Classic Poem

On the Asuka River, where the birds fly,
in the upper shoals there is a bridge of stone,
and in the lower shoals a bridge of wood.
The gem weed that grows on the bridge of stone,
though it may wither, will grow back again.
The stream weed that grows on the bridge of wood,
though it may dry, will spring forth again.
So for what reason then, has my great lady,
who was like gem weed when she stood,
and like stream weed when she lay down
by the side of her magnificent lord,
why has she forgotten his morning palace?
and why does she forsake his evening palace?
When we thought she was of this world
her lord would bring her flowers in spring
and yellow leaves when autumn came,
and holding her hand beneath quilted sleeves
he never tired to see her, radiant like a mirror,
and sometimes with her lord, who thought
she was fairer than the full moon,
she would go out on pleasure visits
to Kinoe palace, where feasts were held,
but now she makes that her eternal palace
and her words and eyes are no more.
And that is why, in his terrible sadness,
like the tiger thrush longing for its mate,
her lord goes to visit her with the morning birds,
wilting in sorrow like the summer grass,
going back and forth like the evening star,
and as we see him reel like a great ship,
we have no way to give him solace
and do not know what we can do
but let the sound of her name extend
as far and as long as heaven and earth
and let us mourn by that which shares her name,
the Asuka River, and for a myriad ages
may we remember our great and beloved lady
here by her memento.

Two Short Poems

If we had placed branches to stop its flow,
across the Asuka River,
the running waters would have become still.

River of Tomorrow, and though tomorrow
we will not see her
we will not forget our great lady's name.