English translation of the prose
AI-assisted English translation of the prose; quoted poems remain in Japanese. The Japanese original remains authoritative.
Originally published: 20 February 2022.
A historical report from the Japanese website. Dates and accounts of health and events reflect the source’s time. Quoted poems remain in Japanese.
Japan Romantic Poetry Forum: Winter, Kisaragi
Recorded 19 February 2022
Record and commentary: 河内裕二, Japan Romanticism Society
Around 19 February, the day of our gathering, the solar term Usui begins. It means snow turning to rain and accumulated snow and ice beginning to melt. Some days hint at spring, but many remain cold, so it still feels like winter. The gathering day was chilly too; cold rain arrived toward evening and temperatures fell. In about half a month comes Keichitsu, among the best-known solar terms. By then we may feel spring approaching.
This joint gathering of the Miura Tanka Association and Japan Romanticism Society began at 13:30 on 19 February at Miura Workers’ Civic Center. From Miura came president 三宅尚道, 加藤由良子, 嶋田弘子, 玉榮良江, and new member 羽床員子; from our Society, President Seishu Hamano, 岩間滿美子, and 河内裕二. 嘉山光枝 and 清水和子 of the Miura association and Kato’s friend 田所晴美 also sent poems.
寒風に凛と向かいて行く人に
吾も倣いて歩幅を正す 由良子
A work by 加藤由良子. Early one very cold morning, she saw an older person walking with dignity and followed the example. Based on actual experience, it suits her energetic character. Instead of simply saying “walk,” she uses expansive images such as facing the cold wind and adjusting her stride, creating a splendid sense of presence.
あと少し布団にもぐる寒い朝
時計見ながらあと少しだけ 光枝
The poet is 嘉山光枝, absent today. Surely everyone understands this feeling. President Hamano wondered whether modern airtight, insulated houses without the drafts of older homes make it less familiar than before. Everyone liked the refrain “a little longer.” I imagined the terror of falling asleep again and causing a catastrophe, and shivered.
憶（おくら）良（ら）よ遺言（いごん）よ税よとめくるめき
昔の人もかくて逝くかや 成秋
The poet is President Seishu Hamano. Yamanoue no Okura returned from a mission to Tang China after studying the latest learning, but did not prosper as an official. Though technically promotions, appointments as governor of Hoki and Chikuzen sent him to the provinces. Poems written there urgently convey unrewarded feelings. Sensing that he now feels something like Okura did, Hamano addressed his predecessor. He called it half self-mocking and humorous: truly a modern version of the “Dialogue on Poverty.”
Someone asked about reading 憶良 as Okurara, as the ruby indicates. He explained that it creates rhythm; writing 憶良等 or 憶良ら would instead mean “Okura and others” or “those like Okura.” Reading aloud makes clear how adding ra greatly improves the first two phrases’ rhythm.
厚い手で生くるを紡ぐラカンパネラ
フジコへミング御年九十 弘子
The poet is 嶋田弘子. She attended a Fuzjko Hemming concert last year and described it this way: the ninety-year-old pianist came onstage with a cane, but became another person on beginning to play. Listening while recalling the turbulent life known through television moved Shimada to tears. The thick hands playing so powerfully left a strong impression.
I read a newspaper account of a fisherman who was deeply moved on seeing Hemming play La Campanella on television. Wanting to play it himself, he began piano in his fifties. Unable to read music and without instrumental experience, he practiced this extremely difficult piece intensely for years and eventually performed before Hemming herself. There must be something special in her La Campanella that moves people’s hearts. The title means “bell” in Italian.
春立てど凍てつく風の吹きたれば
天地つつまむ夢幻の衣（きぬ）に 裕二
My own poem. Literally, since cold winds blow despite spring’s arrival, let us wrap the world in dreams and illusion. Nothing specific is stated, so readers may interpret freely. I was thinking of dark events continuing after New Year. One may equally read it as happily imagining warm spring days amid persistent cold, or imagine a fantastical world.
百々（もも）伝ふ衣笠城の井の端（はた）に
佇み向かひて父祖の聲聴く 滿美子
The poet is 岩間滿美子, reflecting on her Miura-clan ancestors. The opening 百々伝ふ comes from the death poem of Prince Otsu, who was accused of rebellion and forced to take his own life.
ももづたふ磐余の池に鳴く鴨を
今日のみ見てや雲隠りなむ 大津皇子
ももづたふ is a conventional poetic epithet for Iware. Iwama used it to express Kinugasa Castle’s long history. The castle well is called Fudo Well; tradition says Gyoki struck a rock with his staff and made water spring forth.
Against Prince Otsu’s poem of death, looking at pond ducks and thinking he will die, stands Iwama’s poem of life, looking at the castle well and resolving to live with her ancestors in mind. Both resonate in the heart.
バイク音響かせて来る新聞に
立春の朝少し風あり 尚道
A work by 三宅尚道. It is an everyday scene found anywhere, but during the pandemic everyone keenly feels the importance of ordinary things: a newspaper reliably delivered early each morning and seasons changing as usual. Motorcycle sound, newspaper ink’s smell, the temperature of a first-spring morning, and the blowing wind appeal to bodily senses. Reading stimulates those senses and makes us recognize being alive anew.
裏山の枇杷の花咲き近付きて
マスク外して香り吸い込む 良江
The poet is 玉榮良江. A nearby loquat tree flowers, and she enjoys its fragrance on walks. The Daijirin describes loquat as bearing many small white flowers at branch tips in early winter. With few flowers in winter, they would attract attention. Mokichi Saito also wrote of them.
枇杷の花冬木のなかににほへるを
この世のものと今こそは見め 茂吉
For Mokichi too, it is fragrance. Unfortunately I do not know the scent, but as loquat belongs to the rose family, it must surely be pleasant.
初めてのビデオ通話に映りたる
老婆の我にギョッと驚く 員子
A poem by 羽床員子, joining us for the first time. Having a new smartphone, she wanted to try a video call and asked her daughter to help. She was startled by her own face onscreen. “Do I always look that awful?” “Yes,” her daughter replied without a pause, she told us laughing. Everyone had experienced something similar to some extent and sympathized.
Trying something new that did not exist in the past, like video calling, makes one feel young and excited—only to be shocked by one’s own face. It sounds almost like a rakugo story. Aging is unwelcome to everyone, yet her poem makes one feel cheerful.
雪山でふざけて買ったサングラス
手術のあとの眼覆へり 和子
The poet is 清水和子, absent today. She has reportedly had cataract surgery; perhaps she is using sunglasses bought long ago, as the poem says. Brightness feels dazzling because the lens has become clear after surgery. I look forward to seeing her even more active and vigorous.
真の友どんな時にも頼もしく
アドバイスありやさしさもあり 晴美
A work by 田所晴美. It is just as she says. She must have a wonderful friend like this and have composed with that person in mind. Yet many abstract words make the overall message vague. What circumstances, what reliability, what advice, what kindness? A more concrete expression of even one would help readers imagine. Perhaps, though, that is not the point: she may be asking whether you have a true friend.
Afterward, I went with President Hamano and Iwama to the “Miura Clan” exhibition in the Kinugasa Nakadori shopping street. Panels explained the clan’s history and associated wooden statues and places. Visiting all the originals and locations would take much time. Though photographs, seeing them together was welcome, and the display was thoughtfully arranged.
We walked through the shopping street to the venue. Its full covered arcade, with a Showa-era atmosphere, made me nostalgic. Yet the small rural town on the Chita Peninsula where I grew up had no such arcade; for one this grand, we would have gone to Nagoya. It was never an everyday sight. The nostalgia therefore probably arose not from memories of an actual street but from remembering that I too lived in the Showa period when such things were built. In any case, Showa or Reiwa, an arcade proves its worth on a rainy day like this. The Heian- and Kamakura-period objects in the exhibition will certainly survive, but how much from Showa will remain?
Original wording, author credits, notes and source materials are preserved there.