The Hundred Poets, Part IV

 

 

Number: 67

Poet: Lady Suô-no-naishi (周防内使)

Scene: A young nobleman peers and beckons through bamboo blinds to the seated poetess and her maid

Robinson: S19.67

 

The poem translates:

   If I lay my head

   Upon his arm in the dark

   Of a short spring night,

   This innocent dream pillow

   Will be the death of my good name.

 

 

Number: 69

Poet: The Monk Noin (Nôin-hôshi, 能因法師)

Scene: A group of travelers is caught in a downpour

Robinson: S19.69

 

The poem translates:

   By the wind storm’s blast

   From Mimuro’s mountain slopes

   Maples leaves are torn,

   Which turn Tatsuta River

   Into a rich brocade.    

 

 

A careful inspection of the grass or script on this print will demonstrate that it is identical to the above print.  This proves that that they were printed from the same woodblocks.  However, this print lacks the delicately shaded transition (bokashi) between the upper and middle thirds seen on the above print.  Bokashi was achieved by hand-applying a gradation of ink to the wooden printing block rather than inking the block uniformly.  Since this hand-application had to be repeated for each sheet of paper that was printed, this state is a less labor-intensive printing, which almost invariably means a later edition.

 

This represents yet another state of the same print.  It not only lacks the delicately shaded transition (bokashi) between the upper and middle thirds, but also was printed without the use of green ink.  It has two different shades of blue, which could represent either two different blue inks, or a double application of the same ink to those areas that were green in the above prints.  This print also shows evidence of wear or chips in the wooden block that was used to print the black lines (key block).  This is best seen in the left lower corner where the black line surrounding the entire image shows wear not present in the above two prints. 

 

Number: 70

Poet: Ryôzen-hôshi (The Monk Ryosen, 良選法師)

Scene: A fellow traveler on the shore of a lake pointing out features of the landscape to Ryôzen-hôshi

Robinson: S19.70

 

The poem translates:

   In my loneliness

   I leave my little hut.

   When I look around,

   Everywhere it is the same:

   One lone, darkening autumn eve. 

 

Another state of the above design

 

Number: 71

Poet: Dainagon Tsunenobu (大納言経信) also known as Minamoto no Tsunenobu)

Scene: Dainagon Tsunenobu at the window of his study sees an apparition howling out a poem

Robinson: S19.71

 

NOTE: This print is incorrectly numbered 72 in the left lower margin.

 

The poem translates:

   When the evening comes,

   From the rice leaves at my gate,

   Gentle knocks are heard,

   And, into my round rush-hut,

   Enters autumn’s roaming breeze. 

 

This is another state of the above print.  It is a less labor-intensive printing than the above, which almost invariably means a later edition.  The shading (bokashi) in the apparition’s body is minimal, and the woodblock used to print the poem spewing out of the apparition’s mouth was omitted.  Bokashi was achieved by hand-applying a gradation of ink to the wooden printing block rather than inking the block uniformly.  This hand-application had to be repeated for each sheet of paper that was printed.  However, a careful comparison of some fine detail demonstrates that they are identical, proving that both prints were printed from the same woodblocks.

 

Yet another state of the above design

 

Number: 72

Poet: Lady Yûshi-naishinnôke Kii (裕子内親王家紀伊)

Scene: The poetess is standing on a rocky cliff overlooking the sea

Robinson: S19.72

 

NOTE: This print is incorrectly numbered 70 in the left lower margin.

 

The poem translates:

   Famous are the waves

   That break on Takashi beach

   In noisy arrogance.

   If I should go near that shore.

   I would only wet my sleeves.

 

Number: 74

Poet: Minamoto no Toshiyori Ason (源俊頼朝臣)

Scene: A young woman is standing with a baby on her back and a girl with an umbrella by her side.  Cherry blossoms are seen on a mountain beyond the mist.

Robinson: S19.74

 

NOTE: Although the margin has been cut off this impression, the print is incorrectly numbered 72.

 

The poem translates:

   It was not for this

   I prayed at the holy shrine:

   That she would become

   As pitiless and as cold

   As the storms on Hase’s hills.

 

Number: 77

Poet: Emperor Sutoku-in (崇徳院)

Scene: The ghost of Emperor Sutoku-in invoking a thunder storm

Robinson: S19.77

 

The poem translates:

   Though a swift stream is

   Divided by a boulder

   In its headlong flow,

   Though divided, on it rushes,

   And at last unites again.

 

Another state of the above design

 

Number: 78

Poet: Minamoto no Kanemasa (源兼昌)

Scene: Minamoto no Kanemasa with a page at a palace window overlooking the sea

Robinson: S19.78

 

The poem translates:

   Guard of Suma Gate,

   From your sleep, how many nights

   Have you awakened

   At the cries of sanderlings,

   Flying from Awaji Island?  

 

Another state of the above design

 

Number: 79

Poet: Sakyô-no-dayû Akisuke (左京太夫顕輔)

Scene: Sakyô-no-dayû Akisuke standing on a palace veranda on a windy moonlit night

Robinson: S19.79

 

The poem translates:

   See how clear and bright

   Is the moonlight finding ways

   Through the riven clouds

   That, with drifting autumn wind,

   Gracefully float in the sky.

 

Number: 81

Poet: Go-tokudaiji Sadaijin (後徳大寺左大臣) also known as Fujiwara no Sanesada

Scene: Go-tokudaiji Sadaijin on a palace veranda looking out over a rocky bay with the moon, a flying cuckoo and bands of mist

Robinson: S19.81

 

The poem translates:

   When I turned my look

   Toward the place where I had heard

   The cuckoo’s call,

   The only thing I found

   Was the moon of early dawn. 

 

Number: 82

Poet: Dôin-hôshi (道因法師, The Monk Doin)

Scene: Dôin-hôshi and a young acolyte with a scroll seated by a screen painted with a deer under a pine tree

Robinson: S19.82

 

The poem translates:

   Though in deep distress

   Through your cruel blow, my life

   Still is left to me.

   But I cannot keep my tears;

   They break forth from my grief.  

 

Number: 83

Poet: Kôtaikôgû-no-tayû Shunzei (皇太后宮大夫俊成) also known as Fujiwara no Toshinari

Scene: Kôtaikôgû-no-tayû Shunzei with a page and two armed attendants, one holding a torch, near a palace

Robinson: S19.83

 

The poem translates:

   From this world I think

   That there is nowhere to escape.

   I wanted to hide

   In the mountains’ farthest depths;

   But there I hear the stag’s cry.  

 

Number: 86

Poet: Priest Saigyô (Saigyô-hôshi, 西行法師)

Scene: Saigyô-hôshi under a willow tree on a river bank showing a group of children the golden cat given to him by the emperor

Robinson: S19.86

 

The poem translates:

   Should I blame the moon

   For bringing forth this sadness,

   As if it pictured grief?

   Lifting up my troubled face,

   I regard it through my tears.

 

Number: 87

Poet: Jakuren-hôshi (The Monk Jakuren, 寂蓮法師)

Scene: Jakuren-hôshi and a page, both with open umbrellas, taking a stroll in an evening shower

Robinson: S19.87

 

The poem translates:

   An autumn eve:

   See the valley mists arise

   Among the fir leaves

   That still hold the dripping wet

   Of the chill day’s sudden showers.

 

Image courtesy of Richard Illing

 

Another state of the above design

 

Number: 90

Poet: Impu-monin-no-ôsuke (殷富門院大輔, attendant to Empress Inpu)

Scene: Two girls carrying pails of saltwater along the seashore with Mt. Fuji in the distance

Robinson: S19.90

 

The poem translates:

   Let me show him these!

   Even the fishermen’s sleeves

   On Ojima’s shores,

   Though wet through and wet again,

   Do not so change their colors.

 

Number: 97

Poet: Gonchûnagon Sadaie (権中納言定家), who is also known as Fujiwara no Sadaie and as Fujiwara no Teika)

Scene: Gonchûnagon Sada-ie hugging his pet cat while a page prepares its food and a standing lady watches

Robinson: S19.97

 

The poem translates:

   Like the salt sea-weed,

   Burning in the evening calm.

   On Matsuo’s shore,

   All my being is aflame,

   Awaiting her who does not come. 

 

Number: 99

Poet: Go-Toba no in (Emperor Gotoba. 後鳥羽院)

Scene: The emperor and an assistant forging a sword blade with a page and an attendant seated behind 

Robinson: S19.99

 

The poem translates:

   For some men I grieve;

   Some men are hateful to me;

   And this wretched world

   To me, with all my sadness,

   Is a place of misery.

 

A variant of the above design

 

“Robinson” refers to listing in Kuniyoshi: The Warrior-Prints by Basil William Robinson (Cornell University Press, Ithaca, NY, 1982) and its privately published supplement.

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