translated by Jane Hirshfield
Although the wind
blows terribly here,
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks
of this ruined house.
Izumi Shikibu was a Heian era Japanese poet (late 10th century, early 11th century), and her poetry frequently combines romantic, erotic longing with Buddhist contemplation. This poem comes to us courtesy of Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aratani's 1990 book, The Ink Dark Moon: Love Poems by Onono Komachi and Izumi Shikibu, Women of the Ancient Court of Japan. I do not typically feature poetry in translation, but this gripped me for the way it frames nature and our perception of it through an ephemeral human lens.
Wind and moonlight, in this poem, act like invaders. The wind blows terribly, and the moonlight leaks through roof planks. The house is ruined. That said, the wind and moonlight didn't ruin it. If anything, the house was the invader. The framing of familiar poetic elements through the slats of a house falling apart is inherently romantic, and instills a sense of longing into the poem. It does so with great economy, being only five lines. It's also an incredibly clear image, despite having so little detail. I know it certainly got my imagination racing.
I hesitate to go much further in analysis, given that this is in translation, and I have no personal ability to compare it to the source material. I don't know if there are shades of meaning that are lost to translation, or if I am reading into the text things that aren't there due to Shikibu's biography, but I can also think of this poem as a reaction to a love that has fallen apart. The house would be the relationship itself, and the wind that blows so terribly through it the falling out of love of the participants. I don't think that's textually supported, but it's a romantic thought nonetheless.