I looked toward where the cuckoo had sung, and all that remained there was the pale moon of dawn.
Fujiwara no Sanesada (1139–1191), known as the Later Tokudaiji Minister of the Left, was a court noble and poet of the very end of the Heian period. Born into the Tokudaiji house, he was a nephew of Fujiwara no Shunzei and a cousin of Fujiwara no Teika. He rose to Minister of the Left and was celebrated as one of the leading cultured men of his day, accomplished in poetry, music and dance; The Tale of the Heike shows him visiting the ruined old capital after the court moved to Fukuhara, gazing at the moon and singing. This poem is Senzai Wakashū, Summer, 161, composed on the set topic 'hearing the cuckoo at dawn'. It is a topic poem rather than a diary entry, but it captures exactly the summer refinement every noble of the age knew: staying awake before dawn to catch the single call of the hototogisu, the lesser cuckoo that announces the season.
The one call he waited up all night for finally comes. He looks toward it. But the bird is no longer there; all that remains is the thin moon still hanging in a sky that is already growing light. This is a poem about looking and finding nothing — the voice lasts an instant, the moon stays. He turned his face in expectation, and where the expectation fell through, something else he had not been waiting for quietly remained. He does not say he was disappointed, or that the moon was beautiful. 'Only... the moon remains' — he says that it was there, that alone, and stops. The silence after the sound, and the colour of a sky not yet fully light, spread out beyond the words.
What drew us most to this poem is its shape: you look where the sound came from, the thing you looked for is gone, and something else is left in its place. The voice lasts an instant; the moon stays. We set it in an early-summer dawn of today. The eastern sky begins to pale, a window opened a crack, one call far off that does not come again. You look toward it — the high branch of the garden tree. After the poem is sung, the chorus continues: the voice is nowhere now, only a thin moon is left, at the edge of a sky turning into morning, like something forgotten. In the second verse, while you wait for it to call again, the blue keeps growing and the moon grows fainter at the window's edge. The bridge asks whether it was really a bird, and answers that there is no one left to ask — only, in the sky you looked up at, there was a moon, and that is all. The lyrics never say happy or lonely; the poem managed with the single word 'only', and we kept it that size. A summer dawn written to a set topic by a nobleman eight hundred years ago, set down again at a window opened a crack.
ほととぎす（千載集/後徳大寺左大臣・百人一首81番）Garu JP
東の 空が 白みはじめて
窓を 少し 開ける
一声だけ 遠くで 鳴いて
それきり 続かない
声のした 方を 見る
庭の 木の 高い 枝
ほととぎす 鳴きつる方を ながむれば
ただ有明の 月ぞ残れる
声は もう どこにも なくて
薄い 月だけが 残っている
朝に なりかけの 空の 端に
忘れものみたいに ひとつ
もう一度 鳴くのを 待つあいだに
空の 青が 増えていく
月は 少しずつ 薄くなって
窓の 縁に 消えかける
声は 一度 それだけで
夏の 朝が 始まる
ほととぎす 鳴きつる方を ながむれば
ただ有明の 月ぞ残れる
声を 探した 目の 先に
薄い 月だけが 残っている
夜の 終わりと 朝の はじまりの
あいだに ひとつ
聞こえたのは 本当に 鳥だったのか
訊く 相手は もう いない
ただ 見上げた 空に
月が あった それだけ
ほととぎす 鳴きつる方を ながむれば
ただ有明の 月ぞ残れる
一声の あとの 静けさに
薄い 月だけが 残っている
それを 見ていた 朝が あった
夏の はじめの
月ぞ残れる……
一日が 始まる
Hototogisu (Senzai-shu / Go-Tokudaiji no Sadaijin, Hyakunin Isshu No. 81) Garu JP
The eastern sky begins to pale
I open the window a crack
One call, far away —
and nothing follows
I look toward where it came from
the high branch of the garden tree
I turn to where the cuckoo sang —
and only the dawn moon is left in the sky
The voice is nowhere now
only a thin moon is left
at the edge of a sky turning into morning
like something forgotten, one
While I wait for it to call again
the blue in the sky keeps growing
The moon grows fainter, little by little
about to vanish at the window's edge
One call, and only that —
the summer morning begins
I turn to where the cuckoo sang —
and only the dawn moon is left in the sky
Where my eyes went looking for the voice
only a thin moon is left
between the end of night
and the start of morning — one
Was it really a bird I heard?
There is no one left to ask
Only, in the sky I looked up at,
there was a moon. That is all
I turn to where the cuckoo sang —
and only the dawn moon is left in the sky
In the stillness after one call
only a thin moon is left
There was a morning when I watched it —
at the start of summer
The moon is all that remains...
The day begins