“Ten Thousand Leaves”…..Happy Valentine’s Day

(The essay below is included in “Song of the Nightingale”, published by Cresatespace, Amazon.com, July, 2015)

Cover painting by Jane Kohut-Bartels, wc.

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What better ways to celebrate a holiday about love than to read love poetry?

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“Ten Thousand Leaves, Love Poems from the Man’yoshu”

–

“Thick and fast stream my thoughts of you

Like the layers

Of endlessly falling snow

Upon the cedars.

“Come to me at night, my man.”

—– from the Man’yoshu

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It was the first golden age of Japanese civilization.  In the eighth century appeared the great metropolis of Nara, (the imperial capital) its broad avenues lined with magnificent temples. Culture rushed in from Korea, China and over the Silk Road, from as far away as Persia, and even from Venice.

We think of Japan in isolation, as it was to become centuries later, but in the 7^th to the 10^th centuries (approximately) the cultural influences were vast and wide and foreign.

In the 8^th century, Japan found it’s first voice, a clear and powerful voice to become one of the most impressive, sophisticated and frank compilations of poetry the world has ever seen.  (There are other earlier and then later collections of poetry, but the Man’yoshu is considered to be the best of the poetry collections.  There are many reasons (cultural and court changes, etc) but this is a long study and can’t be done in this short presentation.

There are not 10,000 poems (leaves) but over 4,500.  Most of these are love poems, where lovers speak with disarming frankness and clarity, speak to us across 1300 years as if they were us.

Actually, the poems express a decided lack of neurosis that we have come to view sex in the last few centuries.  There is nothing of barriers when it comes to the human heart, longing, emotions and sexuality in these poems.  Many of them are openly, expressly erotic.

The authors or contributors of these poems extended from Emperors, Empresses, courtesans, samurai, priests, beggars, fishermen, peasants: a cross section of remarkable variety.  A truly democratic endeavor.  This was never again to happen in Japan, not at least to this extent.

Otomo No Yakamochi (718-785) is considered to be the main compiler of the Man’yoshu.  These poems actually span a 130 year history, from around 630 AD to 759 AD.

There are three basic divisions of the poetry in the Man’yoshu.

 

Banka: elegy on the death of an Emperor or a loved one.

Somon:  mutual exchanges of love or longing poetry.

Zoka:  Poems of Nature, hunting, etc.

This short presentation will focus only on the Somon form.

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Generally the Man’yoshu poetry is considered to be declarative rather than introspective, imagistic rather than abstract.  There is an incredible freshness to it all.

There are basically two forms of poetry in the Man’yoshu: choka (long poem, 5-7-5-7-5-7, etc. ending in 7-7) and tanka.  (5-7-5-7-7). The ‘long poem’, choka (which isn’t very long by our modern and Western standards) died out of fashion, and tanka became the predominant form of Japanese poetry for the next 1200 years.

Although one would think so, there isn’t a lot of Buddhist influence in the poems.  If any religion, there is more Shinto influence especially in the Zoka form, but even that isn’t large.  This may seem strange to us, with our notions of culture in Japan, but even centuries later, with the Priest-Poet Saigyo, there is little Buddhist thought within his poems.  Religion just doesn’t play such a dominant role in most Japanese poetry, especially at this time.

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“Going over the fields of murasaki grass

That shimmer crimson,

Going over the fields marked as imperial domain,

Will the guardian of the fields not see you

As you wave your sleeves at me?”

— Princess Nukata

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This poem is considered by many to be one of the greatest poems in the Man’yoshu.  It is presented near the beginning of the collection, giving it prominence.  The answer by her former husband (she is now married to the Emperor) Prince Oama, (his brother) is a beautiful poem in its own right.

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“If I despised you, who are as beautiful

As the murasaki grass,

Would I be longing for you like this,

Though you are another man’s wife?”

— Prince Oama

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“Do not let men find out

By smiling at me so apparently,

Like the clouds that clearly cross

Over the verdant mountains.”

— Lady Otomo Sakanoue

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There are more poems by this poet than any other woman in the Man’yoshu.  What is remarkable are the amount of women poets included in the Man’yoshu.  This is only possible because the Confucian philosophy was not prominent yet in Japan.  When it became influential, women lost much status: before they were allowed to own property, title, name, divorce, to keep custody of their children.  After, they were relegated to indoors, stripped of much power and status.

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“Whose words are these,

Spoken to the wife of another?

Whose words are these,

That bade me untie

The sash of my robe?”

— Anonymous

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Many of the poems in the Man’yoshu were folk songs, or parts of folk songs. And this repeated interest in ‘the wife of another’ was an object of male desire; the Man’yoshu is full of this theme.

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“As I turn my gaze upward

And see the crescent moon,

I am reminded Of the trailing eyebrows

Of the woman I saw but once.”

— Otomo Yakamochi

This was written by Otomo at the age of 16!

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“I have fallen into a yearning

With no requite,

For a girl who, when night comes

Sleeps pillowed in another’s arms.

— Anonymous

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“If men can touch

Even the untouchable sacred tree,

Why can I not touch you

Simply because you are another’s wife?”

— Otomo Yasumaro

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To finish with some anonymous poems:

“The flowers of the plum,

Were covered with fallen snow

Which I wrapped up

But when I tried to have you see

It was melting in my hands.”

–

“This body of mine

Has crossed the mountain barrier

And is here indeed!

But this heart of mine remains

Drawing closer to my wife.”

–

“The moon crossed the sky

And I saw him only once In its pale light

Yet, the person whom I saw

Does appear to me in dreams.”

–

“I shall not take a brush

To this hair that lies

Disheveled in the morning,

For it retains the touch

Of my dear lord’s arms that pillowed me.”

— Anonymous

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Finally , I offer a poem of my own:

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“Glimpse of a white wrist

Feel the pulse of blood beneath-

This is seduction!

But catch a wry, cunning smile

One learns all is artifice.”

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Or something a bit different.  Many of the poems were built one upon the other, answers brushed upon a fan, or something suitable, even a large leaf. In the ‘spirit’ of this method that is found in the Man’yoshu, I offer a modest poem based  on the one below from the Man’yoshu:

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Thick and fast stream my thoughts of you  like the layers

Of endlessly falling snow

Upon the cedars.

“Come to me at night, my man.”

 

Come to me

If  only in my dreams

Where my head rests upon my arm

And not yours–

Let this veiled moon

Above and these dark, brooding pines below

“Be witness to our love, my man.”

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels (aka Lady Nyo)

Copyrighted, 2011, 2016

 

 

 

“Lord Nyo’s Battle Cry”, from ‘The Nightingale’s Song’ , with poems from the Man’yoshu

Recently I started reading the long poems in “The Nightingale’s Song”, something I hope to publish in the spring of 2013. I came across this piece, unfinished and certainly in need rewriting, but I thought I would post it here, just for an airing.

I also picked up a different edition of the Manyoshu, an 8th century collection of poems, and I fell in love with this manuscript all over again. These poems, written by courtesans, aristocrats, warriors, and in the oral tradition of tradesmen and fishermen, were collected and published in Japan in this 8th century. They speak across the centuries to the sentiments of men and women all over the world. Perhaps we haven’t changed that much and suffer the same pangs of longing and love as these poets so long ago?

There are many editions of the Manyoshu to be read, but one of the best I have is “Ten Thousand Leaves: Love Poems from the Manyoshu”, translated from the Japanese by Harold Wright.

The poems from the Manyoshu are in bold type.
Lady Nyo

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LORD NYO’S BATTLE CRY I.
–

Perhaps a strong man
Should not offer love without
Having love returned
But this grieving ugly warrior
Still finds his love is growing

–
When the news of Lady Nyo
Birthing a son
Reached Lord Nyo
He was far from home
To the east
Over mountains
In dangerous, alien territory.
–
A general in the service
Of his lord
The gore of battle
This issue of ‘dying with honor’
Began at first light.
The air soon filled with sounds of battle-
Dying horses, dying men
Drawing their last gasps of life
Churned into the mud of immeasurable violence.

–
Death, not new life
Was before his eyes at dawn
And death, not life
Pillowed his head at night.

A battle rages around me,
But inside this old warrior
A battle rages inside my heart.
It is heavy with sorrow,
So tired beyond my old bones.
–

What good have we done
In watering the soil
With blood and offal
of our sons?
–

He stunk with the blood of battle
As his bow and swords cut a swath
Through men in service to another
And when the battle horns went silent
With tattered banners like defeated clouds
Hanging limp over the field
Acrid smoke stained everything
And the piteous cries of the dying
Echoed in his ears.
–

He wondered if his life would end here.
But the gods he didn’t believe in
Were merciful
And his thoughts turned from fierce, ugly warriors
Towards home and a baby.
–

Still, he could not leave.
He was caught by status-
The prestige of his clan.
He could not desert the
Fate set by birth.

–
Ah! This was fate of a man in servitude
To his Lord Daimyo.
This was the fate
Of a man chained to Honor.
–

Still, in the darkest hours of night
The soft and perfumed shape of his wife
Floated down from the fleeting clouds
that covered the eye of the virgin moon
Came to him through the smoke of battlefield fires
And he turned on his pallet
To embrace this haunting comfort.
–

Off in the distance
There I see my loved one’s home
On the horizon.
How I long to be there soon
Get along black steed of mine!

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2012, 2013

“Lord Nyo’s Battle Cry”, from “The Nightingale’s Song”

A Hearty HELLO!!! to the readers in Hungary!!~ “Köszönöm!

Recently I started reading the long poems in “The Nightingale’s Song”, something I hope to publish in the spring of 2013. I came across this piece, unfinished
and certainly in need rewriting, but I thought I would post it here, just for an airing. I also picked up one of my different editions of the Manyoshu, a 8th century collection of poems, and I fell in love with this manuscript all over again. These poems, written by courtesans, aristocrats, warriors, and in the oral tradition of tradesmen and fishermen, were collected and published in Japan in this 8th century. They speak across the centuries to the sentiments of men and women all over the world. Perhaps we haven’t changed that much and suffer the same pangs of longing and love as these poets so long ago.

There are many editions of the Manyoshu to be read, but one of the best I have is “Ten Thousand Leaves: Love Poems from the Manyoshu”, translated from the Japanese by Harold Wright.

The poems from the Manyoshu are in quotations….trying to get them in order has proved impossible this morning.
Lady Nyo

“Perhaps a strong man
Should not offer love without
Having love returned
But this grieving ugly warrior
Still finds his love is growing”

When the news of Lady Nyo
Birthing a son
Reached Lord Nyo
He was far from home,
To the east,
Over mountains
In dangerous, alien territory.

A general in the service
Of his lord,
The gore of battle,
This issue of ‘dying with honor’
Began at first light,
The air soon filled with sounds of battle-
Dying horses, dying men
Drawing their last gasps of life,
Churned into the mud of immeasurable violence.

Death, not new life
Was before his eyes at dawn,
And death, not life
Pillowed his head at night.

“A battle rages around me,
But inside this old warrior
A battle rages inside my heart.
It is heavy with sorrow,
So tired beyond my old bones.”

“What good have we done
In watering the soil
With blood and offal
of our sons?”

He stunk with the blood of battle
As his bow and swords cut a swath
Through men in service to another
And when the battle horns went silent,
With tattered banners like defeated clouds
Hanging limp over the field,
Acrid smoke stained everything
And the piteous cries of the dying
Echoed in his ears.
He wondered if his life would end here.

But the gods he didn’t believe in
Were merciful
And his thoughts turned from fierce, ugly warriors
Towards home and a baby.

Still, he could not leave.
He was caught by status
The prestige of his clan
And could not desert the
Fate set out for him by birth.

Ah! This was fate of a man in servitude
To his Lord Daimyo.
This was the fate
Of a man chained to Honor.

Still, in the darkest hours of the night
The soft and perfumed shape of his wife
Floated down from the fleeting clouds
that covered the eye of the virgin moon,
Came to him through the smoke of battlefield fires,
And he turned on his pallet
To embrace this haunting comfort.

“Off in the distance
There I see my loved one’s home
On the horizon.
How I long to be there soon
Get along black steed of mine!”

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2012