 |
| Sōgi and Friends |
For this post, I have translated the first twelve poems from the renga sequence, “Three Poets at Minase”
or Minase sangin hyakuin. The three
poets are Monk Sōgi
and two of his disciples, Shōhaku (1443-1527) and Sōchō (1448-1532). The
sequence contains one hundred poems, and it is one of the most famous. These
kinds of renga compositions were
usually composed at one gathering, and the poets had to create poems under
strict thematic rules. They could not compose a poem that was too similar to
the one before nor include allusive language and figurative expressions that were
already used. There also had to be a link connecting the poem to the one
preceding it.
It
was within these guidelines that renga poets
had to work. As you read through these poems, keep in mind that each poem was
written to stand alone, as well as be read as a contiguous collection. This
double nature of renga compositions
is what makes them so paradoxical. Are renga
compositions greater than the sum of its parts? I would argue they aren't,
because from my understanding, renga compositions
are not used to create narratives or poetic/philosophical discussions. Instead,
I believe that renga sequences are
chiefly an act of poetic prowess by the group and the individual. That being said, there is clear progression in the collection, and you could perhaps argue that there are some elements of a narrative present. I think that as you read renga sequences you should enjoy the
aesthetic language, appreciate the subtle linkages, and give credit to the
coordination of the group.
Renga poets have to walk the line of being
spontaneously creative, while also being able to create meaningful allusions to
the long Japanese poetic tradition. Perhaps, this could be considered an
exercise influenced by Japanese Buddhist philosophy in the sense that renga conveys to the idea that
everything is connected, and although these connections are meaningful, they
are also arbitrary at some level. We can also judge renga sequences as an essentially ephemeral act of artistic composition
similar to Tibetan mandalas.
雪ながら山もとかすむ夕かな
宗祇
As the snow abides,
Haze rests at the mountain,
Here in evening-tide.
Sōgi
 |
| Plum Blossoms |
行く水とほく梅にほふ里
肖柏
Far away, water flows down,
From that plum-scented town.
Shōhaku
川風にひとむら柳春みえて
宗長
A breeze from the stream
A copse of willows,
And I see Spring’s gleam.
Sōchō
舟さすおとはしるき明がた
宗祇
Boatmen are punting away,
We hear them, on this new day.
Sōgi
 |
| Japanese Painting |
月は猶霧わたる夜にのこるらん
肖柏
Still, the moon’s roaming,
Passing through the misty night,
The darkness combing.
Shōhaku
霜おく野はら秋はくれけり
宗長
So soon... a frost-coated field,
Fading, autumn will soon yield.
Sōchō
鳴く蟲の心ともなく草枯れて
宗祇
Bugs cry like zithers
Without a care in the world,
As the grass withers...
Sōgi
 |
| Japanese Garden |
垣根をとえばあらわなる道
肖柏
If, at the fence, you stop by
You’ll see the path is clear ‘n
dry.
Shōhaku
山深き里や嵐に送るらん
宗長
Lost deep in the hills,
Perhaps the hamlet suffers
From storms, windy chills.
Sōchō
なれぬ住いぞ寂しさもうき
宗祇
For those who’re not used to life,
Loneliness cuts like a knife.
Sōgi
今さらに一人ある身を思うなよ
肖柏
At this late hour,
You mustn’t dwell on being alone,
On thoughts so sour.
Shōhaku
移ろわんとは予て知らずや
宗長
You don’t know this already?
Everything changes, nothing’s
steady.
Sōchō
