Kokinshu #305

Written and presented by command for a screen painting in the Teiji Palace of a man about to ford a river who has pulled up his mount beneath a tree from which autumn leaves are scattering.

    Oh, I shall stand still
and gaze -- and then cross over.
    The bright autumn leaves --
even if they fall like rain,
the waters still will not rise.

—9-10 September 2012

(Original by Ôshikôchi no Mitsune.) Teiji Palace (see #68) and the headnote's honorific inflections makes this a request of retired emperor Uda. Given it was probably quickly written, it's surprisingly beautiful in the original. By convention, poems for screen-paintings with people were written from the point of view of a figure within the scene, which makes the pronoun easy to assume here. What doesn't translate well is that the stopping-and-gazing is marked with a particle/exclamation indicating deep emotion. And with that we conclude, somewhat suspensively, the falling leaves segment of our program -- though they're mentioned in passing a few more times. On to the last few topics of the season.

(FWIW, I've so far failed to find any recreations of the original painting or paintings inspired by the poem, which is a pity as it sounds like a nicely dramatic one.)


tachitomari
mite o wataramu
momijiba wa
ame to furu to mo
mizu wa masaraji

---L.