Translator's Note

The Ogura Hyakunin Isshu is a 13th century collection of one hundred five-phrased poems known as waka. They were written primarily by Japanese aristocrats, many attached to the imperial court. Although the editor, Fujiwara no Teika (1162-1241), made this selection for himself, it has become a cornerstone of Japanese literature and culture. For centuries it was the waka primer, the collection anyone with an interest in poetry was expected to know. It has also been an inspiration to artists and the subject of constant literary and scholarly study. It entered popular culture in the 17th century when printed illustrated editions became available. It is also the basis of karuta, a traditional New Year's card game which still has devotees. 

The world which produced these poems was a small closed society, highly mannered, with an intricate code of conduct. The sexes were usually segregated, but promiscuity was common. Lovers were obliged to be circumspect and to follow clear (if unwritten) rules. Love poems sent by courier were both a seduction tool and the engine of clandestine relationships.

The Ogura Hyakunin Isshu was one of the very first Japanese books translated into English. New versions appear regularly and differ wildly from one another. The material is difficult. The poems are more archaic, ambiguous, and foreign-sounding to most modern Japanese readers than Chaucer is to today’s English speaker. The poems frequently have place names and allude to both Japanese and Chinese literature. The reader is expected to know these references and understand their significance. Even the writing system can be a source of ambiguity: Japanese is full of homonyms, and while kanji (the Chinese characters used in written Japanese) distinguishes between them, kana (the syllabary) doesn’t. This can lead to confusion, but it is also a source of richness. 

As a result, many translators provide extensive explanatory notes about the poems and their authors. I had hoped to create versions emotionally interesting enough that such apparatus wouldn’t be necessary, and my early drafts contained no notes, only the poets’ names and dates. My readers rebelled. They almost unanimously wanted something more, if only brief biographical sketches. They were right. Some of the poets were prominent historical figures. A few of the poems have references which really did need clarification. And some of the texts have interesting stories behind them. So I complied; my notes contextualizing each poem can be found below the translated text.

In translating, I have set myself two technical constraints. First, I would use the traditional waka form, using English syllable count for the Japanese on (or mora, to use the modern linguistics term). Waka, also known as tanka, with its five uneven phrases, does not lend itself to English without some practice. Most translators don’t try to retain the form, instead writing compressed free verse in five lines. But measuring in syllabics is a regular part of my own poetry practice. I’m intrigued by the possibilities which can come from blending Japanese five-seven measure with English notions of stress and rhythm.  

My second constraint concerns the order of the material within each poem. Arthur Waley, the pioneer translator of Japanese and Chinese, freely shuffles the content of the originals. He demonstrates his practice clearly in the book Japanese Poetry: The ‘Uta’. Other translators have followed his lead. But I chose to keep words, images, and ideas in their original order, unless doing so would create something really ugly. I also refrained, for the most part, from using an unusual word when a common term was perfectly serviceable.

John Gribble

In the Classroom