物の哀れ
One of the reasons why I love japanese poetry is the focus on impermanence. The cycle of the seasons is a natural reminder of this : the autumn leaves falling from their branches and carried away by the wind, the snow so delicate and so pure piling up on the world only to melt and to disappear like it has never existed, the whirlwinds of cherry blossoms, and the green strength of summer quickly painted of yellow and orange. For us humans, a birthday, an illness, a death in our close circle or maybe even a simple contemplation of a sunset, a river or a cloud dissipating in the sky can be a brutal reminder that there is not a single eternal being or thing in this universe, not even the universe itself. It can be stressful, but also liberating. There is a deep sadness and beauty in impermanence ; the world in which we live in is always changing, and reality sometimes can seem as ephemeral as dreams.
This confusion between dreams and reality is one of the thematics of the Kokinshû and Shinkokinshû ; the waka talking about that are some of my favorites, and I thought I would share some of them here.
But just before starting, I invite you to listen to this video while you read :
In the modern world, unfortunately, millions of people have to live with promiscuity, ugly architecture, dirtiness, pollution, roads, cars, people who spit on the ground, noises, and all the other annoying things about reality. But virtual worlds offer an escape, like Ghost of Tsushima, one of the most beautiful games I’ve ever played ; the particles system and the fields of flowers are so incredible, it’s really a must-have on PlayStation (I think the PC version will come out soon ?). You can even compose haiku in this game, and in the Iki expansion, Jin actually talks one time about the Kokinshû after he played flute for the deers. How amazing is that ?
新古今集 139 - Fujiwara no Ietaka
桜花夢か現か白雲のたえてつねなき峰の春風
The cherry flowers,
are they real ? or a dream ?
Ephemeral white clouds
disappearing - spring wind in
the summits of the mountains.
新古今集 625 - Monk Saigyô
つの国の浪花の春は夢なれや葦の枯れ葉に風わたる也
This springtime at Naniwa
in the province of Tsu, was it
nothing but a dream ?
The wind is spreading among
the dead leaves of the reeds…
古今集 641 - Unknown author
ほととぎす夢か現か朝露の起きて分かれし暁の声
When we woke up
and had to part each other,
was it a dream ? or
was it real, the cuckoo’s voice
in the dew, before the dawn ?
古今集 942 - Unknown author
世の中は夢か現か現とも夢とも知らずありてなければ
Is this world
an illusion ? or a reality ?
Whether or not it’s
real or a dream I don’t know ;
it exists, and doesn’t exist.
1 : Fuji from Gotenyama at Shinagawa on the Tôkaidô (from the Thirty-six Views of Mt. Fuji), Katsushika Hokusai, 1830-32.
2 : Cherry Blossoms Party at the Chiyoda Palace, Toyohara Chikanobu, 1894.
Notes
新古今集 139
I’ve read 2 different versions of this poem. One with つねなき (this was the one I read in the book of Laurel Rasplica Rodd) and one with つれなき. If we keep つれなき, this word comes from tsurenashi and I’ve read that it applies to the wind : cold wind. I chose to keep tsunenaki to give the meaning “temporary, ephemeral” to the cherry flowers.
There are 2 kakekotoba :
- たえて : it either comes from the adverb 絶えて (totally, completely, entirely) or from the verb 絶ゆ (to cease, to vanish, to die) ;
- しら : white / don’t know (with the suffix zu I believe)
Poems of the Shinkokinshû often referenced poems from the Kokinshû, these allusions are called honkadori. Here, there are allusions to the KKS 942 and 601.
新古今集 625
Naniwa is the ancient name for Ôsaka. I’ve seen different kanji combinations to write it.
古今集 641
I chose to write “we” because the poet clearly implies that he/she was with someone, and they had to be separated in the morning.
About the word akatsuki : I’ve read in the classical dictionary of Haruo Shirane that it means “just before the dawn”, but in modern dictionaries, I’ve always seen it referenced as “the dawn”. Perhaps it can still means “before the dawn” in modern language, but if not, it’s interesting to see how the meaning of a word like this can change with time.
古今集 942
I’ve seen the word nakereba in other sentences in the book of Haruo Shirane, like this one : hane nakereba → since they did not have wings […]. I’ve looked up the Reader and essential dictionary and there was this word in one of the grammar sections of Hôjôki. It says that nakereba is the izenkei of the adjective 無し (non-existing, not living) with the conjunctive particle ba. In the Bungo introduction book of Helen McCullough, it was saying that, when ba follows the izenkei, it usually means “because”, “since”.
So in this poem, with arite, I think it basically means : because/since the world exists and doesn’t exist, I don’t know (shirazu) if the world is real or a dream.
And I think the tomo…tomo is basically this grammatical rule.
Like always, please correct me if I made any mistakes.