The Poet, and Editor of the "Kokinshiu"
He was a Court noble, and of royal descent; he died in A.D. 946. His preface to the "Kokinshiu" is full of poetic thoughts and bas much beauty of style. One of its passages runs as follows: "The Poetry of Yamato has the human heart for its seed, and grows therefrom into the manifold forms of speech." For further extracts see W. G. Aston's "History of Japanese Literature."
Another work of Tsurayuki—the "Tosa Nikki"—is in the form of a diary written on his return to Kioto after completing his term of office as prefect there; it is dated the beginning of the year 935 A.D. During his stay at Tosa he lost his little daughter of nine years, and the Tanks following probably has reference to his bereavement.
By Kino Tsurayuki
Drive us toward the glistening shell-strewn sand,
I would descend from out my ship, O waves!
"Shell of forgetfulness" * clasped in my hand,
Then shall my soul obtain the peace it craves—
Forgetfulness of all the longing vain
For her whose face I may not see again!
It is the dawning of the Spring,
Yet does it seem to me
The brown leaves of the Fall
Scattered beyond recall
Float on the jewelled sea!
By Kino Tsurayuki
Unseen above me in the night,
Dark autumn night, they swiftly fly,
The wild geese on their southward flight.
While listening to their plaintive cry,
I think of old friends far away,
And muse if, as in olden days,
These birds some message might convey
From those who dwell in distant ways!
By Kino Tsurayuki
Were but the plum-flowers scentless as the snow,
That softly falls upon the budding spray,
How could we tell the pure white blooms that blow
From the cold snowflakes, all alike as they,
Starring the brown boughs’ tracery to-day?
Compiled A.D. 905-922
Shall I forget thee?
Not for that instant brief,
In which the lightning's blade
Lights up each ear of grain,
Each swaying stem and leaf,
When Autumn decks the plain
In rare brocade
In this Spring night
Of all-pervading grey,
No ray of light
Reveals the plum-tree's spray,
But viewless to the skies
Its perfumes still arise.
Even as this passing life of ours,
The cherry-blossoms fair display!
Scarce have we gazed, in fragrant showers
Of petals, from the wind-tossed spray,
The blossoms’ beauties pass away!
See the red maple-leaves that swirl
In Autumn storm-winds t brief their span,
Into the outer dark they whirl!
More fleeting still the life of man.
An ancient tomb, with withered shikimi,
Where the red dragon-flies flit to and fro!
Before I slept, I thought of thee,
Then fell asleep, and sought for thee,
And found thee:
Had I but known ’twas only seeming,
I had not waked, but lain for ever dreaming!
Seki is a fair place and a lovely,
With glorious morning sun.
There, from the holy mountains
Softly the winds blow, softly!
What of our life! ’Tis imaged by a boat:
The wide dawn sees it on the sea afloat;
Swiftly it rows away,
And on the dancing waves no trace is seen
That it has ever been!
That which we see in sleep,
Is that alone a dream?
To me the world itself
Is not what it may seem,
But just a phantasy!
57:* Wasure-gai, shell of forgetfulness—name of a Japanese shell.
