「手習（At Writing Practice）」の和歌
|Into a torrent of tears I flung myself,
And who put up the sluice that held me back?
|Who in the city, now bathed in the light of the
Will know that I yet drift on through the gloomy world?
|O maiden flower, bend not to Adashino's gales.
I came the long road to make for you a windbreak.
|We have brought the maiden flower to a hut of
Away from the world, and yet the world torments it.
|'I wait,' said the voice from the pines; and I
And find myself wandering lost through dew-drenched reeds.
|Though the dew on the autumn moors may have wet
You do wrong, O hunter to blame our weed-grown lodgings.
|A stranger to the late-night moon in its glory
That he now disdains our house at the mountain ridge?
|I shall watch till the moon goes behind the
To see how it slips through the boards that roof your chamber.
|Ancient things came back, I wept aloud
At koto and flute and a lady's haughty ways.
|With the voice of your flute came thoughts of long
And tears wet my sleeve, and sped you on your way.
|On shoals unsought, I ask no further view
Of cedars twain beside that ancient river.
|I know not the roots of the tree by the ancient
But it takes the place, for me. of one now gone.
|In a mountain village, deep in the autumn night,
A lady who understands should understand.
|The gloom of the world has been no part of my
And how shall you call me one who understands?
|A world I once renounced, for they and I
Had come to nothing, I now renounce again,
|I thought that I should see the world no more,
And now, once more, 'no more' is my resolve.
|Make haste, make haste, lest I be left behind.
The fisher boat even now rows far from the shore.
|My soul may have left the shores of this gloomy
But on driftwood it floats, who knows to what far shore?
|Harsh the winds that come down these mountain
Our trees are bare. They give not shade or shelter.
|Mountain trees, I know, where none awaits me;
And yet I cannot easily pass them by.
|You have chosen to turn your back upon the world.
It pains me to think that I have been the occasion.
|I gaze at snow that swirls over mountain and moor,
And things long gone have still the power to sadden.
|Their prize these shoots that break through the
My joy the abundant years you have before you.
|On drifted moors I shall gather early shoots.
May years of your life add to years, as snow upon snow.
|He whose sleeve brushed mine is here no more,
And yet is here in the scent of the dawning of spring.
|I cannot halt the tears that join the flow
Of waters that gave her image, and do so no more.
|Shall I, having taken the habit of the nun,
Now change to robes of remembrance, think of the past?