English translation of the prose
AI-assisted English translation of the prose; quoted poems remain in Japanese. The Japanese original remains authoritative.
AI-assisted English translation. The Japanese original remains authoritative.
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Prose-only translation. The thirteen tanka are retained in Japanese at the user’s request.
Recommended Tanka, 1
Published 14 March 2020 (No.1926)
斎藤明道, chief priest of 三宝院 at Daigoji
Commentary by his student, Seishu Hamano
The venerable 明道 is someone I could call my teacher in life. He does not conceal his troubles or hesitate to speak of them, entrusting the poignancy of living to his poems. This can be seen in the following early poem:
悲しきは破れ障子の穴のぞくごとくいやしきわが心かも
In later years, my teacher became director of Buddhist studies at Daigoji. In that position, guiding those who came after him, he did not hesitate to place poems about his own delusions at the beginning of his collection. He would give young monks his unadorned book of poems, 『あれこれ』, saying: do not be ashamed of your doubts; I too have known such times. There is warmth in the nobility of a heart that hides nothing.
世をひがむ心かなしも花吹雪わが煩悩の塵を拂えや
How moving that my teacher should see in this way the cherry blossoms of Daigoji, famous for Hideyoshi’s last cherry-blossom viewing. Yet he confesses that he lacks the strength to live in proud solitude, and writes:
わが涙こころの砂に沁みてけりその重たさを告げる人なく
He also wrote the following; the venerable 明道, too, struggled with loneliness:
笑いえぬ時もあるなりそのままにすておいてくれ妻よ息子よ
煩悩の樹林に吠ゆる魍魎の姿は見えず生命さいなむ
父のみの父に供えし今朝の酒その霊前にのみてたのしも
Does he share a drink with his father, who has already passed away? I, his student Seishu, who speak of this, also wish to know the heart of my late father:
父君の遺せしノオト読みたしと書棚さぐれど指空しけり
Is it the same for laypeople and monks alike, that on reaching their eighties they return to childhood? My teacher fears death, and I, Seishu, too, find it hard to steady my wavering heart. First, three poems by my teacher:
月明のもと彷徨す我が影のおそろしきかな獣のごとし
わが影の黒き恐怖が死をよぶ夜月は静かに心をさしぬ
あの星の一つ一つを打ち鳴らし天空にわれ消えなんと思ふ
Next, Seishu. Even my wish that the body alone should decay seems futile:
来る生命明日にも来る筈この命希ひても子糠雨ふる
嫩葉の陽黒文字折りたる吾指に落つる病葉行く末語る
現身のわが歯朽ちをり山野辺の傾く雪棚黙々と歩く
My teacher, 斎藤明道, was a poet of the highest order and a mendicant monk in life, always looking death in the face. I, who pray that only the body should decay, also feel death’s intent, yet remain an ordinary, unenlightened man, never ceasing to mock myself. Because the venerable poet 斎藤明道 loved the human heart, he neither blamed nor belittled people for their mistakes, but willingly bestowed inexhaustible affection upon them. May I, too, be like him.
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