Japanese Literature Part 34

[Footnote 133: The Mikado is meant. The feudal system did not grow up till many centuries later.]

[Footnote 134: The N-a-h-i are sounded like our English word nigh, and therefore form but one syllable to the ear.]

[Footnote 135: Anciently (and this custom is still followed in some parts of j.a.pan) the hair of female children was cut short at the neck and allowed to hang down loosely till the age of eight. At twelve or thirteen the hair was generally bound up, though this ceremony was often frequently postponed till marriage. At the present day, the methods of doing the hair of female children, of grown-up girls, and of married women vary considerably.]

[Footnote 136: The original of this stanza is obscure, and the native commentators have no satisfactory interpretation to offer.]

[Footnote 137: In the original the t.i.tle is "The Beggar's Dialogue,"

there being two poems, of which that here translated is the second.

The first one, which is put into the mouth of an unmarried beggar, who takes a cheerier view of poverty, is not so well fitted for translation into English.]

[Footnote 138: Because, according to the Buddhist doctrine of perpetually recurring births, it is at any given time more probable that the individual will come into the world in the shape of one of the lower animals.]

[Footnote 139: A literal translation of the j.a.panese idiom.]

[Footnote 140: The j.a.panese commentators are puzzled over the meaning of the pa.s.sage "with skirt uplifted, drew near and fondled me." To the European mind there seems to be nothing obscure in it. The mother probably lifted her skirt to wipe her eyes, when she was crying. It is evidently a figurative way of saying that the mother was crying.]

LOVE SONGS

ON BEHOLDING THE MOUNTAIN

_Composed by the commander of the forces of the Mikado Zhiyomei_

The long spring day is o'er, and dark despond My heart invades, and lets the tears flow down, As all alone I stand, when from beyond The mount our heav'n-sent monarch's throne doth crown.

There breathes the twilight wind and turns my sleeve.

Ah, gentle breeze! to turn, home to return, Is all my prayer; I cannot cease to grieve On this long toilsome road; I burn, I burn!

Yes! the poor heart I used to think so brave Is all afire, though none the flame may see, Like to the salt-kilns there by Tsunu's wave, Where toil the fisher-maidens wearily.

_Anon_.

LOVE IS PAIN

'Twas said of old, and still the ages say, "The lover's path is full of doubt and woe."

Of me they spake: I know not, nor can know, If she I sigh for will my love repay.

My heart sinks on my breast; with bitter strife My heart is torn, and grief she cannot see.

All unavailing is this agony To help the love that has become my life.

_Anon_.

HITOMARO TO HIS MISTRESS

Tsunu's sh.o.r.e, Ihami's brine, To all other eyes but mine Seem, perchance, a lifeless mere, And sands that ne'er the sailor cheer.

Ah, well-a-day! no ports we boast, And dead the sea that bathes our coast; But yet I trow the winged breeze Sweeping at morn across our seas,

And the waves at eventide From the depths of ocean wide, Onward to Watadzu bear The deep-green seaweed, rich and fair;

And like that seaweed gently swaying, Winged breeze and waves obeying, So thy heart hath swayed and bent And crowned my love with thy content.

But, dear heart! I must away, As fades the dew when shines the day; Nor aught my backward looks avail, Myriad times cast down the vale,

From each turn the winding road Takes upward; for thy dear abode Farther and still farther lies, And hills on hills between us rise.

Ah! bend ye down, ye cruel peaks, That the gate my fancy seeks, Where sits my pensive love alone, To mine eyes again be shown!

_Hitomaro._

NO TIDINGS

The year has come, the year has gone again, And still no tidings of mine absent love!

Through the long days of spring all heaven above And earth beneath, re-echo with my pain.

In dark coc.o.o.n my mother's silk-worms dwell; Like them, a captive, through the livelong day Alone I sit and sigh my soul away, For ne'er to any I my love may tell.

Like to the pine-trees I must stand and pine,[141]

While downward slanting fall the shades of night, Till my long sleeve of purest snowy white, With showers of tears, is steeped in bitter brine.

_Anon._

HOMEWARD

From Kaminabi's crest The clouds descending pour in sheeted rain, And, 'midst the gloom, the wind sighs o'er the plain:-- Oh! he that sadly press'd, Leaving my loving side, alone to roam Magami's des'late moor, has he reached home?

_Anon._