Pathway to Japanese Literature

After Parting

*After Parting*

We did not meet.

I did not even see,

My village here,

They rode a horse through,

The horse also neighed.

I also cried.
Though we cannot meet—
They’ve come intending to meet.

Burning Mountain Ballad

Of Gojo-kan

The courtesan—

In the mountain, a pheasant called.

It was a day.

Hooded cloak donned—
Kataoka's horse she rode—
Was conveyed onward.
The horse let out a sudden cry.

The courtesan—
Shouldered hooded cloak—
Face hidden—
A pheasant cries.
Summit’s—
Mountain foothills—
She crossed.
On the night she crossed,
Summit’s—

The mountain burned, but

The fields did not burn.

Silver grass—
By Kataoka's
horse was grazed upon—
Buds sprouted.

Otayo
Last night’s kitchen
At the water jar
Tilted her head slightly.
She listened, entranced.
Otayo at the back door
Cricket
On a moonlit night,
Morning glory’s
On vine leaves sings.
The sound of insects

Otayo, sixteen—
What did she hear
That made the maiden’s chest
Dance?
She dreamed the same dream.
That next morning

The cricket fled and vanished.

Cricket.

Silver grass flowers—

Who would see them?

She bound her hair—

In western mountains,

Silver grass flowers—

For whom should it be undone?

Tightened her obi.

In the eastern mountains too,

Silver grass flowers.

By silver grass's withered leaves,

She was deceived.

Otsuna-sama—

The bull-headed shrike cries.
Migratory birds

Spring rain on the mountain

In fields, silver grass flowers.
The shadow of flowers—
Swallows.
Last year in Hitachi’s
hometown mountains,
the swallows came.
Swallows.

Though the rain fell,
the swallows
found no rest among the flowers.

Migratory birds
In fields and mountains
Spring rain’s—
The rain fell finer than thread.
It fell thin.
Three-time Hat
Mounted upon horseback.
Three-time Hat
The reins were taken.
A boxwood comb
“Because the wild geese cry—
Listen to that,”
“When we pass through the castle town,”

The horse said.

Sunset glow.

At the foot of the mountain,

Far away,

The skylark warbles.

Blue Field Plain

The voice is distant.

Dusk’s

The sky hung hazy.
A haze of flowers.
The skylark warbled.
Distant,
at the mountain's foot,
the vast sky—
the sunset's crimson glow—

The day waned,
The cherry blossoms burned crimson
They all burned.

Riverside Willow.

Blow, south wind.

On ears of wheat
Riverside willow’s
Silhouette.
Already this year too,
Arrowhead’s
Flowers bloomed scattered here and there.
Days of waiting and passing—
She did, but—
Riverside willow’s
Silhouette.

Parents on the mountain—

Kazurakashi.

Why these days

this mountain longing?

In the thicket—a Japanese cornel tree.

In the field—brambles.

The Japanese cornel and brambles—

had been forgotten.

In the thicket’s dappled shade,

the Japanese bush warbler—

Had it stayed unharmed?

It sang.

On the mountain—two parents
The parents—
In the thicket’s dappled shade,
The Japanese bush warbler—
Riverside willow’s
Without even seeing the flowers.
Blow, south wind.
On the ears of wheat.
Clappers clattering.
The banks of the Yodo River—
Rain brewing.
Silver grass’s pure white
The ears swayed.
Hurry, riverside—
At the riverboat.
Small sedge hat’s
Clappers clattered.
A riverside siskin sang.
Yodo River's
Wore a small sedge hat

Flower Maiden
Riverside mugwort’s
On withered leaves
Returning small boat’s
The oar resounds.
Sing, Blossom Bride

Flower Maiden
Yodo Riverboat
The day ended.
Beneath the small sedge hat
The crescent moon's
Brows were concealed.
Clappers clattering.
Crow—
Blown by the wind
Rustling softly—
Mountain's dead leaves
All had fallen.

In Kiso, the nutmeg-yew's
The fruit ripens.
Return to Shinano,

wandering crow—
in the tea tree fields—
eats beans.
the pigeon in the field—
where does it sing?

Eurasian wren

My older sister

In the bamboo thicket
Rustle rustle, behind the house—
Eurasian wren
Without telling anyone
Stay here for me
At the end of last year too,

In the bamboo thicket

Rustle rustle, behind the house—

Eurasian wren.

Without telling anyone,

stay here for me.

Wilderness
wilderness

Though every flower that bears the name does bloom,
the one called wife
the flower does not bloom.

Oh, how lonely

At the end of the wilderness,
the blooming flowers—
could they be called wife?

Oh，how lonely
Clouds blown by wind fly—
The wilderness' edge，the field's edge
For me—why—
Would they feel longing？

Sōma Kaidō

Of the Sōma Kaidō

Mr. Umaoi
With his shoulders cutting through the wind,
Headed south.
The inexperienced maiden—
Hazy crimson—

Even the blooming cherry blossoms
Hazy crimson—
A crow in the rice paddy?
Mr. Umaoi
Deceiving the innocent,
Never came again
Along the Sōma Kaidō

“Mr. Umaoi!”

To the innocent maiden—
What had she become?

The Loom House Window

Suke-san, Suke-san

This Suke-san

In the east, a flower wife

In the center

Riverside willow’s

wooden pillow

Suke-san, Suke-san

This Suke-san

Muffled Kohama’s
sea’s sound
reaches even the loom house window—
resounds!

It resounds.

Sorrowful Parting

Though they gazed upon the sea,
the sea did not shine.
Though they gazed upon the mountain,
the mountain did not shine.
Clouds of passing showers—
at the rain-soaked door,
for my sake they got drenched.
There were people too.

Nakasendo was
mountain country.
Hitachi-Kashima was
sea country.
This was Tama-dama—

Fifty-ri's

They crossed the mountain.

A parting now?
Crows cry ceaselessly.
A little while longer—
Beyond the mountain,
Let them cry.
Tonight’s single night—
Of sorrowful parting—

With tears together—
They conversed.

Komuro’s Kozasa
Peered through the back door from behind.
Returned.
A dark blue apron and hemp-lined straw sandals.

To you alone
Let’s kindle our passion—
Who wept and parted—Komuro’s

Kozasa

Peering through the back door—from behind.
They returned.
Dark blue aprons. Hemp-lined sandals.

Twelve Bridges

Truly to Itako—

If you’re coming—

Saruhara-Kisui—

There must be a teahouse.

Sister, let us eat.

Oh Sister—

The flower-maidens of dawn’s parting—

The rain falls as tears, oh!

A single night’s borrowed rest—
Arm pillow—
Sung as a traveling wife
Tomorrow brings shame—oh Sister.
Satsuki’s sun blazes down
Plant irises too.
Shall we go see the courtesans of Jūrokushima?

Even as the rain falls, flowers bloom.

evening sky

At dusk,
Gazing at the sky—
Always fleeting—
Nothing but ephemeral things.

Silver grass flowers—
bloomed on their ears—
autumn flowers
for their reason—
lonely—wasn’t it?

Even were love cast aside—
gazing at the sky—
it came to mind—
lonely—wasn’t it?

Hemp stalk fields

Otake, seventeen.

Hemp stalk fields.

Even hemp leaves—
When they wither, desolate—

Otake, seventeen.

Hemp stalk fields.

What am I to do? She cried alone.

She cried alone.

Mole crickets

The plasterers, the plasterers

They built a storehouse.

Three mole crickets

They emerged and cried.

The carpenters, the carpenters

They built a house.

She gazed vacantly at the dear Moon.

She was gazing.

Cowrie shell.

Shore's shore,
cowrie shell—
waves thud thud,
waves thud thud,
cowrie shell.

“From today, as two,
let us live.
You too.”
“I too.”

Cowrie shell.

Hunkered down.

Hunkered down, hunkered down—
Days passed by.
This morning too—thick and heavy—
They slept hunkered down.
“Wake up,”
if you said it cross-legged,
glint glint—
only their eyes showed
through gaps in the wall.
Under the blazing sun,

“It’s windy outside,”

They slept hunkered down.

A solitary house.

The older sister was deceived by a man.

Was deceived.

The solitary house in the fields'

Cricket.

Was sold to the factory.

The younger sister

Clatter clatter.

She lived.

The older sister was deceived by a man.

Was deceived.

The solitary house in the fields'

Cricket.
On the blue silver grass
The falling rain
Drip-drop drip-drop
It rained.

Musashino.
In Musashino bloomed
a single
flower—withered it bloomed.
“You… you…”
Musashino’s

From within the grass, it bloomed.

In my heart
the day of love’s
flower—will it bloom again?

From within the grass
Musashino’s
flower bloomed withered.

Chirr-chirr cicadas.

It must have been first love—at Setoyama.

Chirr-chirr cicadas

were chirping.

We had parted and grown distant because of you.

“We parted ways,” they said.

It must be first love—at Setoyama.

Chirr-chirr cicadas

They are chirping.

Okayo

Last year, July.
It was behind the wooden hut.
The moon wore a halo.

The evening the moon wore its halo.
Even the dew on the grass
Was glittering.

“We parted in tears.”

“Can you forget, Okayo?”

White Dew Insect

Mayfly's

Life that knows no morrow—

A message came,

What shall I do?

One after another—

Faintly white

Flower, perhaps.

Lonely and forlorn—another

Bloom withered,

Flower, perhaps.

Sorrowfully—two more

Bloomed through tears,

Flower, perhaps.

In tears, it bloomed—
A flower, perhaps.
A mayfly’s—
A life thinner than thread—
A message arrived, but—
What should I do?

Wild geese
This morning too—southward.
Shimousa's
wild geese cried and cried as they departed.
"Farewell, farewell," they cried.
Shimousa's
wind blew as they departed.

They parted from their parents.
The wild geese gazing at their homeland's sky, perhaps.
Due to their traveler’s lot,
they departed in Shimousa's blowing wind.

Wagtail
Would there be no meeting?
At Juurokushima

Of Itako Dejima
to the drenched wagtail—
of Itako Dejima
the drenched wagtail
always came in spring
and returned in autumn.

A bird flying through skies:
red stood the temple’s
crape myrtle blossoms,
white spread the field’s
buckwheat flowers.

Because it was a sky-flying bird—
the nest grew dear;
having parted from its child—
the child grew dear.

When flowering quince blooms
in that homeland—
return there once,
and all grow dear.

Withered Mountain Song

of Itako Dejima

May rain—
During what night
Does it fall?
Wither completely
Of the withered mountain
Wind—how many days

How many days had it blown?
Hitachi Kashima’s
On the sacred mountain of Hitachi Kashima,
My tears’ rain—
Fall, rain.

Gion-machi

Yuzen’s red blazes

Gion-machi

Silver threads of
The rain drove down in slanting sheets.
On an auburn snake's-eye umbrella,
Even the falling rain—
From above and below, it drove down.
Birds cried at Kamo River's riverside.
River plovers—
At the crossroads where I parted from you,

The rain drove down incessantly.

In the haze.
Sweet tea
boiled.
Tea.

It boiled.

The bell—in the haze.

It rang within.

Sweet tea burned.

Tea.

It burned.

Small birds too in the haze—

They cried within.

Sweet tea—

It splashed.

Tea.

It splashed.

Flowers too in the haze.

Bloomed within.

Sweet tea burned.

Tea.

It burned.

The bell—in the haze.

It rang within.

Day of Love
Spring's lingering
In the waning day
Even crimson flowers
Were mourned

Last evening, in the field
She waited for a lover
She waited—
Now it is the past.
At summer’s end,
Dayflower’s
Even white flowers
Even white flowers were mourned.

On the riverside bank.
With a lover
She wept—

Now it was the past.

Fireflies in the Marsh

One Two Three

Temple in the fields—

The bell rings.

Face.

Pale.

Traveler,
field temple’s—

The bell—

The bell resonates across the fields.

The dragonfly—
Marsh—
At algae flowers—

Dew—
Vegetation’s
Dew fell on leaves.
The marsh—
Fireflies—

All burned.

Pea blossoms.

Pea blossoms.

Otayo—twenty.

Twenty-one.

Lies. Twenty.

Twenty-one.

Otayo—in the field.

What was I doing?

Red pea

I was looking at the flowers.

Island.

The offshore islet—

Humbled itself.

The detached islet too—

Subdued itself.

The detached islet—

All longed—

The offshore islet too—

All longed—

Waves struck—

Even the waves—
toward the offshore islet—
humbled themselves.
The scattering flowers—
“We must part ways!” they cried.

The scattering flowers—
They must have been crying in their hearts.
"We aren’t crying," they insist—
yet—
They were blurred with tears.

They cried and parted.

If they were flowers—

Wouldn't that be pitiable—?

After all, we two had to part—
We must part—
We were two who should never have been.
The storehouse wall—
In my chest,

The fire of love—

When will it—

When would it disappear?
The hearth's clay
burned with
a birch-colored flame.
You were surely
the dusk-lit
flowers blooming in the field—
their dew, perhaps—
On the storehouse wall
a shared
umbrella had been inscribed.

Tragic Love

"I love you—"

Faintly, but—

It must have resonated from the heart's depths.

Do not forget—

Faintly, yet—

A teardrop fell.

Both you and I,

This ephemerality—

Would we become nameless withered grass?

Were we to die—

Just so—

We two would vanish without trace.

Ephemeral Days

Your message’s—

From the day it came—

A sorrowful rumor arose.

They pleaded to have it washed away with water—

To think it’s a dream—

A mystery—or not?

Though hastily written—

In kana characters,

It was inscribed: "Tears".
They pleaded to have it washed away with water—
Hot tears—
A matter—or not?

Grass sprouts
If it’s a red flower,
Deem it aflame.

The young girls

All their bodies burn.

White cloths

Tie white cloths behind.

As red flowers

Their bodies alone burn.

Shimousa no Oki

Last year they parted.

Shimousa’s—

Oki even now—

Is she still there?

When they called her a floating waterweed’s flower—

Upon hearing—

Of the floating waterweed

She wept at being named its bloom.

Shimousa’s—

Oki even now—

Is she still there?

Waiting for herself, waiting—
In Shimousa
without marrying—

Is she still there?

Crossroads

At the crossroads of the road—
A crow cawed.
Strange—thudding—
A crow cawed.

What could this mean?
It echoed through her chest.
Today again she swung her headwrap—
The crow cawed once more.

Migratory birds

Migratory birds were migrating

Of the withered mountain

Crossing over the small bamboo grass

Spiraling in swirling spirals

Of the withered mountain

Crossing over the small bamboo grass

On the small bamboo grass of the withered mountain

Swirling—

Spiraling in swirling spirals as they crossed over.

Oharu Musume

I

Oharu Musume is

She was harvesting wheat.
At her heel—

“How’s it going?” they asked.

The mother and father were facing upward.

They were facing upward toward the sky.

The fair-weather horse-patterned geta—

They clattered sporadically.

II

The hazy moonlit night—

The hazy moonlit night was dimly glowing.

Oharu Musume was also

She was in a daze.

On nights when the wind blew,

she had come to the bathhouse.

When it had run out,

it was clatter-clatter.

III

Oharu Musume watched the konjac balls.
The true dark night—
The waning moon.
Oharu Musume too—
The waning moon.

The continuing dark night—
Thud-thud.

IV

Oharu Musume—

“No way!” she said.

“Oh, really now?”

She was watching from the window.

In the falling rain,
Passed through in folk song rhythm—
The snake-eye umbrella
Swished and swayed.

V

Time passes swiftly.

She’s already eighteen.

The handsome man too—

He’s of marriageable age.

Oharu Musume

She stepped out and gazed at the sky.
Man—from the sky—
Why don't you fall from the sky?

On the shore
Oh parent-longing young sparrow
Longing for your parents
Have you come to the sea?
They had crossed over the sea and gone.

The parent sparrows—
They have forgotten you entirely.
No matter how long you wait,
You’ll never meet your original parents again.
Go back, go back

If you linger at the sea’s edge till nightfall,
Oh young sparrow,
You’ll end up a true stray sparrow!
In the parents' old nest,
The younger sister—
Is your older sister not here, young sparrow?
On the distant

On the sandy plain,

Already, the day was setting from the mountains.

Oh sea bulbul,

The young sparrow was perched on the shore and didn’t move.

Won’t you deceive it into returning to the mountains?

Silver Grass Blades

“If we die, we die together,”

Shinkichi-san

with the Otama-bou from behind

They cried in the field.

With a strained grunt, Shinkichi-san

The tip of his little finger—

With a thin silver grass

He cut through it with the blade.
The Otama-bou from behind too—
Crying all through it—their fingers,
Together using silver grass,
They sliced clean through them.

Ginger Field

Of the withered mountain

The silver grass ears emerge, flickering,

The red field's chili peppers

Shall we tie them as obi sashes?

Shall we make them into tasuki sashes?

After all, the field’s chili peppers

If someone throws a stone,

The stone split in two.

The stone is shining at the gravel bank.

Yasu's wife's children
Shuffling along,
Already shining
Of the ginger field
Dark night.
They came out to the back gate; [the gravel] was shining.

The wind blows.

Of one’s own home—

The wind blows through the marsh behind.

So deeply

The wind blows.

The more one looks,

The wind blows.

From the mountain side,

The wind blows.

The wide riverbed’s

On the gravel stones

The wind moans and moans.
It comes blowing.
Where I was born—
this village's well bucket—
the wind blows.

The wind blew.

The wind moaned and moaned,

blowing through.

Bamboo grass thicket—

Snail,

Rotted into silence,
Snail,
Spiraling snail,
What did I long for?
In the bamboo grass thicket
Pitter-patter, softly the rain fell.
In the twilight between dream and waking,

I lived.

Snail,

The cosmos—sorrowful to me—

Between the flowers, rain falls.

Now my

This home is final.

Snail.
There was no need for rice fields.
There was no need for fields.

In the bamboo grass thicket

Pitter-patter, softly the rain fell.

Firefly grass.

Outside the hedge.

Coming to weep.

Enchanted by the beloved song of hometown,

Enchanted by the beloved song,

Outside the hedge.
She came again to weep.
In Shimotsuke’s weaving factory,
Withering firefly grass.

Outside the hedge,
my hometown’s
beloved song—

I listened and wept.

Frost-withered.

In the back rice fields

A snipe cried in the evening.

Even on stormy nights in the cowpea field

You came stealthily to meet
and gave yourself.

In the back rice fields,
a snipe cried in the evening.
Though both snipe and fields stood frost-withered,
you came once more tonight to meet
and would give.

Oito

Of the grove of mixed trees

The woodpecker

The withered cedar.

Pecked and cried out.

The withered cedar tree.

The woodpecker

Senselessly, relentlessly,

Pecked and cried out.

The fastened tasuki—

Unaware it had come undone,
With tears afloat,
Oito watched.
Wheat ears—
Scattered—see—wheat ears.
Around the time they emerge,
The foxes' eyes glowed intently.

Eyes gleamed.

Sixteen / The liquor shop’s

Sister and daughter
to persistently yipping foxes
they followed them.

Behind the liquor shop,
in the bamboo thicket,
the foxes had come again
and were peeking.

They were peeking.

Factory Girl's Song

On rainy days

Raindrops

Drizzling

We don’t long for anything at all—

How we long for days off

Empty lunchbox

Raindrops

Drizzling

Every time hunger gnaws

We yearn for our parents back home

What a horrible foreman!

Raindrops

Drizzling

We don’t long for anything at all—

How we long for days off—

Spin, spin!

The motor spins.

What shall we set ourselves to?

Raindrops
Drizzling.
Human trafficking ships

To the human trafficking ships
were sold and taken away

Of the poor village
Mountain lesser cuckoo
Weather,

Carry on.

The harbor—

Be calm.

Oh everyone,

Goodbye—

Crying and crying,

They said.