 anonymous poems, many are believed to derive from oral traditions of folk song, though some Heian and medieval commentaries assert, plausibly enough, that the editors deliberately identified as anonymous certain poems by those of the highest social rank, others by persons of very low status, some of those by the compilers themselves, and poems which tended to impinge upon various taboos.

Kokinshu ("Collection from Ancient and Modern Times") the first imperial waka anthology, 20 scrolls, 1,111 poems. Although its compilation was already underway under Emperor Uda (r 887-897), the Kokinshu was officially commissioned under his son Emperor Daigo (r 897-930) and completed about 905-914. Although the compilers wrongly believed that the Manyoshu had also been royally commissioned, the Kokinshu was in fact the first in a series of anthologies of waka poetry compiled by imperial command, the chokusenshu or Nijuichidaishu (Collections of the Twenty-One Eras). Next to being a compiler of such a collection, having one's poems included was the highest poetic honor.

[Kokin Wakashu, Teikabon (Reizeike)]

The compilers of the anthology were four court poets, led by Ki no Tsurayuki (872-945) and also including his cousin Ki no Tomonori (who died before its completion), Oshikochi no Mitsune, and Mibu no Tadamine. Tsurayuki wrote the Japanese preface and Ki no Yoshimochi the Chinese preface. The poems were chosen from 3 groups: (1) anonymous poems from older and more recent times, (2) poems from the period of the "Six Poetic Geniuses" (mid-ninth century), and (3) poems by the compilers and their contemporaries. The "Six Poetic Geniuses," who attained their status by having been discussed in Tsurayuki's foreword, include Bishop Henjo (17 poems), Ariwara no Narahira (30 poems), Fun'ya no Yasuhide (5 poems), Priest Kisen (1 poem), Ono no Komachi (18 poems) and Otomo no Kuronushi (3 poems). The compilers themselves are represented by 244 poems: Tsurayuki with over 100 (the highest number of any poet). Another 6 poets, including Lady Ise and Priest Sosei are represented by 10 or more poems each. Over 120 named poets are represented, among whom 30 women. But the anonymous poems, with a number of 450, form the largest group.

The Kokinshu set the tradition of arranging the poems not by author, but by topic, which was followed by the other 20 imperial collections. Topics were seasonal poems (book 1 to 6), love poems (11-15), congratulatory poems, parting, travel, laments and miscellaneous topics. The proportions make clear that seasonal and love poems were considered the essential topical concerns of lyric poetry.

Within a given topic the poems were also arranged in meaningful sequences: the seasonal poems follow the course of a particular season from beginning to end, and in the same way the course of a love affair is followed through time. The Kokinshu is lively and represents the most creative period of the Japanese court.

[Preface to the Kokin Wakashu, Okura Shukokan]

Notes
Poem 1
The poems on spring, summer, autumn and winter follow the progress of each season, from blossoming flowers to fallen petals. What is more, anticipation is also important - sooner than expected we see sings of spring or autumn. Ki no Tsurayuki (872-945) was one of the compilers of the Kokinshu and the greatest poet and poetry critic of his age.

Poem 2
It was a common conceit to confuse late snow in the mountains with early cherry blossoms.

Poem 3
When the cherry blossoms are at their fullest, signs of their impending fall already appear. When Yang is at its top, Yin appears.

Poem 4
In this fleeting world, things which last too long, become unnatural.

Poem 5
Befuddled by blossoms, the poet has lost his way.

Poem 6
The image of the discarded shell of a cicada was a common conceit symbolizing the unsubstantiality and emptiness of the human world.

Poem 7
A poem about the anticipation of autumn, which is heard in the wind.

Poem 8
The bush clover (hagi) is a distinctive autumn flower. The metaphor (mitate) of dew drops as evanescent jewels is a familiar one.

Poem 9
The first poem on autumn leaves. Mt. Otowa lies at the border of Otsu (Shiga prefecture) and Yamashina (Kyoto Prefecture). Its height is 593m. In Heian times it was a popular pillow word. The Ishiyama temple is located on the Otsu side of Mt Otawa.

Poem 10
It was believed that dew drops were the cause of the coloration of leaves. This leads to the question how "white dew" can lead to so many autumn colors, as red, yellow and rust.

Poem 11
A rhetorical question. Moonlight intensifies our perception of the falling of leaves and thus of the passage of the season towards winter.

Poem 12
"Wearing brocades by night" was a proverbial expression for something done to no effect, but when I read this poem, I see a beautiful image of the red leaves glittering in the darkness.

Original texts and translations:
Kokin Wakashu, The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford University Press, 1985)
Kokinshu, A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius (University of Tokyo Press, 1984)
Kokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1994)
Japanese Text Initiative (tr. Lewis Cook)


Photos
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Japanese Poetry Index

Ishikawa Takuboku, A Handful of Sand (Japanese Poetry)

Ishikawa Takuboku, Seven Tanka

translated by Ad Blankestijn

[Stones with inscriptions of Takuboku's tanka,
at Cape Oma (famous for its line-caught tuna)
in the Shimokita Peninsula, facing the Tsugaru Strait]

(1)
on the white beach of a small island in the Eastern Sea
my face wet with tears
I play with a crab

Tokai no kojima no shirasuna ni
ware nakunurete
kani to tawamuru

東海の小島の磯の白砂に
われ泣きぬれて
蟹とたはむる


(2)
a pistol rusted all over came out
when I was digging
with my finger in the sand of the dunes

itaku sabishi pisutoru idenu
sunayama no
suna o yubi motearishini

いたく錆びしピストル出でぬ
砂山の
砂を指もて掘りてありしに

(3)
after writing the word "great" more than a hundred times
in the sand
I gave up dying and went home

dai to iu ji wo hyaku amari
suna ni kaki
shinu koto wo yamete kaerikitareri

大といふ字を百あまり
砂に書き
死ぬことをやめて帰り来れり


(4)
just for fun I put mother on my back
but cried because she was so light -
I couldn't even do three steps

tawamure ni haha wo seoite
sono amari ni karoki ni nakite
sanpo ayumazu

たはむれに母を背負ひて
そのあまり軽きに泣きて
三歩あゆまず


(5)
on the roadside a dog gives out a long yawn
I do the same
out of sheer envy

michibata ni inu naganaga to akubi shinu
ware mo mane shinu
urayamashisa ni

 
路傍（みちばた）に犬ながながと呻（あくび）しぬ
われも真似（まね）しぬ
うらやましさに


(6)
a mouth moving in a beastly face -
that was all I saw
of the man giving a speech

kemono meku kao ari kuchi wo akete su
to nomi mite iru
hito no kataru wo

けものめく顔あり口をあけたてす
とのみ見てゐぬ
人の語るを


(7)
as I took off my gloves I suddenly stopped
as some puzzling memory
zipped through my head

tebukuro wo nugu te futo yamu
nani yaramu
kokoro ka sumeshi omoide no ari

手套（てぶくろ）を脱（ぬ）ぐ手ふと休（や）む
何やらむ
こころかすめし思ひ出のあり

[Ishikawa Takuboku]

Ishikawa Takuboku is the pseudonym of the Japanese poet Ishikawa Hajime (1886-1912). Takuboku is especially know for his tanka, the traditional Japanese short poem of 31 syllables.

Takuboku was born near Morioka, the capital of Iwate Prefecture. Takuboku was a brilliant student, but after some of his poems had appeared in a major literary magazine, Myojo, he dropped out of school in 1902 and went to Tokyo. There he pursued his relations with the editors of Myojo, Yosano Tekkan and Tekkan's wife Akiko, who both were prominent tanka poets as well. But illness and lack of funds forced Takuboku to return home in 1903. Takuboku continued writing during his recuperation and his first verse collection, in the free verse manner, was published in 1905. It attracted attention for its startling imagery. That same year, Takuboku married and took a position as assistant teacher. In 1907, he moved to Hokkaido. These years were characterized by unremitting financial problems, due to family circumstances, illness, and the impossibility to find a more stable job.

In 1908, Takuboku returned to Tokyo and from this time on he devoted himself almost exclusively to the writing of tanka. His fame as a poet rests on the quality of these poems and his innovations in the form. His first collection of tanka, from which the above poems come, A Handful of Sand, was published in 1910. The 551 poems in the collection deal with Takuboku's daily life, in simple unadorned language. They have a frankness and vitality that was unprecedented in Japanese poetry.

Unfortunately, Takuboku suffered from tuberculosis and the illness carried him away in 1912 at the young age of only 26. His second tanka collection, Sad Toys, was published posthumously, as was his interesting diary, Romaji Nikki. Takuboku is often considered as one of Japan's finest modern poets and his influence on modern tanka was very large indeed. His poetry has also been extensively translated.

Notes:
About the first poem, Donald Keene has written in Dawn to the West, Poetry, Drama Criticism (New York, 1984), that it evokes the loneliness and futility of the poet's life. The "small island" is of course Japan, the sand stands for the emptiness of Takuboku's life, and playing with a crab is symbolic for the meaningless of his daily preoccupations (p. 46).

Takuboku's work is in the public domain.

Translations and studies:
Ishikawa Takuboku, Romaji Diary and Sad Toys, translated by Sanford Goldstein and Seishi Shinoda. Rutland, Charles E. Tuttle Co. 1985.
Ishikawa Takuboku's Tankas, by Teruo SugaChukyo Pub. Co., 1995
Donald Keene, The First Modern Japanese: The Life of Ishikawa Takuboku. New York: Columbia University Press, 2016.
e-texts of Ishikawa Takuboku's works at Aozora bunko

Photos: Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Japanese Poetry Index

Hanshan, Nine Poems (China, 9th c.)

 Nine Poems by Hanshan

translated by Ad Blankestijn

(1)
For thirty years I have lived in the world,
I must have roamed a million miles.
I walked by rivers where the green grass grows thick,
crossed the frontier where the red sand rises.
Through pills I vainly sought immortality,
I read books and studied history.
Today I’m back at Cold Mountain,
I sleep by the creek and wash out my ears.
(HS 302)

出生三十年， 當遊千萬里。
行江青草合，入塞紅塵起。
鍊藥空求仙，讀書兼詠史。
今日歸寒山，枕流兼洗耳。


(2)
Most valuable to me is Cold Mountain,
white clouds always drifting calmly.
Gibbons screech as they play on the road,
tigers roar as they come out among men.
Rocks support me on my walks,
I grab the vines when I sing.
The breeze in the pines rustles coolly,
and the speech of birds twitters around me.
(HS 165)

可重是寒山, 白雲常自閑。
猿啼暢道內, 虎嘯出人間。
獨步石可履, 孤吟藤好攀。
松風清颯颯, 鳥語聲𠴨𠴨。


(3)
People ask me the way to Cold Mountain -
to Cold Mountain there's no through trail.
Ice, in summer, is still frozen,
Mists, in sunlight, keep swirling.
How did someone like me get here?
Because my mind is not the same as yours.
If your mind were like mine,
you would be right here already!

(HS 9)

人問寒山道, 寒山路不通。
夏天冰未釋, 日出霧朦朧。
似我何由屆, 與君心不同。
君心若似我, 還得到其中。

(4)
My home is beneath the green cliffs,
my garden overgrown, but I don't clear the weeds.
New vines hang down in twists and curls,
old stones thrust up, jagged and sharp.
Monkeys pick the mountain fruits,
white herons snatch the fish from the pond.
Under the trees I read mumbling
a few scrolls by a Daoist master.
(HS 16)

家住綠巖下, 庭蕪更不芟。
新藤垂繚繞, 古石豎巉嵓。
山果獼猴摘, 池魚白鷺㘅。
仙書一兩卷, 樹下讀喃喃。


(5)
The four seasons can not be stopped,
years come and years go.
The Ten Thousand Things replace each other,
the Nine Heavens never will decay.
The east will brighten and the west will darken,
flowers will fall, then bloom again.
Only the traveler to the Yellow Springs,
Once departed in darkness, will not return.
(HS 17)

四時無止息, 年去又年來。
萬物有代謝, 九天無朽摧。
東明又西暗, 花落復花開。
唯有黃泉客, 冥冥去不迴。


(6)
We humans living in the dust,
resemble bugs trapped in a bowl.
All day we run round and round,
but never escape from the bowl.
Immortality is beyond our reach,
our illusions are endless.
Months and years flow by like water,
until, in an instant, we've grown old.
(HS 236)

人生在塵蒙, 恰似盆中蟲。
終日行遶遶, 不離其盆中。
神仙不可得, 煩惱計無窮。
歲月如流水, 須臾作老翁。


(7)
All of you who read my poems:
you must hold purity in your heart.
Day after day clean away your greed
instantly correct your falseness.
Drive your evil karma away,
Take Refuge and accept your True Nature.
Today you’ll obtain your Buddha Body,
be quick as if obeying a command!
(HS 1)

凡讀我詩者, 心中須護淨。
慳貪繼日廉, 諂曲登時正。
驅遣除惡業, 歸依受真性。
今日得佛身, 急急如律令。


(8)
My heart is like the autumn moon
in a jade-green pool: clear, bright and pure.
Nothing can be compared to it —
how do you want me to explain it?
(HS 51)  

吾心似秋月, 碧潭清皎潔。
無物堪比倫, 教我如何說。


(9)
If you have Hanshan's poems at home,
that's better than reading the sutras.
Write them down on a folding screen,
and from time to time read a poem.
(HS 313)

家有寒山詩, 勝汝看經卷。
書放屏風上, 時時看一遍。

[Han Shan, by Yan Hui (late 13th c.)]

The "Cold Mountain Master Poetry Collection" (Hanshanzi shiji) is a corpus of over three hundred poems attributed to a legendary Tang era (618–907) recluse who took the nickname Hanshan (Cold Mountain) from the isolated hill on which he lived in the Tiantai Mountains. The collection contains a preface by a government official, Lüqiu Yin, who claims to have personally met Hanshan. The story he tells about Hanshan and his sidekick Shide is very beautiful, but unfortunately it is all fiction.

Lüqiu Yin claims to have met Hanshan and Shide at the kitchen of Guoqing Temple. When he greeted them, they gave a big laugh and fled. Later, he tried to give them clothing and even a dwelling, but they fled deeper into the mountains and finally went into a cave which closed itself. Their tracks disappeared. This led Lüqiu Yin, who was the local governor, to collect Hanshan's writings, which were written on rocks and cliffs. The Preface also identifies Hanshan as an incarnation of the Bodhisattva of wisdom, Mañjuśrjī, and Shide as Mañjuśrī’s companion Samantabhadra, two figures from the Buddhist pantheon who were especially venerated on Mt Tiantai.

But if this is all legend, what is then the truth? The most reasonable conclusion is that the Hanshan collection was composed by several  - possibly a great many - anonymous poets over the course of the Tang dynasty (from the 7th to the 9th c.). All writers must have been Buddhist monks connected with the Tiantai temple complex. And then gradually a myth evolved around the collection attributing it to an iconoclastic, reclusive monk named Hanshan - this happened at a time when such types of monks had become highly popular in late Tang Chan literature. Poems were possibly later added to the collection which had been deliberately composed in the voice of such a monk.

The collection contains over 300 poems, which often share the same phrases and images. When we look at the themes, these are in the first place of radical reclusion (one fifth of the total, and probably the most famous part); poems stressing the impermanence of the world and a carpe diem theme; poems satirizing worldliness, the wealthy, the ignorant; and explicitly religious poems (mostly Buddhist, but also Daoist). Because of this Buddhist flavor, in the past in China the collection was not regarded as literature. 

The Hanshan collection became very popular in Chan Buddhist circles in the Song dynasty (960-1279). With the Chan movement it spread later to countries as Japan and Korea, where it became even more popular - the major Rinzai Zen priest Hakuin (1686–1768) wrote an extended commentary on the collection. Its popularity extended even to the West: Beat poet Gary Snyder made selected translations from Hanshan in the 1950s; and Snyder’s enthusiasm was in turn fictionalized in Jack Kerouac’s novel, The Dharma Bums (1958). There are now four full English translations of the Hanshan poems (notably by Paul Rouzer), plus many partial ones, as by Arthur Waley and Burton Watson.

In Japanese and Chinese paintings, Hanshan is a popular subject; he is often depicted together with Shide.

[Hanshan and Shide, by Kano Sansetsu (1589－1651)]

Most poems speak for themselves. I only have a few notes:

Poem 5: "Yellow Springs" is the Chinese underworld where the dead go, like Hades of the ancient Greeks.

Poem 7: "Refuge" is to take refuge in the teachings of the Buddha, become a practicing Buddhist.

Poem 8: the bright autumn moon is a symbol for enlightenment.

Other translations:
Cold Mountain: 100 Poems by the T'ang Poet Han-shan (1970), tr. Burton Watson, Columbia University Press
Arthur Waley, 27 poems by Han-shan in Encounter (magazine), September 3, 1954)
Gary Snyder,  Cold Mountain Poems in Evergreen Review 2:6 Autumn 1958, p 68-80. Reprinted in Riprap & Cold Mountain poems, 1969)
Robert G. Henricks, The poetry of Han-Shan : a complete annotated translation of Cold Mountain, State University of New York Press, 1990. - x, 486 p.
Red Pine, The Collected Songs of Cold Mountain, Copper Canyon Press, 1983, 2000)
Paul Rouzer The Poetry of Hanshan (Cold Mountain), Shide, and Fenggan, De Gruyter, 2016. - 403 p, ISBN 978-1-5015-1056-4 also published as Open access ebook.

Illustration 1: Yan Hui, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Illustration 2: Kanō Sansetsu, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Lyric Poetry Around the World Index

Du Fu, Seven Poems (China, 712-770)

Poems by Du Fu

translated by Ad Blankestijn

(1) Spring View

The nation ruined, hills and streams remain,
a city in spring, grass and trees deep.
Touched by the times, flowers shed tears,
hating separation, birds alarm the heart.
Beacon fires three months on end,
a letter from home worth ten thousand in gold.
White hairs, thin because of scratching,
soon too few to hold a cap pin.

春望
國破山河在, 城春草木深。
感時花濺淚, 恨別鳥驚心。
烽火連三月, 家書抵萬金。
白頭搔更短, 渾欲不勝簪。

(2) Moonlit Night

The moon tonight in Fuzhou,
she alone watches from her chamber.

From afar I pity our children,
who don't know yet to remember Changan.
Fragrant mists - her coils of hair damp,
a clear luster - her jade-white arms cold.
When will we lean near the light mosquito net,
both shone upon, our tear stains dried?

月夜
今夜鄜州月, 閨中只獨看。
遙憐小兒女, 未解憶長安。
香霧雲鬟濕, 清輝玉臂寒。
何時倚虛幌, 雙照淚痕乾。

(3) Facing the Snow

Weeping over the war - many fresh ghosts,
reciting in sorrow, one old man alone.
Tumultuous clouds descend in the twilight,
snowflakes dance fiercely through the storm.
Ladle tossed aside, no wine in the cup,
the brazier still smolders with a reddish glow.
News has been cut off from so many prefectures,
I sit in sorrow, writing in the air.


對雪
戰哭多新鬼, 愁吟獨老翁。
亂雲低薄暮, 急雪舞迴風。
瓢棄樽無綠, 爐存火似紅。
數州消息斷, 愁坐正書空。

(4) Delighting in rain on a spring night

Good rain knows the right time,

in spring it comes to life.
With the wind it stealthily enters the night,
and moistens the crops, making no sound.
Above the paths, the clouds are black,
only on the river boats, the fires shine bright.
When I look at daybreak how wet the red is,
the flowers will be heavy in Brocade City.


春夜喜雨
好雨知時節，當春乃發生。
隨風潛入夜，潤物細無聲。
野徑雲倶黑，江船火獨明。
曉看紅濕處，花重錦官城。

(5) Weary at Night

The coolness of the bamboos invades my bed,
the moon above the field fills the yard's corner.
The heavy dew forms tiny drops,
sparse stars suddenly appear and disappear.
Fireflies in the darkness light up,
and birds on the water call to each other.
The whole world is at war.
My sorrows are in vain - the clear night passes.

倦夜
竹涼侵臥內, 野月滿庭隅。
重露成涓滴, 稀星乍有無。
暗飛螢自照, 水宿鳥相呼。
萬事干戈裏, 空悲清夜徂

(6) Lone Goose

A goose alone - she neither drinks nor eats,
while flying, she calls out to the flock.
Who thinks of her, that single shadow,
lost in ten thousand folds of clouds?
I keep gazing, as if I still can see her,
many mournful cries, as if I still can hear her.
The crows in the wilderness pay it no heed,
indifferently they caw and squawk wildly.

孤雁
孤雁不飲啄,
飛鳴聲念群。
誰憐一片影,
相失萬重雲。
望盡似猶見,
哀多如更聞。
野鴉無意緒,
鳴噪自紛紛。

(7）Writing of My Feelings Traveling by Night

Thin grass - a breeze on the river bank,
a high mast - a lonely boat at night.
The stars descend, the flat field is wide
the moon is rising, the Great River flows on.

A name - how could my writings make me famous?
I must quit my post because I'm sick and old.
What do I look like, prey to wind and waves?
Between heaven and earth, a single seagull.

旅夜書懷
細草微風岸, 危檣獨夜舟。
星垂平野闊, 月湧大江流。
名豈文章著, 官應老病休。
飄零何所似, 天地一沙鷗。

[Album of 12 leaves illustrating Du Fu's poems.
By Wang Shimin (1592-1680), Qing dynasty. Dated 1666.]

Du Fu (712–770) is always mentioned in the same breath as Wang Wei and Li Bai as one of the three most important poets of the Tang Dynasty. In the West, however, Du Fu's popularity has lagged behind that of Wang Wei and Li Bai, perhaps because his work is less accessible than the nature poetry of the first or the ecstatic hymns to wine and the moon of the second. Du Fu's themes are distinctly Confucian. His poems from the years after An Lushan's rebellion bear testimony to the horrors of military violence and the hardships that he and his wife and children suffered. Above all, they express Du Fu's despair at not being allowed to contribute to the restoration of peace and order, and express a sense of total abandonment in a degenerate world.

An Lushan (703–757) was a Tang dynasty general of Sogdian origin. After years of preparation, in 755 he rebelled against the emperor Xuanzong and founded his own dynasty. It took seven years before the rebellion was quelled. The death toll was enormous and the splendor of the Tang empire - although the son of Xuanzong, Suzhong - returned to power, was lost. Du Fu's poetry is a primary source of information about the massive upheavals of the period.

After fleeing Changan in 757, Du Fu held a subordinate position at the imperial court. From 759 on, he spent several years in southwestern Sichuan as an advisor to the governor of the province. At that time he lived with his wife and children in a village just outside the provincial capital Chengdu and these years probably were the happiest of his life. Du Fu spent his last years again wandering from city to city in Sichuan, Hubei and Hunan, looking for a new patron.

Du Fu's poetry was hugely influential in both Chinese and Japanese literary culture. Nearly fifteen hundred poems have been preserved. He has been dubbed the "Poet-Historian" by Chinese critics.

[Tang Warriors (Sancai Tomb Guards)]

Notes
Poem 1: This is Du Fu's most famous poem about the national disaster of the rebellion. When reading the last line, it should be remembered that until the conquest of China by the Manchus in 1644, Chinese men wore their long hair in a bun under a cap (which again was a token of being a government official). This poem was written when Du Fu was prisoner of the rebels in Changan, from autumn 756 to spring 757

Poem 2: This one of the most famous love poems from Chinese literature. It stems from the same period as the first poem. While himself a prisoner in Changan, Du Fu imagines how in a different city his wife and children are spending the autumn evening. The comparison with the moon (after all, considered as the residence of a beautiful fairy) was very old in Chinese poetry. The mosquito net mentioned in the last couplet was hung like a tent above the bed - so it is indicative of the longed-for intimacy between Du Fu and his wife.

Poem 3: Also the third poem was written in Changan during 756-57.

Poem 4: Written in the happy years 759-762 when Du Fu lived with his family in a cottage in the outskirts of Chengdu (the "Brocade City").

Poem 5: Also written in Chengdu, but in 764, after Du Fu had briefly left the city to escape a rebellion (Du Fu would leave again in 765).

Poem 6: No comment.

Poem 7: In his last years, Du Fu often traveled by boat along the Yangzi River, called the Great River. This poem was written in the spring of 768.

Other translations:
Owen, Stephen [translator & editor], Warner, Ding Xiang [editor], Kroll, Paul [editor] (2016). The Poetry of Du Fu. De Gruyter Mouton.
Cooper, Arthur (translator); (1986). Li Po and Tu Fu: Poems. Viking Press.
Hawkes, David; (2016). A Little Primer of Tu Fu. New York Review Books, revised ed.
Hinton, David (translator); (2019). The selected poems of Tu Fu. New York: New Directions Publishing
Hung, William; (1952). Tu Fu: China's Greatest Poet. Harvard University Press.

Photos: Album:  Wang Shimin, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons Warrior figures: Gary Todd, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

Lyric Poetry Around the World Index

Li Bai, Seven Poems (China, 701-762)

Seven Poems by Li Bai

translated by Ad Blankestijn

   (1) Drinking Alone under the Moon

Among the flowers, a jug of wine,
I drink alone - no friend is near,
I raise the cup, invite the bright moon,
plus Shadow, that makes three of us.
Moon doesn't know how to drink,
and Shadow just follows me around.
With Moon and Shadow as my improvised companions,
I make merry in the spirit of spring.
I sing - Moon swings back and forth,
I dance - Shadow flickers and scatters.
When I'm sober, we have fun together,
When I'm drunk, we each go our own way.
Joining forever in a journey free of emotion,
We'll meet over there in the Milky Way.


花間一壺酒，獨酌無相親。
舉杯邀明月，對影成三人。
月既不解飲，影徒隨我身。
暫伴月將影，行樂須及春。
我歌月徘徊，我舞影零亂。
醒時同交歡，醉後各分散。
永結無情遊，相期邈雲漢。

(2) On Visiting a Daoist Master in the Daitian Mountains
and Not Finding Him

A dog barks by the roaring stream,
Heavy dew lies on the peach blossoms.
Deep in the forest, sometimes a deer is seen,
At noon by the stream, no temple bell can be heard.
Wild bamboos cut through the green mist,
Flying cascades hang from the blue peak.
No one knows where the Master has gone.
Disappointed, I lean against the pines.

犬吠水聲中
桃花帶雨濃
樹深時見鹿
溪午不聞鐘
野竹分青靄
飛泉掛碧峰
無人知所去
愁倚兩三松

(3) Complaint on the Jade Steps

White dew grows on the jade steps,
The long night drenches her gauze socks.
She lets down the crystal curtain,
through which she gazes at the full moon.

玉階生白露，夜久侵羅襪。
却下水晶簾，玲瓏望秋月。

(4) Question and Answer in the Mountain  

You ask why I dwell in these blue mountains.
I smile and don't answer, my heart is at peace.
Peach blossoms float calmly on the flowing water,
Here is another world, not that of ordinary beings.
    
問余何意棲碧山，笑而不答心自閒。
桃花流水窅然去，別有天地非人間。

(5) At night in a temple in the mountains

From the tower, a hundred feet high,
I can pluck the stars with my hand.
I dare not speak in a loud voice
for fear of disturbing those in heaven.

危楼高百尺，手可摘星辰。
不敢高声语，恐惊天上人。

(6) Relaxation

While I was drinking, night came unnoticed,
Flowers fell on my dress.
Drunk, I step on the moon in the stream,
There are no birds and hardly any people.

對酒不覺暝
落花盈我衣
醉起步溪月
鳥還人亦稀

(7) Quiet Night Thoughts

The moonlight falls in front of my bed,
It almost looks like frost on the floor.
I look up and stare at the moon,
I bow my head and think of home.

床前明月光，疑是地上霜，
舉頭望明月，低頭思故鄉。

[Li Bai, by Liang Kai]

The Chinese poet Li Bai (Li Taibai, 701 - 762) is often considered one of the two most important poets in Chinese literary history, along with Du Fu. More than 900 of his poems have survived to this day.

Li Bai was born in the southwestern province of Sichuan, probably into a family of merchants from Central Asia (i.e., non-Han ancestors). In the aristocratic Tang society, Li Bai's background stood in the way of a normal career in the civil service. As a result, his life was not very stable. Not only because of his social position, but also because of his extravagant lifestyle, Li Bai was an exception among the poets of his time. In his poetry, however, he exaggerated his eccentricity in order to attract the attention of potential sponsors. Throughout his life, he wandered around China in search of a new patron. Li Bai devoted himself to Daoist studies and also received some minor initiations. In 742, he was appointed by Emperor Xuanzong as a member of the Forest of Brushes (Hanlin), at that time an informal office for scribes, court poets, fortune tellers, and jesters. But Li's success was never lasting, and in 744 he had to leave Changan again. In 755, Li Bai happened to be in southeastern China, where he entered the service of a rebellious prince during the An Lushan Rebellion. This resulted in a brief banishment when authority was restored. He died shortly after his pardon.

Praised as "a transcendent banished from heaven," Li Bai avoided the strict rules of modern poetry and wrote mainly in the style of old poems (gutaishi), giving the impression of great spontaneity. He was fond of exaggeration. Common themes are wine (he is the most alcoholic poet in Chinese literature!) and the moon. Other themes are farewells from friends (as in Wang Wei's poetry) and dream journeys with fantastic imagery. In the West, Li Bai has been seen as a romantic rebel who fights against society, a view that is certainly incorrect, as it attributes 19th-century Western cultural concepts to an 8th-century Chinese poet. But even in China, Li Bai's life is the stuff of legend: he is said to have drowned while drunkenly trying to catch the moon's reflection in the river (a story no doubt inspired by Poem 6 above).

In China, Li Bai lives on in many forms and places. His texts adorn many monuments, old and new, and his poems are taught in schools. In the West, Ezra Pound and Hans Bethge translated several of his poems, and through Bethge's very free translations he also became part of Gustav Mahler's "Das Lied von der Erde. More reliable early translations were made by the English Sinologist Arthur Waley, who also wrote a short biography of the poet.

[Emperor Xuanzong watching Li Bai write a poem (17th c. print)]

Notes on the poems
Poem 1: Wine in Li Bai's time was not made from grapes, but from rice, like Japanese sake. Li Bai sees wine as a means to forget his troubles and also to realize the mystical ecstasy of being one with the Way. The word "drunk" (zui) in his poetry does not mean "intoxicated," but rather "intoxicated with wine," being spiritually carried away from one's normal concerns. Another point to note is that drinking alone (as here) was unusual, as the ancient Chinese tended to be sociable drinkers, drinking mainly with friends or at parties. So Li Bai creates his own companions in this poem...

The moon in this and other poems is on the one hand a Buddhist symbol, especially its reflection in the water (representing enlightenment and the One Buddha nature present in all of existence), and on the other hand, with its constant waxing and waning, a symbol of the cycle of nature.

Poem 2: "Trying to visit a recluse in his mountain retreat, but not finding him" was a common theme in Tang Poetry - we also encountered it in the poetry of Jia Dao (No 21 of this series, Tang Poetry). The difference is that Li Bai was particularly interested in Daoism, and here visits a Daoist recluse.

[Drunken Li Bai, by Su Liupeng]

Poem 3: The steps are not really made of jade, of course, but of marble ("jade" is often used as an epithet for something very beautiful, like a woman's skin). The "crystal curtain" is a kind of roll-up beaded curtain with rock crystals. The stairs lead to the women's section of the Imperial Palace, where a concubine waits all night in vain for a visit from the emperor. In other words, this poem is part of a long tradition of "neglected women," women who are out of favor. Since the time of Qu Yuan, neglected women can stand for neglected officials (which makes this slightly erotic poetry seem moralistic), but to me this poem is more virtuosity than virtue, no more than a very able variation on an old theme-after all, Li Bai was never a real official.

Poem 4: An imaginary visitor urges the poet, who is a hermit: Wouldn't it be better to promote his interests in society? The answer is only a smile, with a contented mood. The peach blossoms floating on the river recall Tao Yuanming's famous fable of "Peach Blossom Spring": a fisherman accidentally discovers a utopia where people live an ideal existence in harmony with nature, unaware of the outside world for centuries. But after he returns to his village and tells others about his discovery, he can no longer find his way back to this idyllic haven. Li Bai implies that he lives in such an idyllic place.

Poem 5: A very original idea of what it means to be in a monastery on a mountaintop.

Poem 6: Li Bai's most drunken poem.

Poem 7: This is probably the most famous Chinese poem ever written, reflecting the nostalgia of a traveler away from home. For Chinese living away from home, especially overseas Chinese, it is the most apt expression of their feelings. Many generations of Chinese children have learned it by heart.

Other translations and studies:

• Waley, Arthur (1950). The Poetry and Career of Li Po (New York: MacMillan, 1950). ASIN B0006ASTS4
  

• At Project Gutenberg from More Translations From The Chinese by Arthur Waley, 1919 (includes six titles of poems by Li Po). 

• Cooper, Arthur (1973). Li Po and Tu Fu: Poems Selected and Translated with an Introduction and Notes (Penguin Classics, 1973). ISBN 978-0-14-044272-4. 

• Watson, Burton (1971). Chinese Lyricism: Shih Poetry from the Second to the Twelfth Century. New York: Columbia University Press. ISBN 0-231-03464-4
  
  
  Illustrations:
  Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
  

Lyric Poetry Around the World Index

Hyakunin Isshu (One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each): Poem 44 (Fujiwara no Asatada)

 

 Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 44

Translation and comments by Ad Blankestijn
(version September 2022)


if we would never
have met at all
then on the contrary
I would not resent
both her and myself

au koto no
taete shi naku wa
nakanaka ni
hito wo mo mi wo mo
uramizaramashi

逢ふことの
絶えてしなくは
中々に
人をも身をも
恨みざらまし

Fujiwara no Asatada 藤原朝忠 (910-966)

[Fujiwara no Asatada by Kano Yasunobu]

"If would never have met her, I would not have to resent her coldness or my own distress."

Two interpretations are possible:
(1) "love unable to meet again" - the poet complains about a cold lady who will not see him again (due to the dangers and complications this would entail); this is the way Teika reads it, and also how I have translated it.
(2) "love before the first meeting" - the poet complains that the woman has not yet consented to let him come to her at night. Were there no such thing as love, he would on the contrary be happy and would not resent her nor feel sad himself. Then the translation would have to be:

if there were no such thing
as a tryst at all
then on the contrary
I would not resent her
nor feel sad myself

Notes

• taete: (not) at all 
• nakanaka: on the contrary 
• hito wo mo mi mo: neither others (her, his lover) nor myself  
• -mashi; suffix of conjecture, used in "if...then..." constructions

The Poet

The writer of this poem was the fifth son of the Minister-of-the-Right Sadakata (poem 25). 21 of his poems have come down to us in various imperial collections.

References: Pictures of the Heart, The Hyakunin Isshu in Word and Image by Joshua S. Mostow (University of Hawai'i Press, 1996); One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each, by Peter MacMIllan (Penguin Classics); Traditional Japanese Poetry, An Anthology, by Steven D. Carter (Stanford University Press, 1991); Hyakunin Isshu by Inoue Muneo, etc. (Shinchosha, 1990); Genshoku Hyakunin Isshu by Suzuki Hideo, etc. (Buneido, 1997); Chishiki Zero kara no Hyakunin Isshu, by Ariyoshi Tamotsu (Gentosha); Hyakunin Isshu Kaibo Zukan, by Tani Tomoko (X-Knowledge);  Ogura Hyakunin Isshu at Japanese Text Initiative (University of Virginia Library Etext Center); Hyakunin Isshu wo aruku by Shimaoka Shin (Kofusha Shuppan); Hyakunin Isshu, Ocho waka kara chusei waka e by Inoue Muneo (Chikuma Shoin, 2004); Basho's Haiku (2 vols) by Toshiharu Oseko (Maruzen, 1990); The Ise Stories by Joshua S. Mostow and Royall Tyler (University of Hawai'i Press, 2010); Kokin Wakashu, The First Imperial Anthology of Japanese Poetry by Helen Craig McCullough (Stanford University Press, 1985); Kokinshu, A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius (University of Tokyo Press, 1984); Kokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1994); Shinkokin Wakashu (Shogakkan, 1995); Taketori Monogatari-Ise Monogatari-Yamato Monogatari-Heichu Monogatari (Shogakkan, 1994).

Hyakunin Isshu Index

 

Wang Wei, Eight Poems (China, 699-761)

Eight Poems by Wang Wei

translated by Ad Blankestijn

   
    (1) Deer Park
   
    Empty hills, no one in sight -
    you only hear the echo of voices.
    Late sunlight enters the deep forest,  
    shines on the green moss again.

    空山不見人，但聞人語響。    
    返景入深林，復照青苔上。

 
    (2) Bamboo Grove House
   
    Sitting alone among cool bamboos,
    playing the zither or long whistling,
    deep in the forest, unknown to anyone:
    the bright moon comes to shine on me.

    独坐幽篁里，弹琴复长啸。
    深林人不知，明月来相照。
   

    (3) Without title
   
    You come from my old village
    and must know about things there -
    in front of the gauze window, yesterday,
    had the winter plum already blossomed?

    君自故鄉來，應知故鄉事。
    來日綺窗前，寒梅著花未？   


    (4) Parting
   
    Getting off my horse, I offer you wine,
    and I ask where you are going.
    You say your ambitions were not fulfilled,
    and you return to the flanks of South Mountain.
    Just go - I will ask nothing more -
    the white clouds are endless there.

    下馬飲君酒、    問君何所之
    君言不得意、    歸臥南山陲
    但去莫復問、    白雲無盡時


    (5) Parting
   
    I have sent you off in the hills,
    the sun sets - I shut my rustic door -
    the spring grass will be green again next year,
    but you, my prince, will you be back?

    山中相送罢，日暮掩柴扉。
    春草明年绿，王孙归不归。


    (6) In farewell to Yuan Er, on his going to Anxi
   
    The morning rain at Weicheng drenches the light dust,
    the inn is surrounded by the fresh green of the willows.
    I urge you to drink one more cup of wine -
    west of the Yanguan Pass, you don't have any old friends.

    渭城朝雨浥軽塵、客舎青青柳色新
    勧君更尽一杯酒、西出陽関無故人


    (7) Sitting alone on an autumn night
   
    Sitting alone, sad at my gray temples,
    an empty room, almost the second watch at night.
    In the rain, the hill fruits fall,
    under the lamp, the crickets chirp.
    My gray hair will never change,
    the philosopher's stone is unattainable -
    the only thing that fixes old age,
    is to study Nirvana.

    独坐悲双鬓，空堂欲二更。雨中山果落，灯下草虫鸣。
    白发终难变，黄金不可成。欲知除老病，唯有学无生。


    (8) My Zhongnan Retreat
  
    Since the middle of my life, I am much drawn to the Way,
    late in life I made my home at South Mountain's slope.
    When I feel like it, I go there on my own,
    I alone know aimlessly its beauty.
    When I walk to the head of the brook,
    or sit and watch the gathering clouds,
    I may meet an old man from the forest -
    our talk and laughter make me forget to go home.

    中岁颇好道，晚家南山陲。兴来每独往，胜事空自知。
    行到水穷处，坐看云起时。偶然值林叟，谈笑无还期。

   

[After Wang Wei's "Snow Over Rivers and Mountains"
by Wang Shimin]

Wang Wei (699–759) was a Chinese poet, painter, calligrapher and musician of the Tang period. He was one of the most famous poets of his time - some 400 of his poems survive.

Wang Wei was born into one of the most important families of his day. He came to the cosmopolitan capital Changan at an early age (19), where he drew the attention of the highest circles through his gifts as a musician and poet. In 721 he obtained the prestigious jinshi degree in the Chinese exam system. In the course of his long and mostly successful civil service career, he was a few times for short periods transferred to the provinces, but the last twenty years of his life he spent almost continuously in the capital or on his estate south of Changan. In his private life he was a devout Buddhist.

In his lifetime, Wang Wei owes his fame as a poet in the first place to the occasional poetry that he wrote in large quantities as an official at court and in the capital (as is true of most other Chinese poets), but in later centuries and in the West it was his landscape poetry that was in the first place admired. This landscape poetry (in which the poet as a subject is hardly present) has been associated on the one hand with Wang Wei's Buddhism, and on the other hand with the art of painting. In ancient China, the contemplation of the landscape was regarded as a meditation on the Way and Buddha nature, which are especially clearly present in undistorted nature. The relationship between Wang Wei's poetry and painting has been described as "in his poems there is a painting, in his paintings there is a poem." Note that Wang Wei was not a mere superficial landscape poet: he was first and for all a mystical and religious poet.

["Landscapes in the Manner of Old Masters" (Wang Wei),
by Dong Qichang]

Notes
(Poems 1 and 2) These are 2 poems from the 20 poem "Wang River Sequence", which was calligraphied on a landscape scroll, together with 20 poems by Pei Di. As with all Wang Wei's paintings, only some later copies survive and all originals have been lost. The poems describe scenes at Wang Wei's country retreat in the hill valley of the Wang River. It is a very characteristic work, and the individual poems are often anthologized.

(Poem 3) This is the middle one of three poems "without title."

(Poem 4) Partings between friends and colleagues were an important social occasion for poetry writing. Most Chinese poets were government officials who would get a new assignment in the immense empire every three or four years, so partings among colleagues were frequent. The person who was leaving would be accompanied part of the way, and then a farewell banquet would be held. The present poem was translated into German by Hans Bethge and used by Mahler for his Das Lied von der Erde (see my article Mahler's The Song of the Earth and Chinese Poetry elsewhere in this blog). Rather than a conventional parting poem, it seems that the poet is speaking to himself - not successful in his official career, he decides to start living in retirement on his estate by South Mountain. It is one of Wang Wei's most famous poems.

(Poem 5) Another parting poem.

(Poem 6) Idem. One of the items in Ezra Pound's Cathay is based on this poem. The poem became especially popular when it was set to music as a song of farewell.

(Poem 7) The term used for Nirvana is wusheng (non-birth; in Japanese musho), as Nirvana is beyond the realms of birth and death.

(Poem 8) South Mountain (Zhongnanshan) was to the south of Changan; Wang Wei had his retreat in its foothills (like many wealthy families from Changan).

Translations and studies:
Robinson, G.W. (1974), Wang Wei Poems. Penguin Classics,
Watson, Burton, CHINESE LYRICISM: Shih Poetry from the Second to the Twelfth Century, New York, Columbia University Press, 1971.
Yu, Pauline (1980), The Poetry of Wang Wei: New Translations and Commentary. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Chang, H.C. (1977), Chinese Literature 2: Nature Poetry. New York: Columbia University Press.
Wagner, Marsha (1982), Wang Wei. Boston: Twayne

Photos:
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

 

Lyric Poetry Around the World Index

Manyoshu, Five Poems (Japanese Poetry)

Five Poems from Manyoshu

translated by Ad Blankestijn

(1) Song, by Emperor Yuryaku

your basket,
with your pretty basket,
your trowel,
with your pretty trowel,

girl picking herbs
on this hill:
tell me your house,
tell me your name.

in the sky-filling Land of Yamato,
it is I who rules wide and far,
it is I who reigns wide and far,
so let it be me who tells you
my house and my name

komo yo mikomochi
fukushimo yo mibukushimochi
kono oka ni na tsumasu ko
ie kika na norasene
soramitsu Yamato no kuni wa
oshinabete ware koso ore
shikinabete ware koso imase
ware kosaba norame
ie o mo na o mo

篭もよ み篭持ち 堀串もよ み堀串持ち この岡に 菜摘ます子 家聞かな 告らさね そらみつ 大和の国は おしなべて 我れこそ居れ しきなべて 我れこそ座せ 我れこそば 告らめ 家をも名をも

(2) Climbing Mt Kagu, by Emperor Jomei

many are the mountains in Yamato,

but perfect is only Heavenly Mount Kagu
and when I climb up to look at the land
on the plain of the land
smoke rises and rises
on the plain of the sea
the sea gulls rise and rise
what a splendid land
the dragonfly island
the Land of Yamato

Yamato ni wa murayama aredo
toriyorou ame no Kaguyama
noboritachi kunimi wo sureba
kunihara wa keburi tachitatsu
unahara wa kamome tachitatsu
umashi kuni zo akizushima
Yamato no kuni wa

大和には 群山あれど とりよろふ 天の香具山 登り立ち 国見をすれば 国原は 煙立ち立つ 海原は 鴎立ち立つ うまし国ぞ 蜻蛉島 大和の国は

Yearning for Emperor Tenji, Lady Nukata

While waiting for you,
my heart is full of longing -
the bamboo blind
of my lodging sways,
as the autumn wind blows.

kimi matsu to
a ga koi oreba
waga yado no
sudare ugokashi
aki no kaze fuku

君待つと我が恋ひ居れば我が宿の簾動かし秋の風吹く

On Looking at Mount Fuji
by Yamabe no Akahito

Since the division
of heaven and earth,
it has stood godlike,
towering and noble,
rising in Suruga ,
the lofty peak of Fuji.
When I gaze afar
across the high plain of heaven,
the wandering sun -
all its beams blotted out,
the shining moon -
all its light lost to view,
the white clouds
fear to drift over it,
and in all seasons
snow falls upon it.
I shall tell about it
and pass on the word
of Fuji's lofty peak.

Envoy

Going out on Tago bay,
when I look,
it is pure white:
on Fuji's lofty peak
snow is falling.

ametsuchi no wakareshi toki yu
kamusabite takaku tafu toku
Suruga naru Fuji no takane wo
ama no hara furisakemireba
wataru hi no kage mo kakurai
teru tsuki no hikari mo miezu
shira kumo mo iyuki habakari
toki jiku zo yuki wa furikeru
kataritsugi iitsugi yukamu
Fuji no takane wa

Tago no ura yu
uchi-idete mireba
mashiro ni zo
Fuji no takane ni
yuki wa furikeru

天地の 別れし時ゆ 神さびて 高く貴き 駿河なる 富士の高嶺を 天の原 振り放け見れば 渡る日の 影も隠らひ 照る月の 光も見えず 白雲も い行きはばかり 時じくぞ 雪は降りける 語り継ぎ 言ひ継ぎ行かむ 富士の高嶺は

田子の浦ゆうち出でて見れば真白にぞ富士の高嶺に雪は降りける

Otomo no Yakamochi

My spring arbor
in crimson gleam -
on the path where
a young woman steps in view,
peach blossoms shine down.

haru no sono
kurenai niou
momo no hana
shitateru michi ni
idetatsu otome

春の園紅にほふ桃の花下照る道に出で立つ娘子

[Feather-Decorated Screen Panels of Beauties Under Trees
(Torige ritsujo no byobu), 8th c., Japan (Shosoin repository) - poem 5]

Just as in the case of China with the Classic of Poetry, Japanese literature begins with an anthology of beautiful lyric poetry, and not with epic poems about men bent on war and destruction as the Epic of Gilgamesh, the Iliad, the Aeneid, the Beowulf, the Edda, and the Mahābhārata (although that last work also contains philosophical material as the Bhagavad Gita) - to name just a few. Clearly, the rice paddy based civilizations of East and South-East Asia were more peaceful and serene than the violent cultures of, for example, Europe, where warlike tales proliferated. In contrast, China and Japan both have poems about soldiers who complain about their hardship, not narratives about warriors who are praised for their capacity to slay countless enemies. The Elegies of Chu from China contains an elegy on the soldiers who lost a battle and whose dead souls have to be pacified.

The Manyoshu (literally "Collection of a Myriad Leaves") is the oldest extant collection of Japanese poetry, compiled sometime after 759 CE, the year from which the last datable poem in the collection stems. The collection includes poems from the mid-7th c. to mid-8th c. Unlike later Japanese anthologies, the Manyoshu was not created by imperial order, but by private initiative. The court poet and government official Otomo no Yakamochi (a great number of whose own poems are included in the anthology) is generally accepted as either the compiler, or the last of a series of compilers.

Manyoshu contains 20 volumes and more than 4,500 waka poems, varying from  songs at public banquets and trips, and love songs, to funerary songs. These songs were written by people of various status, from the Emperor down to anonymous soldiers. The number of anonymous poems comprises almost half of the collection; among the 561 named poets are 70 women.

The poems are divided into four periods. The early period comprises poems dating back to legendary times, beginning from the reign of Emperor Yuryaku (r. 456-479). In the second period, the last part of the 7th c., the focus is on court poet Kakinomoto no Hitomaro. The third period brings together poems from the years 700-730, including such well-known poets as Yamabe no Akihito, Otomo no Tabito, and Yamanoue no Okura. In the last period, 730-760, the focus is on the above mentioned poet/compiler Otomo no Yakamochi.

The Manyoshu is one of the greatest monuments of Japanese literature.

Notes on the Poems Cited
(1)
The first poem cited above is also the first poem in the Manyoshu. It has been attributed to the late 5th c. Emperor Yuryaku, perhaps because it is a love poem and Yuryaku was known in legend as a great lover. But the diction of the poem is too new for it to date from the 5th c. It is possibly a later adaptation of an old courtship song, containing folk elements. Note that asking the house and name of a young woman was in fact a proposal of marriage (or lovemaking). As it is the emperor who rather emphatically makes that request, while boasting of his might, one could say there is a certain amount of "power harassment" included.

The maiden, presumable the daughter of a powerful local family, is engaged in the spring ritual of collecting herbs and green shoots that would become a courtly New Year rite associated with regeneration. For further explanation, see my comments on Poem no 15 by Emperor Koko in the Hyakunin Isshu.

In this poem we also encounter a makurakotoba, a so-called "pillow word," an ancient epithet of which the precise meaning is often not clear anymore, but which adds grandeur and venerability. In this poem it is the term "sora mitsu", "sky-filling" or perhaps "sky-seen," which is always paired with Yamato.

(2)
The second poem, ascribed to Emperor Jomei (r. 629-641), is about a "land-looking" (kunimi) ritual, in which the sovereign would climb a mountain to look over the land and affirm its prosperity as well as his own power over it. This was also a ritual spectacle meant to promote prosperity and avert misfortune. Mt Kagu is a sacred mountain (at about 150 meters in fact more a hillock!), one of the famous Three Mountains of Yamato, which during the Asuka period were located close to the imperial palace. For more information, see my discussion of this topic in Poem 2, by Empress Jito, in the One Hundred Poems, One Poem Each series. Yamato is not only the Province of Yamato (present-day Nara Prefecture), but also a poetic indication for the whole of Japan - as the court was established in Yamato, it was the cultural center of ancient Japan.

(3)
The third poem is by Lady Nukata (c. 638-690s), who had a relationship with Prince Oama (the later Emperor Tenmu) - she even had a daughter by him - , but then seems to have entered the service of his elder brother Emperor Tenji - a situation to entice fantasies about a triangular relationship. It is a sensitive and lyrical poem about a woman yearning for her lover to arrive. But what arrives first is the autumn wind, as a sort of premonition of that lover - perhaps bringing as much excitement as the actual visit.

(4)
Together with Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, Yamabe no Akahito (fl 724-737) is considered as the best poet of the Manyoshu. We know almost nothing about his life, but from his poems it can be inferred that his strength was in the description of landscape. The poem cited above is the first poem in the Manyoshu dedicated to Mt Fuji. In the 8th c., Mt Fuji - although now the symbol of Japan - was located in the "eastern provinces", far from the Nara capital in Yamato. It can be read as a land-looking poem like our second poem above, written with the purpose to draw majestic Mt Fuji closer to the Nara court. The poem describes Mt Fuji in mythical terms. It ends with an envoy (a single tanka poem) which is a variant version of Poem 4 in the One Hundred Poems, One Poem Each series.

The fifth and last poem cited above is by Otomo no Yakamochi (718-785), one of the Manyoshu compilers, who served at court but also as provincial governor of Etchu (present-day Toyama Prefecture). The poem quoted, composed at Etchu, is one of Yakamochi's most famous works. It was written on the first day of the third month of the year 750, when the peach trees in his garden were blossoming. The poem reminds us of a popular genre of painting in East Asia, that of "a beautiful woman under a tree" - there is one such painting in the Shosoin repository in Nara (see above photo). That one was painted in Japan, but the genre originated in China during the Tang Dynasty as other examples show (such as a painting in the MOA Museum of Art). When the poet looks at peach trees blossoming in his garden (perhaps reminded of the Chinese poet Tao Yuanming's story about Peach Blossom Spring) a young woman suddenly stands on the garden path in the gleam of the peach blossoms, a gleam which even reaches the shade under the trees. Is she real or is she a peach nymph?

Translations of the Manyoshu:
A Waka Anthology, Volume One, the Gem-Glistening Cup, by Edwin A. Cranston (Stanford, 1993)
Traditional Japanese Literature, An Anthology Beginnings to 1600, ed. Haruo Shirane (Columbia, 2007)
The Manyoshu, the Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai Translation of 1,000 Poems (Columbia, 1965)
Love Songs from the Manyoshu, tr. Ian Hideo Levy, comment by Ooka Makoto (Kodansha International, 2000)
Online Japanese text in The Japanese Text Initiative.

Photos:
Lady Under a Tree:  Unknown author, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Japanese Poetry Index