Waka, Op. 24a (1972)

Waka is the Japanese term for a poetry of sensibility which uses brief, elliptical statements about stylised subject matter in order to comment upon human experience. These poems, which date from around 1000AD, consist for the most part of single sentences; they have been grouped in various ways so as to take advantage of similarities and contrasts in the chosen texts.

There are five groups connected by a piano refrain which is varied upon each of its four appearances. Thus, I, III, and V use images from nature and their relation to man’s feelings about himself, while II and IV are direct reflections upon the central adventure of his life, the pursuit of love with all its uncertain certainties. In the final poem the Japanese equivalent of the Greek Charon is invoked; the guardian of nirvana who hears the cries of the migrating souls as if they were sea-birds is imagined on the shore at Awaji, and by a characteristic play upon words the place-name has a double meaning, “sea-foam” and “never-finding”. 

The English text is the work of the American poet Kenneth Rexroth, and the poems were chosen from his anthology of translations, “One Hundred Poems from the Japanese” (New Directions, New York, 1964).

© Justin Connolly

Waka was commissioned by Eiko Nakamura with funds from the Arts Council of Great Britain and was first performed by her (with Jonathan Hinden, piano) at the Wigmore Hall, 28 March 1972. This initial version (Op. 24) set the poems in Japanese.

The cycle was recomposed in 1982, setting the poems in English translation. This essentially new work (Op. 24a) was first performed by Sue Anderson (with Murray Hipkin, piano) at the British Music Information Centre, 2 March 1982.

(The version with orchestra, listed in The New Grove as Op. 24b, was either never composed, or has not survived.)

I. a.
The hanging raindrops have not yet dried from the needles of the fir forest before the evening mist of autumn arises.
Murasme no tsuyu no mada hinu maki no ha ni kiri tachi noboru aki no yungure.
b.
The cry of the stag in the empty mountains is so loud that an echo answers him as though it were a doe.
Yama biko no ai to yomu made tsuma goi ni ka naku yama beni hitori nomishte.
c.
The deer on the pine mountain where there are no falling leaves knows the coming of autumn only by the sound of his own voice.
Momiji senu tokiwa no yama nisumu shka wa onore nakito ya aki wo shiruman.

II. a.
Do not smile to yourself like a green mountain with a cloud drifting across it. People will know that we are in love.
Aoyama wo yoko giru kumo no ichijiroku ware to emashte hito mi shirayu na.
b.
That spring night I spent pillowed on your arm never really happened, except in a dream; unfortunately I am talked about anyway.
Haru no yo no yume bakari naru te makura ni kai nak tonamu na koso oshkere.
c.
Yes, I am in love; they were talking about me before daylight, although I began to love without knowing it.
Koi s'tef' wanga na wa madaki tachi mi keri hto shirezu koso omoi someshing.
d.
You say, "I will come", and you do not come. Now you say, "I will not come", so I shall expect you. Have I learned to understand you?
Komu to yu mo konu toki aru wo koji to yo wo komu to wa mataji koji to yu mono wo.

III. a.
In the mountain village the wind rustles the leaves. Deep in the night the deer cry out beyond the edge of dreams.
Yama zato no inaba no kaze ni nezame shte yo fkaku shka no koe wo kiku kane.
b.
Though the purity of the moonlight has silenced both nightingale and cricket, the cuckoo alone sings all the white night.
Unguisu mo korogi mo ne wo uchtae te sayakeki yoru wo naku hototogisu.

IV. a.
Someone passes, and while I wonder if it is he, the midnight moon is covered with clouds.
Menguri aite mishi ya sore to mo wakamu kumo kakurenishi yoha no tauki kange.
b.
I should not have waited. It would have been better to have slept and dreamed than to have watched night pass, and this slow moon sink.
yasura wa de ne ma mashi mono wo sayo fkete katabuku made no tsuki wo mishi kanda.
c.
Now to meet only in dreams, bitterly seeking, starting from sleep, groping in the dark with hands that touch nothing.
Ime no ai wa kurushkareri odorikite kaki sanguredomo te ni mo furenaba.
d.
Have you any idea how long a night can last, lying awake and sobbing?
Nageki tsutsu hitori nuru yo no akuru ma wa ika ni hisashki mono, to ka wa shiru.

V. a.
Mists rise over the still pools at Asuka. Memory does not pass away so easily
As'ka ngawa kawa yodo sarazu tatsu kiri no omoi sugu beki koi ni aranaku ni.
b.
Out in the marsh reeds a bird cries out in sorrow, as though it had recalled something better forgotten.
Wasurete no aru beki mono wo ashi hara ni omoi izuru no naku zo kanashki
c.
Guardian of the Gate of Suma how many nights have you been awakened by the Seabirds of the Isle of Awaji?
Awaji shima kayou chidori no naku koe ni iku yo nezamenu Suma no sekimori.