# Anthology of Japanese Literature/Three Poets at Minase

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​Three Poets at Minase
[Minase Sangin]
In the first moon of 1488 three of the greatest masters of linked-verse, Sōgi (1421–1502), Shōhaku (1443–1527), and Sōchō (1448–1532) met at Minase, a village between Kyoto and Osaha. As part of an observance at the shrine, which stood on the site of the Minase Palace of the Emperor Gotoba, they composed one hundred verses, of which fifty are here translated.
The art of linked-verse was an extremely demanding one. Generally three or more poets took part, composing alternate verses of 7, 5, 7 syllables and 7, 7 syllables. Many rules had to be observed exactly: for example, if spring or autumn were mentioned in one verse, the following two to four verses also had to mention it. However, it was not necessary that the actual words “spring” or “autumn” be used; many natural phenomena, such as mist, blossoms, or singing birds, stood for spring, while others, such as fog, the moon, or chirping crickets, stood for autumn.
Beyond the technical difficulties imposed by the rules of linked-verse were the major consideration of keeping the level so high that it would not run the risk of resembling a mere game, and the problem of making each “link” fit smoothly into the chain. Any three links taken from a sequence should produce two complete poems. Thus:
| Except for you Whom could I ever love, Never surfeiting? Nothing remotely suggests The charms of her appearance. | Except for you Whom could I ever love Never surfeiting? Nothing remotely suggests The charms of her appearance. |
| The charms of her appearance. Even plants and trees Share in the bitter grief of The ancient capital. | Nothing remotely suggests The charms of its appearance. Even plants and trees Share in the bitter grief of The ancient capital. |
Here we have two poems of entirely different meaning linked together: the first concerns a lover’s delight in his mistress, the second the grief of the poet over the destruction of the capital. This kind of multiple stream of consciousness is a uniquely Japanese literary development, and was fostered in part by the ambiguity of the Japanese language, which permits many varieties of word play and is extremely free in the use of pronouns.
| Text | Commentary |
| Snow yet remaining The mountain slopes are misty— An evening in spring. Sōgi | Early spring (mist). Allusion: “When I look far out, the mountain slopes are misty. Minase River—why did I think that only in autumn the nights could be lovely?” (by Emperor Gotoba). |
| Far away the water flows Past the plum-scented village. Shōhaku | Spring (plum blossoms). Description continued. Water. |
| In the river breeze The willow trees are clustered. Spring is appearing. Sōchō | Spring. Description continued, far scenery. Water. |
| The sound of a boat being poled Clear in the clear morning light. Sōgi | Water. Dawn. Near scenery. ​ |
| The moon! does it still Over fog-enshrouded fields Linger in the sky? Shōkaku | Autumn (moon). Dawn. |
| Meadows carpeted in frost— Autumn has drawn to a close. Sōchō | Autumn. |
| Heedless of the wishes Of piping insects, The grasses wither. Sōgi | Late autumn. The insects wish that the winter would not come. |
| When I visited my friend, How bare the path to his gate! Shōhaku | Late autumn. The grasses have withered, exposing the path. |
| Remote villages— Have the storms still to reach you Deep in the mountains? Sōchō | Late autumn. Villages so remote that winter has yet to reach them. |
| In unfamiliar dwellings Is loneliness and sorrow Sōgi | Emotional verse leading from loneliness of remote villages. |
| Now is not the time To be thinking of yourself As one all alone. Shōhaku | Buddhist rebuke (or consolation?) for emotion expressed. |
| Did you not know beforehand That all things must fade away? Sōchō | Impermanence. Buddhist sentiment continued. |
| The dew grieves for its Early passing and grieves for The flower that stays. Sōgi | Impermanence. The dew is shorter-lived even than the flower it clings to. Parable for man and the things of beauty in the world. Spring. ​ |
| During the misted darkness Of the last rays of the sun. Shōhaku | Spring (mist). Evening. |
| The day has ended. Joyously singing, the birds Return to their nest. Sōchō | Spring (birds). Evening. |
| I walk deep in dark mountains, Not even the sky my guide. Sōgi | Evening. Travel. |
| Although it has cleared My sleeves are soaked with showers— This traveling cloak. Shōhaku | Travel. The sleeves are wet not only with rain but with tears caused by his lonely journey. |
| The light of the moon reveals My wretched pillow of grass. Sōchō | Travel. “Pillow of grass” denotes a journey. The traveler with tear-wet sleeves is disclosed by the moon. Night. Autumn (moon). |
| Many are the vain Nights unvisited by sleep As autumn deepens. Sōgi | Night. Autumn. Love (lying awake at night). |
| In dreams I quarreled with her; A wind was stirring the reeds. Shōhaku | Night. Autumn (reeds). In his dream he quarrels with his beloved, and wakens to hear the wind. Love. |
| I looked—all were gone, The friends I loved at home, Vanished without a trace Sōchō | Dream. When he awakens (like Rip van Winkle) his friends are all dead. May also refer to women he loved. Love. Old age. ​ |
| Years of old age before me, What is there on which to lean? Sōgi | Old age—friends are gone. |
| Faded though they are, At least I still have my songs— Take pity on them! Shōhaku | The poems of an old man. |
| They too make good companions When the sky is at twilight. Sōgi | Loneliness relieved by poetry. |
| Today in clouds I crossed the peak and found The blossoms scattered. Sōchō | Spring (blossoms). What he thought were “clouds of cherry blossoms” were only clouds. Link: sky-clouds. Clouds may be companions. |
| Listen! did you hear the cries Of the wild geese of spring? Shōhaku | Spring. Link: geese flying over peak. |
| How bright the moon is Without the haze—drowsy one, Wait, just a little. Sōgi | Spring (hazy moon). Link: Geese flying under moon, familiar subject of painting. Enjoins him not to fall asleep when the moon is so lovely (not the usual hazy spring moon). |
| Lying in dew, on my way, I see an autumn daybreak. Sōchō | Autumn (moon of previous verse taken in different sense). Link: moon-daybreak. |
| Over the villages, Far off, beyond the last field, The fog is settling. Shōhaku | Autumn (fog). Description continued. ​ |
| There comes with the blowing wind The sound of cloth-beaters’ mallets. Sōgi | Autumn (cloth-beating). The sound emerges from the fog. |
| Even freezing days In the evening find me In thinnest garments. Sōchō | A lonely, poverty-stricken scene. Link: cloth-garments. |
| How forlorn a way to live— The mountains where I gather brush. Shōhaku | Poverty. A humble wood-cutter. |
| “Yet there may be hope,” I thought, but this way of life Has come to an end. Sōgi | Poverty. Despair. |
| Ah, the misery of it! Whither now shall I turn? Sōchō | Poverty. Despair. |
| Parting after bliss, Resolved to wait as long As life is left me. Shōhaku | The misery of poverty shifts to the misery of separation after making love. Love. |
| Still it lasts—what does it mean? This longing I feel for her. Sōgi | Love. Separation. |
| Except for you Whom could I ever love, Never surfeiting? Sōchō | Love. |
| Nothing remotely suggests The charms of her appearance. Shōhaku | Love. ​ |
| Even plants and trees Share in the bitter grief Of the ancient capital. Sōgi | Link: the beloved’s appearance shifts to the appearance of Kyoto before the disastrous Ōnin Rebellion which devastated the city (1467–1477). |
| The sad house where once I lived Is now but a remembrance. Sōchō | Destruction caused by the rebellion. |
| Let this keepsake Of a mother not long dead Bring consolation. Shōhaku | Death brought about by rebellion. |
| In the months and days to come I’ll see her perhaps in dreams. Sōgi | In time to come he will only be able to see his mother in dreams. |
| Sailing for China, I will take a final leave— Farewell to these shores. Sōchō | Even if he goes to China he will see her in his dreams. |
| Let us hearken to the Law We come not to this world again. Shōhaku | “These shores” interpreted as the mortal world, as opposed to the “other shores” of Paradise. The Buddhist Law. |
| Till we two could meet How frequently did love’s tears Fall and melt away. Sōgi | Meeting with Buddha in Paradise shifts to meeting a woman. Love. Autumn (tears, literally “dew”). |
| Ah, it was the autumn wind, Not she I was waiting for. Sōchō | Autumn. There is a pun imbedded meaning “weary of myself.” ​ |
| A pine-cricket All in vain is chirping now, In my weed-grown house. Shōhaku | Autumn (pine-cricket). It chirps in vain because she does not hear it. The house is deserted. |
| On the mountain I staked out Now lodges only the moon. Sōgi | Autumn (moon). Links to loneliness of preceding verse. Pun: “shines clear” for “lodges.” |
| I awake from sleep To the tolling of the bell, My dreams unfinished. Sōchō | His plans for the future are interrupted. |
| I have piled upon my brow The frosts of night after night. Shōhaku | With age his hair turns white, as he remembers as he lies awake at night. |
Translated by Donald Keene