KKS 16
Text
題しらず
Topic unknown
よみ人しらず
Poet unknown
野辺近く家居しせれば鶯の鳴くなる声はあさなあさな聞く
|
nobe chikaku |
Near the fields |
Notes
Analysis
Fujiwara no Toshiyori (12th c.) gave this as an example of a poem that was good but had rough or unskilled wording. This could either be the 2nd or 5th lines (or both). The idea seems to be borrowed from older poetry, particularly these two Man'yōshū poems:
The poem received praise from Template:Denju for its older style construction. This poem seems to be in the vein of older MYS style poetry, such as MYS 10:1829:
梓弓春山近く家居らば継ぎて聞くらむ鶯の声
My house is near the summer mountains, and so I continuously hear the warbler's cry. (1829)
梅の花咲ける岡辺に家居れば乏しくもあらず鶯の声
My house is in the hills where plum blossoms bloom, and so I hear the profuse cry of warblers.(1820)
The skilled use of は in the last line is noted by several commentators. Since Template:Edo, commentators have read this as someone from the capital who is living in this rural home against his wishes. Nothing there is to his taste except for the voices of the poetically appropriate warblers, which recall his life in the capital. The use of あさなあさな at the end shows a boredom with the sound, or perhaps emphasizes that he is repeatedly reminded of the capital.
However, Template:Modern reads the poem simply as joy in hearing the warbler, without any implication that the poet does not want to be in his current circumstance. Template:Oldest also had an entirely different reading of the は; that warblers do not normally cry at dawn, but since the poet is out in the fields he can hear them even in the morning. Finally, the Template:Nativist reads the は as expressing annoyance that the warbler is the only cultured thing he can hear out there.
Template:Modern seemed to agree with Toshiyori's criticism of the wording, but he praises the deep feeling and the elegance.
Finally, Masuda notes that the use of the fields and the warblers provides a transition between the block of warbler poems and the upcoming poems dealing with picking young shoots in the field.
