160 A poem from Genji monogatari (The Tale of Genji), chapter 28 “Nowaki" (The Typhoon); opening verse, Ōkata ni (大かたに)

Item

Title

160 A poem from Genji monogatari (The Tale of Genji), chapter 28 “Nowaki" (The Typhoon); opening verse, Ōkata ni (大かたに)

Calligrapher

Attributed to Prince Ryōjun (1603-1669)

Style/period

Edo (1615–1868)

Date

Early Edo

Material

Ink on fan-shaped paper

Measurements

8.3 (measured at the center of the paper) x 22.0 (maximum) cm

Identifier

Z42_4j3_072b_160

Item Locator

Z42.4 J3

Transcription

野分/大/かた/に/萩/の/はすく/る/風の/ねに/うき/身/ひとつ/に/しむ心ち/し/て

Transliteration

Genji Monogatari XXVIII
ōkata ni / ogi no ha suguru / kaze no oto / no ne mo uki mi hitotsu / ni shimu kokochi shite

Translation

Genji Monogatari XXVIII Nowaki
Restless, you hurry off, more a passing breeze / That rustles these reeds than an autumn / tempest… / Left alone, I feel a chil, piercing sorrow. (Washburn 2011, pp. 548-549)

Genji, chapter 28 “Nowaki: The Typhoon”
“The sound of the wind passing as the wind will do, rustling the reeds, seems, unhappy as I am, to bring a new touch of chill,” she murmured to herself. (Tyler 2001, p. 491)

Description

Information on kiwame fuda (Identification/Authentication slip): 八宮良純親王 大かたに
(極印)琴山
(筆跡)古筆了音(六代)か?
Attributed to Hachi no Miya Ryōjun-shinnō; Authentication Seal: Kinzan; Authenticator: Kohitsu Ryōon (Sixth generation head of the Kohitsu main lineage) (?)

Source

源氏物語(3)「野分」p.277おほかたに荻の葉すぐる風の音もうき身ひとつにしむ心ちして
Genji, chapter 28 “Nowaki: The Typhoon” Genji went straight north from there to the lady from Akashi's, where instead of proper household staff he saw only experienced servant women moving about in the garden. The low fences entwined with her specially planted bluebells and gentians were scattered far and wide, and the simply dressed page girls in their pretty gowns seemed to be looking for them and putting them back up as well as they could. She was sitting near the veranda, sadly toying with her sō no koto, when she heard the warning cries from his escort, and the way she then dropped a dress gown over her soft, casual attire to mark the deference she owed him was deeply impressive. To her disappointment he abruptly left again after sitting with her a moment to ask how she had got on during the storm. “The sound of the wind passing as the wind will do, rustling the reeds, seems, unhappy as I am, to bring a new touch of chill,” she murmured to herself. (Tyler 2001, p. 491)
Gertrude Bass Warner Memorial Library

Repository

University of Oregon. Libraries. Special Collections & University Archives

Institution

University of Oregon

Type

Image

Format

image/jpeg

Rights

No Copyright - United States

Rights Holder

University of Oregon. Libraries. Special Collections & University Archives

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