A Translation of Sōgi’s Oi no Susami (Part 2): A Solace in Old Age

Among the verses of experts of our time¹ are these:

12	裏か表か 衣ともなし しののめの あしたの山の 薄霞
	ura ka omote ka koromo to mo nashi	The back? Perhaps the front? —no, not a robe at all.
	shinonome no ashita no yama no usugasumi	In the dim dawn light of a mountain at morning— a thin swath of haze.     Sōzei2

In this case the logic of the maeku (previous verse) is so opaque that it presents a real challenge. “Thin swath of haze” succeeds, first of all, in making sense.³ Yet that alone would not be enough to add any overtones⁴ to the link. So the poet begins with “In the dim dawn light of . . . morning,” making one think of when the first light of dawn, barely perceptible at all, comes out on the mountain; then he adds the scene of thin haze trailing across—meeting well the challenge of “not a robe at all.”

13	我が故郷と 鳥ぞさへづる 誰植ゑし 木末の野べに 霞むらん
	waga furusato to tori zo saezuru	“This is our home now,” the birds twitter away.
	tare ueshi kozue no nobe ni kasumuran	Who planted them: those trees out in the fields enveloped in mist?     Shinkei5

Standing in complete ruin is a village in the fields, where trees planted long ago are now enveloped in haze, and no trace remains of the former inhabitants. Seeing the birds in the trees—now the only remaining occupants of the place—the author has put great feeling into linking to the verse “‘This is our home now,’ / the birds twitter away.” The stylistic conception of the link is ingenious and at the same time deeply moving.

14	簾の内の 衣の音なひ 軒近き 花の匂ひに 月更けて
	sudare no uchi no kinu no otonai	From within bamboo blinds, the rustle of silken robes.
	noki chikaki hana no nioi ni tsuki fukete	Near the eaves— a fragrance of blossoms in deepening moonlight.     Chiun6

Although creating a link to “the rustle of silken robes” presents a real challenge, that phrase is so crucial that one cannot ignore it. The sound of robes coming from inside blinds as the flowers bloom fragrantly in the moonlight shining on the nearby eaves—that makes for a scene one can easily imagine. The tsukeku (two-verse link) by itself is both elegant and ingenious.

15	思はぬ色を 心にぞ見る 夕まぐれ 友のまれなる 花に来て
	omowanu iro o kokoro ni zo miru	In my heart I discover an unexpected color.
	yūmagure tomo no mare naru hana ni kite	As dusk gathers, only the rare friend comes to see the blossoms.     Senjun7

In this case the link hinges on the word “color” in the phrase “unexpected color.”⁸ The meaning is this: In the daytime, many people come to view the blossoms, but after those people have left, if you stand beneath the trees in the quiet of dusk and gaze at them all alone, the color of the blossoms will be piercing. At such a moving time, you see in your own heart that those who hurriedly looked at the blossoms and departed do not have the quality to be properly moved. To “discover” in one’s heart means to “understand” in one’s heart. A link of deep feeling, I would say.⁹

16	奥山住みも 春ぞ知らるる 鳥の鳴く 朝戸開くれば 花咲きて
	okuyamazumi mo haru zo shiraruru	Even mountain dwellers are aware of springtime.
	tori no naku asato akureba hana sakite	A bird calls, and I open the door at morning to flowering trees.     Katamori10

There is nothing special to elucidate here. Yet how well the scene of someone living far back in the mountains links to “A bird calls, / and I open the door . . .”! Noticing things of this sort is the essence of this Way. People think only of grand and imposing things as good. Most unfortunate!¹¹

17	とはれぬほどの 奥山もがな 花を風 いづくに咲かば 吹かざらん
	towarenu hodo no okuyama mogana	Ah to be beyond reach, far back in the mountains.
	hana o kaze izuku ni sakaba fukazaran	Is there nowhere flowers bloom but are not blown by the wind?     Katamori12

This link expresses the idea that “Everywhere / one resents the wind / and the world. / Even in Yoshino’s recesses / flowers scatter and fall.”^13...