Poem by the Bridge at Ten-Shin

March has come to the bridge head,Peach boughs and apricot boughs hang over a thousand gates,At morning there are flowers to cut the heart,And evening drives them on the eastward-flowing waters.Petals are on the gone waters and on the going,And on the back-swirling eddies,But to-day’s men are not the men of the old days,Though they hang in the same way over the bridge-rail.

The sea’s colour moves at the dawnAnd the princes still stand in rows, about the throne,And the moon falls over the portals of Sei-go-yo,And clings to the walls and the gate-top.With head gear glittering against the cloud and sun,The lords go forth from the court, and into far borders.They ride upon dragon-like horses,Upon horses with head-trappings of yellow metal,And the streets make way for their passage.Haughty their passing,Haughty their steps as they go into great banquets,To high halls and curious food,To the perfumed air and girls dancing,To clear flutes and clear singing;To the dance of the seventy couples;To the mad chase through the gardens.Night and day are given over to pleasureAnd they think it will last a thousand autumns,Unwearying autumns.For them the yellow dogs howl portents in vain,And what are they compared to the ladyRiokushu,That was cause of hate!Who among them is a man like Han-reiWho departed alone with his mistress,With her hair unbound, and he his own skiffsman!