Tuesday, February 12, 2013

和泉式部 (Izumi Shikibu)

   
あらざらむ
このよのほかの
おもひでに
いまひとたびの
あふこともがな
at this last moment
of my life
ardently what I wish
is to see you
to see you once more
よのなかに
こひといふいろは
なけれども
ふかくみにしむ
ものにぞありける
in this world
love has no color
yet how deeply
my body
is stained by yours

4 comments:

  1. at this last moment …

    Translated by Peter McMillan

    in this world …

    Translated byJane Hirshfield

    ReplyDelete
  2. Izumi Shikibu

    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Izumi_Shikibu

    和泉式部

    http://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/和泉式部

    ReplyDelete
  3. 私の和泉式部

    http://www2u.biglobe.ne.jp/~eiko/izumi/index.htm

    黒髪のみだれもしらずうちふせばまづかきやりし人ぞこひしき

    君恋ふる心はちぢにくだくれどひとつも失せぬ物にぞありける

    なみだがはおなじ身よりはながるれどこひをば消たぬものにぞありける

    世の中に恋といふ色はなけれども深く身にしむ物にぞありける

    あらざらんこの世のほかのおもひいでにいまひとたびの逢ふこともがな

    もの思へば沢のほたるもわが身よりあくがれ出づるたまかとぞ見る

    ReplyDelete
  4. tumblr.

    http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/izumi%20shikibu?before=48

    http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/izumi%20shikibu

    In this world love has no color yet how deeply my body is stained by yours.

    This pine tree by the rock must have its memories too: after a thousand years, see how its branches lean towards the ground

    Even if I now saw you
    Only once,
    I would long for you
    Through worlds,
    Worlds.

    Which shouldn’t exist in this world, the one who forgets or the one who is forgotten? Which is better, to love one who has died or not to see each other when you are alive? Which is better, the distant lover you long for or the one you see daily without desire? Which is the least unreliable among fickle things— the swift rapids, a flowing river, or this human world?

    Out of darkness, yet shall I follow a path of greater darkness. From the mountain crest, far-off moon, give me light.

    It is the time of rain and snow.
    I spend sleepless nights
    And watch the frost
    Frail as your love
    Gather in the dawn.

    There is not even a moment of calmness. In the heart that loves the blossoms, the wind is already blowing.

    Should I leave this burning house of ceaseless thought and taste the pure rain’s single truth falling upon my skin?

    As I dig for wild orchids
    in the autumn fields,
    it is the deeply-bedded toot
    that i desire,
    not the flower.

    I lie with my hair disheveled But I do not even notice As I long for the man who caressed it

    Although the wind
    blows terribly here,
    the moonlight also leaks
    between the roof planks
    of this ruined house.

    ReplyDelete