君がため | kimi ga tame |
惜しからざりし | oshikarazarishi |
命さへ | inochi sae |
長くもがなと | nagaku mogana to |
思ひけるかな | omoikeru kana |
Fujiwara no Yoshitaka
Fujiwara no Yoshitaka 藤原義孝 (954−974) was a mid-Heian period (平安時代 Heian jidai; 794−1192) court official and poet. Son of Fujiwara no Koretada 藤原伊尹 (also read as Koremasa; 924−972; Hyakunin Isshu 45) and Princess Keishi (恵子女王 Keishi joō; 925−992), he was born into a prominent branch of the Fujiwara 藤原 clan. While his father held some of the highest positions in the country, acting as regent (摂政 sesshō) and Grand Minister (太政大臣 daijō daijin; also called Prime Minister), his mother came from the imperial lineage, − she was daughter of Imperial Prince Yoshiakira (also read as Yoakira; 代明親王 Yoshiakira shinnō 904−937) and granddaughter of Emperor Daigo (醍醐天皇Daigo tennō; 885−930, reigned 897−930). But Yoshitaka himself is remembered not as a grand figure, but as the Later Lesser Captain (後少将 Nochi no shōshō), from a rather low position of Lesser Captain of Right Division of the Inner Palace Guards (右近衛少将 ukon’e shōshō), which he held for roughly three years before his death at the young age of twenty one (in the traditional Japanese system of counting age).
Yoshitaka died from smallpox, during an epidemic of the disease. His death came on the same day as his older brother, Fujiwara no Takakata 藤原挙賢 (953−974), who was known as the Former Lesser Captain (前少将 Saki no shōshō). A historical tale, Ōkagami 大鏡 (The Great Mirror, 11th or 12th century), notes:
The Former Lesser Captain died in the morning and the Later Lesser Captain in the evening. We may imagine how their mother must have felt about losing two sons in one day. People say she was pitiful.
The handsome young Later Lesser Captain had been a devout Buddhist for years. Recognizing that the disease would prove fatal, he told his mother not to treat his body like an ordinary corpse. “I have set my heart on living a while longer to recite the Lotus Sutra,” he said. “I shall be sure to come back.” Then he intoned the “Expedient Devices Chapter” and died.
(trans. McCullough 1980, 141)
Yoshitaka’s devotion to Buddhist teachings, according to which he practised since early childhood, is said to have been exceptional, and he is believed to have been reborn in Amitābha's paradise. But not only this devotion made him stand out, as he was a man of extraordinarily good looks, and superb artistic sensitivity. As another famous passage from Ōkagami notes:
I once saw something that made me think there would never be another man so handsome. It was when he had called at the home of Masanobu, the Ichijō Minister of the Left, after a heavy snowfall. He broke off a snowy twig from a plum tree in front of the mansion and gave it a shake, and the white flakes scattered onto his robes, contrasting vividly with the blue lining of his reversed cloak sleeve. It was a wonderful sight.
(trans. McCullough 1980, 143−144)
One could say that part of this sensitivity lived on with Yoshitaka’s son Fujiwara no Yukinari 藤原行成 (972−1027), who, although not a great poet, came to be known was one of the outstanding Heian period calligraphers.
Yoshitaka also left his poems and some other writings. His poems are recorded in his personal collection Yoshitaka Shū 義孝集 (Personal Poetry Collection of Yoshitaka) and thirteen of his compositions are included in imperial collections starting with Goshūishū 後拾遺集 (Later Collection of Gleanings; 1086). He is also believed to have left a diary, consisting of one volume, but it does not appear to have survived to this day.
Yoshitaka’s poetic achievements were recognised by Fujiwara no Norikane 藤原範兼 (1107−1165), who included Yoshitaka among his Late Classical Thirty−Six Poetic Immortals (中古三十六歌仙 Chūko sanjūrokkasen). And yet, Yoshitaka's poetry and this recognition can make one wonder, what else could he have written had he lived any longer...
For you, I would have given up my life...
Yoshitaka’s poem in the Hyakunin Isshu comes from the second book of love poems in Goshūishū, where it is preceded by a headnote: sent after coming back home from lady’s residence, − and this allows to indicate the poem as part of correspondence between young lovers, more precisely as a morning-after poem (後朝の歌 kinuginu no uta), sent to a lady after spending the first night with her.
The poem itself is not overly complex and it’s strength lies not in the use of waka poetry tropes, but in its emotion and wording, through which the poet produces a composition capable of tugging at the heartstrings of the reader.
The first line of the poem − kimi ga tame, − matches the first line of the 15th Hyakunin Isshu poem by Emperor Kōkō (光孝天皇 Kōkō tennō; 830−887, reigned 884−887), and can be translated as for you or for your sake, although in case of this poem, it is often interpreted as carrying the meaning of for the sake of meeting you.
Second and third lines − oshikarazarishi / inochi sae, − can be read together. They combine to mean even (sae) life (inochi) I thought not precious (oshikarazarishi), or even life I would not have regretted losing. The sole difference between these translations is the rendition of oshikarazarishi, − an adjective with two auxiliary verbs, − which modifies the following noun inochi (life). Its basis is adjective oshi (precious, dear; but also regrettable), used in mizenkei 未然形 or imperfective form oshikara, and supplemented with auxiliary zu (in ren’yōkei 連用形 [continuative form] zara), used for negation, and ki (in rentaikei 連体形[attributive form] shi), signifying personal past. Therefore, depending on the meaning of oshi, oshikarazarishi is read as either I thought not precious or as I would not have regretted [losing].
The fourth line − nagaku mogana to, − provides a stark contrast to the preceding two lines and signifies the change of heart. Whereas before the life was not precious, here expressed is the wish for it to last long. Nagaku means long, while final particle monaga indicates wishes or desires. Such a wish comes as a surprise realisation, as in the fifth line − omoikeru kana, − omoi means to think, and auxiliary keru, often used as a past tense, indicates surprise at noticing something for the first time, while kana adds exclamation.
And so the whole poem can be rendered as:
For you,
even this life of mine,
I thought not precious,
I realised I
wish it was everlasting!
Rather than a demonstration of intricate technique, Yoshitaka’s poem is an elegant and pure expression of feelings. The flow of the poem is beautiful, as he goes from appealing to the reader in the first line, to looking at himself in the second and third lines, and then concluding the poem by noticing the drastic change in himself, caused by the person to whom he appealed at the very beginning. And so, in thirty-one short syllables he, who could have given up his life he thought not precious, comes to realise he wished to live long, so that he could spend it with someone he found dear.