Poems on Parting from His Wife in Iwami
In the sea of Iwami is Tsuno Bay
which people may see as having no coves
and people may see as having no inlets,
but yet, all the same, though it has no coves,
and yet, all the same, though it has no inlets,
toward the shore of that whale-hunting sea,
and onto the barren beach of Watazu,
may the green gem weed and the open seaweed
be drawn by the morning wings of the wind,
be drawn by the evening wings of the waves:
and so by the waves drawn back and drawn forth,
like gem weed, my girl drew to me in sleep,
and since I left her, like the dew and the frost,
though a myriad times I turn to look back
on each of the eighty bends of this road,
farther and farther I've come from her village,
and higher and higher I've crossed the hills.
As I think of my girl, wilting with sorrow
like the summer grass, I wish I could see her gate:
Let these hills move aside!
Two Envoys
In Iwami,
through the trees on the hill
of Takatsuno,
can my girl see me as I wave my sleeves?
Though the sasa leaves
may rustle and scatter on the hills,
I think of my girl from whom I
have parted.
In Tsuno Bay in the sea of Iwami,
on Kara Cape of the chattering voices,
on the seabed the deep seaweed grows,
and on the barren beach the gem weed grows,
and the girl who like gem weed slept beside me,
like the deep seaweed was deep in my thoughts,
yet few were the nights that we slept together
before I left her like a parting vine,
with a heavy heart, my courage failing,
and as I yearn now, turning to look back
from Mount Watari, as if from a great ship,
through the yellow leaves as they scatter
I cannot see my girl waving her sleeves,
and over the wife-hiding Mount Yakami,
the moon now crosses through the clouds,
and as it passes, regrettably, out of sight
the heaven-sent sun has already set,
and though I had thought I was a brave man,
the sleeves of my robe of fine quilted cloth
are drenched with tears.
Two Envoys
So fast is the gallop of my gray horse
that I have left behind
the village of my girl beyond the clouds.
Yellow leaves, falling on the autumn hill,
stop scattering for just a while
so I may see the village of my girl.
which people may see as having no coves
and people may see as having no inlets,
but yet, all the same, though it has no coves,
and yet, all the same, though it has no inlets,
toward the shore of that whale-hunting sea,
and onto the barren beach of Watazu,
may the green gem weed and the open seaweed
be drawn by the morning wings of the wind,
be drawn by the evening wings of the waves:
and so by the waves drawn back and drawn forth,
like gem weed, my girl drew to me in sleep,
and since I left her, like the dew and the frost,
though a myriad times I turn to look back
on each of the eighty bends of this road,
farther and farther I've come from her village,
and higher and higher I've crossed the hills.
As I think of my girl, wilting with sorrow
like the summer grass, I wish I could see her gate:
Let these hills move aside!
Two Envoys
In Iwami,
through the trees on the hill
of Takatsuno,
can my girl see me as I wave my sleeves?
Though the sasa leaves
may rustle and scatter on the hills,
I think of my girl from whom I
have parted.
In Tsuno Bay in the sea of Iwami,
on Kara Cape of the chattering voices,
on the seabed the deep seaweed grows,
and on the barren beach the gem weed grows,
and the girl who like gem weed slept beside me,
like the deep seaweed was deep in my thoughts,
yet few were the nights that we slept together
before I left her like a parting vine,
with a heavy heart, my courage failing,
and as I yearn now, turning to look back
from Mount Watari, as if from a great ship,
through the yellow leaves as they scatter
I cannot see my girl waving her sleeves,
and over the wife-hiding Mount Yakami,
the moon now crosses through the clouds,
and as it passes, regrettably, out of sight
the heaven-sent sun has already set,
and though I had thought I was a brave man,
the sleeves of my robe of fine quilted cloth
are drenched with tears.
Two Envoys
So fast is the gallop of my gray horse
that I have left behind
the village of my girl beyond the clouds.
Yellow leaves, falling on the autumn hill,
stop scattering for just a while
so I may see the village of my girl.
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