Unable to bear the loneliness, I stepped out of my hut and looked around — everywhere was wrapped in the same loneliness: the autumn dusk.
The monk Ryōzen was a priest of Mount Hiei who, in his later years, withdrew to a thatched hermitage in Ōhara, north of Kyoto. This poem is thought to have been composed there. He stepped outside his hut to escape his loneliness, only to find the same autumn dusk spreading wherever he looked—it seems to be a poem about having nowhere to run, and yet there is a strange stillness in it. The moment he realizes "it is the same everywhere," the loneliness is no longer his alone. Dusk falls equally on everyone. A masterpiece of autumn-evening poetry, anticipating the later "Three Evening Poems" (sanseki no uta).
- Ryōzen was a monk of Mount Hiei who retired to Ōhara in his later years; this poem is thought to have been composed at his hermitage there - He went out to escape his loneliness, but there was nowhere to run—yet this is not despair; there is a strange calm, an awareness of universality, in the moment of realizing "it is the same everywhere" - A representative "autumn dusk" poem, preceding the famous Three Evening Poems
Leaving a room where you'd been staring at nothing but walls, walking the evening streets with nowhere to go—this song begins from a modern loneliness. The glow of a convenience store, the crowd in front of the station, people passing each other while hiding inside their earphones. Everyone alone, all tinted by the same setting sun. The chorus is structured as a three-stage transformation of the original's "the same everywhere." First chorus: "Even if I flee this loneliness, where I'm headed is dusk too" (no escape). Second: "Even if I look for a place to hide, the dusk finds me" (the dusk becomes a gentle pursuer). And the Final—"This loneliness isn't mine alone; under the same sky, someone is there." In the Bridge we touch the hermitage at Ōhara as evening falls. The man who opened the door and stepped out, murmuring "it's the same everywhere"—we had a feeling he was smiling a little. The humor within Ryōzen's resignation, we set on sunset-colored brass.
さびしさに（後拾遺集/良暹法師・百人一首70番）Garu JP
壁ばかり見てた 部屋を出た
夕方の風が 頬にふれる
行くあてなんて ないけれど
ここにいるより ましだった
逃げるように 歩いた道の
突き当たりで 空が燃えてた
さびしさに 宿を立ち出でて
眺めても どこも同じ
秋の夕暮れが 降るだけ
この寂しさから 逃げても
行く先も 夕暮れ
コンビニの灯り 駅前の音
すれ違う人も みんな一人
イヤホンの中に 隠れて
同じ夕陽に 染まってた
誰も彼も 帰る場所へ
急ぐふりして 迷ってる
さびしさに 宿を立ち出でて
眺めれば どこも同じ
秋の夕暮れが 街を包む
隠れる場所を さがしても
夕暮れに 見つかってしまう
暮れゆく大原 草の庵を
戸を開けて 出た人がいた
「どこも同じ」と つぶやいた声は
少し 笑ってた気がする
さびしさに 宿を立ち出でて ながむれば
いづこも同じ 秋の夕暮れ
さびしさに 立ち止まる日は
見上げてみて どこも同じ
秋の夕暮れが 降っている
この寂しさは 僕だけのものじゃない
同じ空の下 誰かがいる
いづこも同じ……
秋の夕暮れ
Sabishisa ni (Goshui Wakashu / Hyakunin Isshu No.70) Garu JP
I left the room where I'd stared at walls
The evening wind brushes my cheek
Nowhere in particular to go
But better than staying there
Walking this road as if running away
At its dead end, the sky was burning
In loneliness I stepped out of my door
But everywhere I look, it's all the same
Only the autumn dusk falling down
Even if I flee this loneliness
Dusk waits wherever I go
Konbini lights, sounds of the station square
Everyone passing by is alone
Hiding inside their earphones
Dyed by the same setting sun
Everyone heading somewhere called home
Pretending to hurry, wandering lost
In loneliness I stepped out of my door
And everywhere I look, it's all the same
The autumn dusk wraps up the town
Even if I search for a place to hide
The dusk will find me anyway
In darkening Ohara, from a grass-thatched hut
Someone opened the door and stepped outside
The voice that murmured "it's the same everywhere"
I think it was smiling, just a little
In loneliness I step out of my hut and gaze around
Everywhere the same — the autumn dusk
On days when loneliness stops you still
Look up at the sky — it's all the same
The autumn dusk is falling down
This loneliness isn't mine alone
Under the same sky, someone is there
Everywhere the same...
The autumn dusk