When the wind blows across the bamboo-grass plain of Ina near Mount Arima, the leaves rustle 'soyo' — yes, that is right: how could I ever forget you?
Daini no Sanmi — Fujiwara no Kataiko (c. 999–1082) — was the daughter of Murasaki Shikibu, author of The Tale of Genji, and Fujiwara no Nobutaka. Like her mother she served Empress Shōshi, consort of Emperor Ichijō, and was courted by sons of Fujiwara no Michinaga; she later became wet-nurse to the future Emperor Go-Reizei and, after his accession, was raised to the third court rank. Her name comes from her husband Takashina no Nariakira's post as Senior Assistant Governor-General of Dazaifu. The poem is Goshūi Wakashū, Love II, 709. Its headnote says it was written in reply to a man whose visits had grown rare, who nonetheless complained that her feelings seemed uncertain. Mount Arima and the bamboo-grass field of Ina are poetic place-names in Settsu (present-day Hyōgo); the whole upper verse is a preface leading to the sound 'soyo', which puns on the rustle of the leaves and 'so yes, that's it'.
It was the man who had drifted away, and the man who cast the doubt. She neither weeps nor rages. "When the wind blows over the bamboo-grass field of Ina by Mount Arima, the leaves rustle 'soyo' — so yes, exactly: how could I forget you?" Without a single word of reproach she lets the rustling grass answer for her, and with the final rhetorical 'how could I forget' she turns the question back: which of us is really forgetting? Elegant scenery on the surface, a sharp counter underneath. The wit and pride she inherited from her mother, Murasaki Shikibu, are sealed inside thirty-one syllables.
What drew Kaoru and Kuroko to this poem was the way she answers with the sound of the grass — no grudge, no tears, just the scenery talking back. Love today has the same night: replies that come after dawn, and a midnight call saying 'you've changed' from the one who drifted first. In the lyrics she opens the window instead of answering and lets him hear the bamboo grass in the garden — 'soyo, soyo, soyo' became the hook of the chorus. She has 'a hundred grudges' but never says them, because saying them would feel like losing. Only once does the pride crack — 'what is trembling, the bamboo leaves or me?' — and then the original's rhetorical question becomes the core: 'there's no way I could forget', 'you're the one who mustn't forget'. Not crying, not angry, just a smile and 'soyo'. The pride of a woman from long ago, sung in a woman's voice today — that is what we put into this song. We set it as Japanese city-pop: light guitar cutting and a shaker for the rustling leaves, a composed female voice with a small hidden ache.
有馬山（後拾遺集/大弐三位・百人一首58番）Garu JP
返事はいつも 夜が明けてから
既読の印が 遅くなってる
「変わったね」なんて 言われても
先に遠のいたの どっちだろう
窓を開ければ 笹の葉が
風に鳴っている そよ そよ と
有馬山 猪名の笹原 風吹けば
いでそよ人を 忘れやはする
そよ そよ そよ 風の音で
答えの代わりに 聞かせてあげる
忘れるわけ ないでしょう
恨み言なら 百も持ってる
でもそれを言えば 負けな気がして
笑ってみせる 声の向こうで
笹がざわめく 山のふもと
疑うのなら 耳をすまして
風が答える そよ そよ と
有馬山 猪名の笹原 風吹けば
いでそよ人を 忘れやはする
そよ そよ そよ 揺れているのは
笹の葉なのか 私なのか
忘れるわけ ないでしょう
いにしえの人も 同じ夜に
恨みは言わず 風を返した
泣かないで 怒らないで
ただ そよ と 笑ってみせる
有馬山 猪名の笹原 風吹けば
いでそよ人を 忘れやはする
有馬山 猪名の笹原 風吹けば
いでそよ人を 忘れやはする
そよ そよ そよ 聞こえるでしょう
あなたのほうこそ 忘れないで
忘れるわけ ないでしょう
いでそよ……
そよ そよ と
Arimayama (Goshui-shu / Daini no Sanmi, Hyakunin Isshu No. 58) Garu JP
Your replies always come after dawn
Even the "read" mark comes later now
"You've changed," you say — but
Which of us drifted away first?
I open the window, and the bamboo leaves
Rustles in the wind: soyo, soyo
Mount Arima, the bamboo-grass field of Ina, when the wind blows
It rustles "soyo" — so yes, how could I ever forget you?
Soyo, soyo, soyo, with the sound of the wind
Instead of an answer, I'll let you listen
There's no way I could forget
I have a hundred grudges I could say
But saying them would feel like losing
So I laugh, and behind my voice
The bamboo grass rustles at the foot of the mountain
If you doubt me, listen closely
The wind answers: soyo, soyo
Mount Arima, the bamboo-grass field of Ina, when the wind blows
It rustles "soyo" — so yes, how could I ever forget you?
Soyo, soyo, soyo, what is trembling
The bamboo leaves, or me?
There's no way I could forget
Someone long ago, on a night like this
Said no word of blame, and answered with the wind
Don't cry, don't be angry
Just smile and say: soyo
Mount Arima, the bamboo-grass field of Ina, when the wind blows
It rustles "soyo" — so yes, how could I ever forget you?
Mount Arima, the bamboo-grass field of Ina, when the wind blows
It rustles "soyo" — so yes, how could I ever forget you?
Soyo, soyo, soyo, you can hear it, can't you?
You're the one who mustn't forget
There's no way I could forget
So yes, soyo...
Soyo, soyo