来ぬ人を | konu hito wo |
まつほの浦の | Matsuho no ura no |
夕なぎに | yūnagi ni |
焼くや藻塩の | yaku ya moshio no |
身もこがれつつ | mi mo kogaretsutsu |
Provisional Middle Counselor Teika
In the world of waka poetry, not many names are as famous and carry as much weight as Fujiwara no Teika 藤原定家 (also read as Fujiwara no Sadaie; 1162–1241). He was son of eminent poet Fujiwara no Shunzei 藤原俊成 (also read as Fujiwara no Toshinari; 1114–1204; Hyakunin isshu 83) and poetess known as Bifukumon-in no Kaga 美福門院加賀 (?–1193), who had served as lady-in-waiting to Bifukumon-in 美福門院 or Empress Tokushi (also read as Nariko, born Fujiwara no Tokushi [Nariko] 藤原得子; 1117−1160).
Teika was not Shunzei’s first son but he was the most talented and therefore became the heir of eminent poetic Mikohidari 御子左 house of Fujiwara 藤原 clan. He was poet, critic, editor and even copyist, whose contributions to Japanese poetic and literary traditions are so numerous and significant that without them the Japanese literary tradition may look unrecognisably different.
Nowadays, when waka poetry is just another old tradition, Ogura Hyakunin Isshu 小倉百人一首 (Hyakunin Isshu 百人一首 for short), of which at least the poem selection is attributed to Teika, can be considered his most famous work, but Hyakunin Isshu is just a minuscule part of everything Teika has done. From his poetic début in 1178 and his first one-hundred poem sequence Shōgaku Hyakushu 小学百首 of 1181 to some of his last editorial work with Hyakunin Shūka 百人秀歌 (Superior Poems of One Hundred Poets) around 1235 and probably Ogura Hyakunin Isshu around the same time or sometime later, Teika’s literary work was both public and personal, both creative and editorial, and today all of that work is part of undeniably important legacy.
In Teika’s time, imperial poetry collections remained at the core of poetic world and in the first decade of 13th century, when Retired Emperor Gotoba (後鳥羽天皇 Gotoba tennō / 後鳥羽院 Gotoba-in; 1180–1239; Hyakunin Isshu 99) commissioned a new imperial collection, Teika served as one of the members of Wakadokoro 和歌所 (Poetry Bureau) and as one of the compilers of Shinkokinshū 新古今集 (New Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern; 1205) − one of the most important collections in the history of waka composition. And many years later, in early 1230s, under the command of Emperor Gohorikawa (後堀河天皇 Gohorikawa tennō; 1212–1234), Teika was commissioned to work as the sole compiler of Shinchokusenshū 新勅撰集 (New Imperial Waka Collection; 1235) − the ninth imperial collection, which marked Teika as the first person granted the honour of compiling two imperial poetry collections.
But not only imperial collections were compiled in Teika’s time and among his works there is a number of poetic treatises and fascinating smaller collections of exemplary poems, which shine the light on what Teika considered superior poetry. Most among such works are Kindai shūka 近代秀歌 (Superior Poems of Our Time; 1209) and Eiga no taigai 詠歌大概 (Essentials of Poetic Composition; 1222), but also an exemplary collection like the aforementioned Hyakunin Shūka, and even the Hyakunin Isshu.
Teika also compiled his own poems, with two hundred of his very best compositions featured in a format similar to a poetry competition (歌合 utaawase) and called Teika-kyō hyakuban jikaawase 定家卿百番自歌合 (The One Hundred Round Contest of Lord Teika’s Own Poems; 1217), while many more − over 3800 poems, composed on various occasions, at various ages, many in formal sequences of one hundred poems (百首 hyakushu) − are in his personal collection Shūi gusō 拾遺愚草 (Meagre Gleanings), the sheer volume of which seems to suggest that Teika’s own poetic achievements were at least as much hard work as his innate poetic genius.
Throughout his life Teika also kept a fascinating record of his time and people in a diary, now called Meigetsuki 明月記 (The Record of the Clear Moon; see excerpts), of which about one third survives. And Teika’s time was one of tumultuous change. He started keeping the diary in early 1180s, the very end of Heian period (平安時代 Heian jidai; 794−1192), and kept it through the rest of his life, spanning the beginning of Kamakura period (鎌倉時代 Kamakura jidai; 1192−1333), when imperial authority in the old capital, known today as Kyōto 京都, had to acknowledge a new political power – the military government in Kamakura 鎌倉, known as the Kamakura shogunate (鎌倉幕府 Kamakura bakufu). The friction between Kyōto and Kamakura was undeniable and reached its culmination in Jōkyū War (承久の乱 Jōkyū no ran) of 1221, when Retired Emperor Gotoba attacked Kamakura, but was defeated and exiled, as were Gotoba’s sons, Retired Emperors Tsuchimikado (土御門天皇 Tsuchimikado tennō / 土御門院 Tsukimikado-in; 1195–1231) and Juntoku (順徳天皇 Juntoku tennō / 順徳院 Juntoku-in ; 1197–1242; Hyakunin isshu 100).
Meanwhile Teika’s standing remained largely unchanged and eventually even rose. That was at least partly due to Teika’s relationship with Gotoba, which was strained from the time of Shinkokinshū. Gotoba, himself a talented poet, significantly influenced the editorial process of Shinkokinshū, and thus often clashed with Teika, who at the time was a rather low-ranking official of Senior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade (正四位下 shōshii, ge). These Shinkokinshū disagreements did not exclude Teika from Gotoba’s poetic circle and for years after the anthology had been finished Teika remained involved in poetic activities of Gotoba and his sons, but everything changed in 1220, when Teika was detached from the imperial palace and excluded form Gotoba’s activities. Apparently, this happened because of a couple of poems that Teika sent after he was repeatedly summoned to the palace despite refusing as it was the death anniversary of his dearly beloved mother (Atkins 2017, 30–33).
But in the year following this incident Gotoba was exiled and Teika was allowed to return to the imperial palace. He was soon promoted to Junior Second Rank (従二位 ju'nii), a few years later, in 1227, to Senior Second Rank (正二位 shōnii) and finally, in 1232, to the position of Provisional Middle Counselor (権中納言 gon chūnagon), from which he retired a year later, at the age of seventy. By then Teika, who was plagued by illnesses from a young age, had many different ailments but he nevertheless finished Shinchokusenshū and continued to work all the way until passing away in 1241.
In his late years Teika’s home scriptorium was incredibly active and, in the age of no printing presses, helped to preserve many works now considered Japanese classics. Ise monogatari 伊勢物語 (Tales of Ise), Ki no Tsurayuki’s 紀貫之 (872–945; Hyakunin isshu 35) Tosa Nikki 土佐日記 (Tosa diary; see excerpts), Murasaki Shikibu's 紫式部 (about 973–about 1014; Hyakunin isshu 57) Genji monogatari 源氏物語 (The Tale of Genji; see excerpts), and Sei Shōnagon's 清少納言 (b. 965? - ?; Hyakunin isshu 62) Makura no sōshi 枕草子 (The Pillow Book) are just some of the works Teika had helped to preserve. And when it came to tales, he is thought to have written a few himself, of which a tale called Matsura no miya monogatari 松浦宮物語 (Tale of Matsura), likely written in his youth, has survived.
There were many sides to Fujiwara no Teika. Contemporary sources say he was impetuous, which did not always help his case when seeking promotions, but his poetic talents were undeniable and his poetry was splendid, which earned him fame beyond any official post. Hardly ever healthy, he was nevertheless hard-working and incredibly productive, and every one of his works, poetic or critical, deserves discussions and analysis that can last for days on end and hundreds of pages. That impressive is the legacy Teika has left.
465 of Teika’s poems are included in imperial collections starting with Senzaishū 千載集 (Colletion of a Thousand Years; 1187), compiled by his father Shunzei when Teika was in his 20s. Most of his compositions, however, were included in imperial collections after Teika’s death, when his name became inseparable from the art of waka and when his descendants were entrusted with compilation of numerous imperial collections in circumstances far different from the times of Teika, Shunzei or earlier.
500 years of waiting on the shore of Matsuho
In Teika’s time, a technique of poetic allusions called honkadori 本歌取り became widespread (largely as a result of Teika’s own efforts) and Teika’s poem also employs this technique, thus requiring a look at both the the foundation poem (本歌 honka) and the way Teika used it in his own composition.
Teika’s honka is the 935th poem from Man'yōshū 万葉集 (Collection of Ten Thousand Leaves, around 759) − a long poem or chōka 長歌 by Kasa no Kanamura笠金村 (dates unknown), which starts:
[Note that the lines in English translation do not exactly correspond to lines in Japanese.]
名寸隅の | Nakisumi no | Seen yonder |
船瀬ゆ見ゆる | funase yu miyuru | from Nakisumi harbour, |
淡路島 | Awaji shima | fisher maids |
松帆の浦に | Matsuho no ura ni | on the shore of Matsuho |
朝なぎに | asanagi ni | in Awaji island, − |
玉藻刈りつつ | tamamo karitsutsu | in the morning calm, |
夕なぎに | yūnagi ni | they gather seaweed; |
藻塩やきつつ | moshio yakitsutsu | in the evening calm, |
海をとめ | amaotome | they burn salt fires, – |
ありと聞けど | ari to kikedo | I have heard of them, |
見に行かむ | mi ni ikan | but do not know |
よしの無ければ <...> | yoshi no nakereba <...> | how to reach them... |
The honka is written from a man’s perspective but Teika composes his poem in a feminine voice, therefore creating a sort of dialogue, extended through hundreds of years; a dialogue maybe, only poetry allows for.
Honkadori technique is based on borrowing phrases from older works and Teika borrows a couple of lines from the Man’yōshū poem. Teika’s poem starts with konu hito wo / Matsuho no ura ni (on Matsuho shore, waiting for him, who will not come…). Matsuho no ura ni is the fourth line of the honka, therefore Teika borrows it, but he also twists the line and his matsu of Matsuho becomes a kakekotoba 掛詞 or a pivot word, which carries two different meanings, − firstly, to wait (待つ matsu), secondly – Matsuho 松帆, the place name.
Konu hito wo matsu 来ぬ人をまつ |
| |
Waiting for him, who will not come |
| |
| Matsuho no ura no まつほの浦の 【松帆の浦の】 | |
| On the shore of Matsuho | |
Teika’s poem continues with another line from the foundation poem, − yūnagi ni. Yūnagi 夕凪 is the evening calm, the time when in the evening wind calms down and silence sets in, so I render the line as in the evening calm.
The last two lines of Teika’s poem – yaku ya moshio no / mi mo kogaretsutsu do not borrow phrases from the foundation poem but they do borrow a lot of the vocabulary and even some grammar, especially from the foundation poem line moshio yakitsutsu ([they] burn salt fires), where we see moshio 藻塩 (literally seaweed-salt or, more clearly, salt-seaweed – the seaweed used to make salt by burning or boiling it), yaki (ren’yōkei 連用形 or continuative form of verb yaku that Teika uses in rentaikei 連体形 or attributive form, yaku) and the -tsutsu ending, which marks a repetitive or continuing action.
Teika’s fourth line yaku ya moshio no (burning like salt-seaweed) is also a jokotoba 序詞 or a prefatory statement that modifies kogare (ren’yōkei of kogaru, to burn) in the last line (mi mo kogaretsutsu), where the body (mi) also (mo) constantly burns (kogaretsutsu).
On the shore of Matsuho,
waiting for him, who will not come, –
in the evening calm,
like the salty seaweed,
my body in love, also burns.
When Teika’s poem is read with its honka, it creates an image of separated lovers – separated by space (the female speaker of Teika’s poem in on Matsuho shore, and the shore is on Awaji 淡路 island, to which the male speaker of the honka has no way to go to) and by time (the years between two poems). And yet, both time and space are traversed by poetry, when we read the poetic dialogue.
While composing his poem, Teika borrows lines and words from a poem in a poetry collection compiled roughly 500 years before him, but he twists and turns the words, to create something new despite borrowing so much from the old. To paraphrase Teika’s Kindai shūka (as translated by Brower and Miner 1967, 44), he is in diction – admiring the traditional, in treatment – attempting the new. And here he does it so well that in Kenpō 4 建保 (1216), when this poem was matched against a composition of the reigning Emperor Juntoku in Dairi hyakuban utaawase 内裏百番歌合 (Imperial Palace Poetry Contest in One Hundred Rounds), it unexpectedly won its round, despite being ensured a natural loss due to the significantly higher social standing of the opponent (Kubota 2009, 123).
Maybe because of that, or maybe for some other reason, in 1217 Teika chose this poem as one of two hundred in his Teika-kyō hyakuban jikaawase (The One Hundred Round Contest of Lord Teika’s Own Poems) and eventually, as his sole work in both Hyakunin Isshu and Hyakunin Shūka. He also anthologised the work in Shinchokusenshū, where we find the poem in the third book of love poems, with a headnote noting the poetry contest it was composed for.
Was there anyone in particular he thought of when composing the poem or was it the technical excellence that led him to consider the poem worthy of inclusion into his jikaawase and the Hyakunin Isshu and Hyakunin shūka, we do not know. But the image Teika left us is, nevertheless, beautifully sad and impactful, reminding of the timelessness of poetic art Teika was an arbiter of.
Someone, who will never come…
In Chihayafuru anime (season 1・episode 20), the poem plays a beautiful background role. There, Chihaya comes to watch Yoshino tournament and when she hears that Arata is playing, his name is shown and the konu hito wo poem is read in the background. There, Arata can be interpreted as someone, who will never come. The poem’s love background can also be implied, there but then suddenly the random reading of cards in karuta comes into play and the next card, read when Chihaya sees Arata playing, is Murasaki Shikibu’s meguriaite (poem 57) – long last we meet, - a poem signifying a meeting after a long time, but also one for a dear childhood friend. And yet again, we are left wondering…