The Master-Singers of Japan, by Clara A. Walsh, [1914]
By Minamoto no Jun—10th Century
Out of the murky clouds the lightning's glare
Dimly reveals the brooding Autumn plain, p. 62
Shown for an instant in its 'broidery rare,
Then the dense darkness covers it again.
Such is our life, an instant in the light,
Then the Unknown, impenetrable night!
By Minamoto no Jun
Even as the beads of evening dew that lie
Upon the morning-glory through the night,
And vanish ere the fading of the flower
With the day's dawning
Such is human life!
UNKNOWN
Would that my sleeve were long and wide enough
To cover all the sky, and shelter thus
The fair Spring blossoms from the scattering wind!
The tangled crowd of blossoms in the field,
Their mingled perfumes to the morning yield.
As I pass on, where fallen petals strew
The narrow path, with aromatic dew
My sleeve is wet and faded.
The lonely wanderer with dismay
Sees the dusk fall, as he pursues
His path towards the wane of day,
And mists begin to blot the views
And hide the Adzuma highway,
Where, clear to sight, a while ago
The folk were passing to and fro!
The white cloud blown from the mountain-peak
Drifts lightly by;
Whither it goes we would vainly seek,
And know not why
The white cloud feels the breath of the wind,
A shuddering sigh:
Even thus is the life of a man
Who is born—to die!
The crying of the frogs comes hither,
Silent no longer, since they fear
To see the Yamabuki wither,
The golden blooms they hold so dear,
And now the heartless flowers
Make haste to disappear!
(From the "Manyôshiu")
It is the Dawn, and I—
I cannot sleep, nor have the long night through,
For thoughts of her I love!
The cuckoo's weary cry,
Full of sad yearning, loud and louder grew,
And still though Day draws nigh,
It maddens me with lamentations new!
The pale mauve wavelets of wistaria,
Which I had planted by my dwelling-place
That it might bring me thoughts of thee I love,
At length are blooming: pure ethereal
As their own fragrance, fugitive and rare.
By Ōtomo no Yakamochi
Why talk of jewels? Though by night
Their hearts with changeful colours shine,
Can they impart the deep delight
That lives within the golden wine
And drives away one's care?
If in this Lifetime
My heart be light and joyous,
What does it matter
Though in the next existence
I change to bird or insect?