Having talked about the four most famous women poets and prose authors of Heian Japan, it’s only right I introduce some of those history hasn’t been so kind to. All are more than worthy of being remembered and appreciated.
There are many more than I can do justice, but I’ll start with these four women…
Akazome Emon
Akazome Emon also served in the court of Empress Akiko, with Izumi Shikibu and Murasaki Shikibu. She was well liked by the other ladies, including Sei Shōnagon, with whom she corresponded, and had a happy marriage that produced two daughters and a son, whose career she assiduously nurtured, further enhancing her reputation as an exemplary spouse and mother. After her husband died, she became a nun and spent her remaining years quietly, living long enough to see a great grandson born.
She is another of the Thirty-six Poetic Geniuses and Thirty-six Female Poetic Geniuses and according to records we have, in her day, she was considered by many to be the equal of Izumi Shikibu. Later, her most impressive accomplishment came to seen as authoring, at least in part, the Eiga Monogatari (A Tale of Flowering Fortunes), a classic in Japanese literature based on the career of her illustrious patron, Fujiwara no Michinaga. She is believed to be the first woman to create such a work.
Two of her poems appear below.
You see—
My heart
I have held back these years
So,
The wing-beats of lovebirds
Are not easy to bear, this morning...
I should’ve gone to bed
and slept soundly, carefree…
But all through the night,
I gazed at the moon
until it finally set.
Ise no Tayū
Ise no Tayū was another court lady served with Murasaki Shikibu and Izumi Shikibu, with whom she became friends. Also talented in music, she was very popular for her ability to compose both excellent songs and poems. Although she is less well-known than Izumi Shikibu and Ono no Komachi, she is also ranked among the Thirty-six Poetic Geniuses and the Thirty-six Female Poetic Geniuses.
This is my favorite poem of hers.
Hour after sleepless hour
I stare into the night, my vacant gaze
fixed on the dew scattered
across white blossoms
by the night’s wind.
Shunzei’s Daughter
Fujiwara no Shunzei no Musume, better known as Shunzei’s Daughter, was actually the granddaughter of the famous poet and literary critic, Fujiwara no Shunzei, who lived from 1114 to 1204. She lived into the 1200s and is considered the greatest female poet of her day. She is also known for being the author of a work of literary criticism, the first in Japanese history by a woman.
Her poem below gave me the title of my first-ever work of poetry, and it is one of my favorite poems of all time.
Wind song carrying the scent of flowers to my sleeve, awakens me on a pillow sweetly perfumed by a spring night’s dream.
Princess Shokushi
Princess Shokushi lived from 1149 until 1201 and was one of the most important poets of her day. Because Teika wrote about her extensively in his diary and she also kept a diary, we know many more details of her life than most of her sister poets. The third daughter of Emperor Go-Shirakawa, she served as high priestess of the Kamo Shrine, a position only an imperial princess could fill, then studied poetry with the two most celebrated poets and critics of the 12th century: Fujiwara no Shunzei and his son, Fujiwara no Teika, who compiled the famous Hyakunin Isshu (100 Poets, One Poem Each). She and Teika may have been romantically involved; certainly they were very close.
Her poems are full of longing but also a sensibility regarding the past and leaving a mark for the future. One of her poems reads:
If no one kept
what has happened
in traces of a brush,
how could we ever meet
the unknown past?
Princess Shokushi lived in the turbulent time when the Heian era finally ended; a period when Japan was rocked by major rebellions and natural disasters. Her own life was marred by illness but she, along with Shunzei’s Daughter, were the last two clear, brilliant, deeply moving voices of a shining era, the like of which we have never seen again.
Here are three of my favorite poems of hers.
Plum blossoms
accompanied
by a trace of love:
their scent on your cloak,
distinct, unfaded.
What to do?
Like the waves
beating on the beach,
I, in unknown love,
am shattering myself...
As spring comes
my heart melts,
and I forget how
like the soft snow
I go on fading...
This final poem deserves some additional comment. The romaji is:
haru kureba kokoro
mo tokete awayuki
no aware
furiyuku mi
o shiranu ka na
In it, furu in furiyuku means “to fall (like snow)” and also “to grow old.” In this, we hear the echo of Ono no Komachi’s “long rains.” Two women, separated by four centuries, but sharing one heart.
Thank you for allowing me to share these extraordinary women and their amazing work with you. It means more that I can say!