Impassionate gods have never seen crimson that lies in the Tatsuta River.ちはやぶる | Chihayaburu |
神代も聞かず | kami-yo mo kikazu |
竜田川 | Tatsuta-gawa |
からくれなゐに | kara-kurenai ni |
水くぐるとは | mizu kuguru to wa |
Lord Ariwara no Narihira
Ariwara no Narihira 在原業平 (825–880) was a poet and court official of early Heian period (平安時代 Heian jidai; 794–1192). He was born a son of Imperial Prince Abo (阿保親王 Abo shinnō; 792–842) and Imperial Princess Ito (伊都内親王 Ito naishinnō; died 861), who were respectively son of Emperor Heizei (平城天皇Heizei tennō; 773–824) and daughter of Emperor Kanmu (桓武天皇 Kanmu tennō; 735–806). This made Narihira a grandson to both Emperors Kanmu and Heizei, but Kanmu himself being the eldest son of Emperor Heizei meant that Narihira was both grandson and great-grandson of Heizei.
Narihira’s imperial descent, however, did not grant him imperial titles and together with his siblings he was bestowed last name Ariwara 在原 and reduced commoner status. Among Narihira’s siblings was another son of Prince Abo, Narihira’s half-brother, Middle Counselor (中納言 chūnagon) Ariwara no Yukihira 在原行平 (818–893; Hyakunin Isshu 16). But unlike his older half-brother, Narihira was not a successful court official − he only reached the Upper Grade of Junior Fourth Rank (従四位上 jushii jō) and the position of Provisional Middle Captain of the Right Division of Inner Palace Guards (右近衛権中将 ukon’e gon chūjō). But when it came to poetry, in his time Narihira was unrivalled and eighty seven of his poems were selected for various in imperial poetry anthologies. His poetry also became the basis for Ise monogatari 伊勢物語 (Tales of Ise), possibly the most famous famous poetic tale (歌物語 uta-monogatari) and generally one of the earlier surviving tales in Japanese tradition.
Narihira is also considered one of the Six Poetic Immortals 六歌仙 (Rokkasen), who were mentioned by Ki no Tsurayuki 紀貫之 (866?–945?; Hyakunin Isshu 35) in the Japanese preface (仮名序 Kana jo) of Kokinshū 古今集 (Collection of Early and Modern Japanese Poetry; 905), as well as one of Fujiwara no Kintō's 藤原公任 (966–1041; Hyakunin Isshu 55) Thirty-six Poetic Immortals 三十六歌仙 (Sanjūrokkasen).
Ki no Tsurayuki, like of all others, to be fair, was critical of Narihira’s poetry, stating:
The poetry of Ariwara Narihira tries to express to much content in too few words. It resembles a faded flower with a lingering fragrance.
(trans. McCullough 1985, 7)
But reading these words now, we know that Narihira’s poetry has withstood the test of time, one may say that it’s fragrance lingers to this day, and at least now it seems that one of his composition is quite possibly the most famous waka to ever be composed.
The crimson of Tatsuta River
The chihayaburu poem in Ogura Hyakunin Isshu is by now probably the best-known poem of the anthology and maybe even of the whole waka tradition. Although scholars note that it is difficult to call this poem a representative poem of Ariwara no Narihira (Kubota 2009, 26), its inclusion in the Hyakunin Isshu, as well as the variety of ways to read it and the stories it easily lends itself to, makes the poem a fascinating and memorable composition that over time came to represent Narihira as a poet.
There are two main readings of the poem. First one is reading the composition as a depiction of autumn scenery. Because the poem is included in the second book of autumn poems in Kokinshū, and this reading is the most obvious one.
Chihayaburu – the first word in the poem is a makura-kotoba 枕詞 or a pillow word – a fixed expression, which can be found in many other poems as well. Although meanings of makura-kotoba have been lost to time, chihayaburu is thought to mean exhibiting power, and it always modifies words related to kami (gods). And such is the case here, where chihayaburu modifies kami-yo, meaning "age of the gods". This age of the gods is not simply an age long ago, but the age when miraculous events took place, and yet even (mo) in this miraculous age, something was unheard of (kikazu). The first two lines, chihayaburu / kami-yo mo kikazu, connect to: even in the age of almighty gods, unheard of.
At this point, after the opening two lines − chihayaburu / kami-yo mo kikazu − the poem comes to a stop. That is because the negative particle zu is used in shūshikei 終止形 or the final form, which marks the end of a sentence (punctuation did not exist in classical Japanese) and grammatically marks the end of the poem. The poem is therefore employing a pause or kugire (句切れ) after the first two phrases and inversion, grammatically starting the poem at the third line Tatsuta-gawa 竜田川 (Tatsuta river).
Tatsuta-gawa is a river in historical Yamato 大和 province, modern-day Nara 奈良 prefecture, and even over a thousand years later it remains a famous spot for seeing autumn leaves. And because autumn leaves came to be associated with brocade, the word is sometimes present in translations of this poem.
The autumn leaves, however, are not specifically mentioned in the original poem. They are only implied by a specific shade of red in the fourth line, where karakurenai 唐紅 refers to colour very close to crimson. As denoted by the prefix kara 唐, the colour was introduced to Japan from mainland Asia, and was therefore not primarily associated with autumn foliage, but together with famous-for-autumn-leaves Tatsuta river, the crimson of karakurenai undoubtedly implies the red leaves. And even still, the imagery of the poem is not entirely clear because the last line of the poem is a topic of debate.
Classical Japanese orthography expressed sounds k and g in the same characters, therefore the last line can be read as either as mizu kukuru to wa 水くくるとは or as mizu kuguru to wa 水くぐるとは. The original Kokinshū reading seems to have been mizu kukuru to wa, referring to water tie-dyed in crimson, which would allow to render the poem as
Even in the age
of almighty gods
unheard of, −
the waters of Tatsuta are tie-dyed
in crimson.
And in this case the poem is probably nothing more, nothing less than a stunning autumn scenery described in a charming and sophisticated manner. However, Fujiwara no Teika 藤原定家 (1162−1241), who is credited with selecting the Hyakunin Isshu poems, seems to have read the last line as mizu kuguru to wa (Mostow 1996, 192), which in turn changes the meaning of the last two lines to water, flowing under crimson, and gives the poem a possible hidden meaning. The poem then would sound something like:
Even in the age
of almighty gods
unheard of, −
the waters of Tatsuta are flowing
under layers of crimson.
This second reading with mizu kuguru to wa can be interpreted as a well-disguised love poem, where the water flowing under autumn leaves alludes to undying passionate love, which must remain hidden. Although this interpretation is not as well-established, it stems from the Kokinshū headnote and legends surrounding Ariwara no Narihira and a certain lady. The Kokinshū headnote of the chihayaburu poem reads:
Composed on the topic of autumn leaves floating on Tatsuta River, as painted on a screen belonging to the Second Ward Empress [Fujiwara no Kōshi] when she was still called the Lady of the Wardrobe of the Spring Palace [that is, mother of the crown prince].” (Mostow 1996, 192)
Second Ward Empress (二条后 Nijō no kisaki/kisai) or Fujiwara no Takaiko 藤原高子 (also read as Kōshi; 842–910) was daughter of Fujiwara no Nagara 藤原長良 (802–856), consort of Emperor Seiwa (清和天皇 Seiwa tennō; 850–881) and mother of Emperor Yōzei (陽成天皇 Yōzei tennō; 869–949; Hyakunin Isshu 13). Before becoming the consort of Emperor Seiwa, Takaiko served in the retinue of her aunt Fujiwara no Nobuko 藤原順子 (also read as Junshi; 809–871), who was also known as Fifth Ward Empress (五条后 Gojō no kisaki/kisai). Serving the empress meant that Takaiko belonged to the palace of that empress and lived there. And around that time Narihira is believed to have taken interest in her. Book fifteen (Love 5) of Kokinshū starts with a long headnote and Narihira‘s poem. It reads:
Once, quite without premeditation, Narihira began to make love to a lady who lived in the western wing of a palace belonging to the Gojō Empress [Fujiwara Junshi]. Shortly after the Tenth of the First Month, the lady moved away with no word to him. He learned where she had gone, but it was impossible to communicate with her. In the spring of the following year, when the plum blossoms were at their finest, memories of the preceding year drew him back to the western wing on a beautiful moonlit night. He sat on the floor of the bare room until the moon sank low in the sky. | |||
| |||
月やあらぬ | tsuki ya aranu | Is it not the moon? | |
春は昔の | haru ya mukashi no | And is this not the springtime, | |
春ならぬ | haru naranu | the springtime of old? | |
わが身ひとつは | wa ga mi hitotsu wa | Only this body of mine | |
もとの身にして | moto no mi ni shite | The same body as before... | |
Kokinshū・Book 15 (Love 5): 747 |
(trans. Craig McCullough 1985, 165) | ||
This poem is considered one of the more representative works of Narihira as a poet, and its headnote connects it to the chihayaburu poem through Fujiwara no Takaiko, − first, as lady-in-waiting of the Fifth Ward Empress and, years later, as the Second Ward Empress herself. If the story about the affair between Narihira and Takaiko is to be believed, then the chihayaburu poem, composed for Takaiko, could indeed be read as a well-disguised poem of undying passionate love.
And as it happens, many more stories of an unnamed man visiting the future Second Ward Empress when she was still a commoner are told in Ise monogatari. Although the man is never named, numerous poems of Narihira, as well as a reference in Chapter 63 to “Ariwara middle captain” − the position Narihira held at the end of his career (Shirane 2007, 194), − overwhelmingly point to the same Ariwara no Narihira.
The chihayaburu poem is also included in Ise monogatari. There, however, it leaves us wondering, which story about the actually holds true, as it is recorded in chapter 106 with a brief note that reads:
Long ago, while accompanying some princes on an excursion, the man composed a poem beside the bank of the Tatsuta River. (trans. MacMillan 2016)
And so, the poem and its stories leave us wondering, what Narihira could have meant. And while we do not know the correct way to read the poem, we are allowed multiple interpretations, which makes it ever more charming.
There is no poem more pivotal to Chihayafuru than the title poem, Narihira’s Chihayaburu kami-yo mo kikazu Tatsuta-gawa.
Illustrations
Square illustration: Chihayafuru ちはやふる, dir. Asaka Morio 浅香守生 , Madhouse Inc., 2011–2012. / Editing by the blog author.
Poet card: Ariwara no Narihira by Katsukawa Shunshō 勝川春章 1775, carved and pained by David Bull in 1991.
Poem sheet and additional illustrations in the poem analysis section: Chōyaku Hyakunin Isshu: Uta Koi 超訳百人一首うた恋い, dir. Kasai Ken‘ichi カサヰケンイチ, TYO Animations, 2012. / Editing by the blog author.
Chihayafuru notes: Chihayafuru / Edited by the blog author.