「賢木(Ｔhe Sacred Tree)」の和歌
|You err with your sacred tree and sacred gate.
No beckoning cedars stand before my house.
|Thinking to find you here with the holy maidens,
I followed the scent of the leaf of the sacred tree.
|A dawn farewell is always drenched in dew,
But sad is the autumn sky as never before.
|An autumn farewell needs nothing to make it sadder.
Enough of your songs, O crickets on the moors!
|If my lady the priestess, surveying her manifold realms.
Has feelings for those below, let her feel for me.
|If a lord of the land is watching from above.
This pretense of sorrow will not have escaped his notice.
|Tue things of the past are always of the past.
I would not think of them. Yet sad is my heart.
|You throw me off; but will they not wet your sleeves,
The eighty waves of the river Suzuka?
|And who will watch us all the way to Ise,
To see if those eighty waves have done their work?
|I see her on her way. Do not, O mists,
This autumn close off the Gate of the Hill of Meeting.
|Withered the pine whose branches gave us shelter?
Now at the end of the year its needles fall.
|Clear as a mirror these frozen winter waters.
The figure they once reflected is no more.
|At the end of the year the springs are silenced by ice.
And gone are they whom we saw among the rocks.
|They say that it is dawn, that you grow weary.
I weep, my sorrows wrought by myself alone.
|You tell me that these sorrows must not cease?
My sorrows, my love will neither have an ending.
|If other days must be as this has been,
I still shall be weeping two and three lives hence.
|Remember that the cause is in yourself
Of a sin which you say I must bear through lives to come.
|In lodgings frail as the dew upon the reeds
I left you, and the four winds tear at me.
|Weak as the spider's thread upon the reeds,
The dew-drenched reeds of autumn, I blow with the winds.
|The gods will not wish me to speak of them, perhaps,
But I think of sacred cords of another autumn.
|Another autumn―what can this refer to?
A secret hoard of thoughts of sacred cords?
|Ninefold mists have risen and come between us.
I am left to imagine the moon beyond the clouds.
|The autumn moon is the autumn moon of old.
How cruel the mists that will not let me see it.
|Anxious, restless days. A gust of wind,
And yet another, bringing no word from you.
|Deceive yourself not into thinking them autumn showers,
The tears I weep in hopeless longing to see you.
|We greet once more the day of the last farewell,
And when, in what snows, may we hope for a day of meeting?
|To live these months without him has been sorrow.
But today seems to bring a return of the days of old.
|My heart is with her in the moonlight above the clouds,
And yet it stays with you in this darker world.
|Though I leave behind a world I cannot endure,
My heart remains with him, till of that world.
|Briny my sleeves at the pines of Urashima
As those of the fisherfolk who take the sea grass.
|How strange that waves yet come to Urashima,
When all the things of old have gone their way.
|I might have met the first lily of spring,he says.
I look upon a flower no less pleasing.
|The plant of which you speak bloomed very briefly.
It opened at dawn to wilt in the summer rains,