Departure (ch.1) continued
門出したるところは、めぐりなどもなくて、かりそめの茅屋(かやや)の、しとみなどもなし。簾(すだれ)かけ、幕などひきたり。南ははるかに野の方見やれる。ひむがし西は海近くて、いと面白し。夕霧立ち渡りて、いみじうをかしければ朝寝(あさい)などもせず、方々見つつ、ここを立ちなむことも哀れに悲しきに、同じ月の十五日、雨かきくらし降るに、境を出でて、しもつさの国のいかたという所に泊まりぬ。庵など浮きぬばかりに雨降りなどすれば、恐ろしくて寝(い)も寝られず、野中に岡だちたる所に、ただ木ぞ三つたてる。その日は雨にぬれたる物どもを乾し、国にたちおくれたる人々待つとて、そこに日を暮しつ。
The place we had departed for (in Imatachi) had not the slightest fencing shrubbery. It was no more than a thatch-roofed hut for temporary shelter, without even a shitomi. There was just the barest screen, and a bit of curtain. To the south, one could see fields stretching into the distance. On the east and the west, the sea was nearby--very pleasant. In the eveing, the mists would rise and envelop us, and it was all so interesting I could never sleep late, always looking here and there, feeling sad and thinking it a pity we would eventually have to leave this place too. But on the fifteenth of the same month, on a day dark with pouring rain, we crossed the border and camped at a place called Ikata in the country of Shimotsusa (later and now, Shimōsa). It rained so hard it felt like our little shack might float away at any moment, and I was so afraid I could hardly sleep.
In the middle of the fields, we came across a small rise with a mere three trees. We spent that day drying our clothes soaked from the rain, and deciding to wait for those who had set out after us, we stayed there for the night.
How about that? A day after Matt's post on inu, it pops up not once, but twice in the next section of Sarashina I translate. First in 朝寝asa-i, "sleeping late (in the morning)", then in 寝も寝られずi mo nerarezu, "unable to sleep". Have to love coincidence
Other thoughts:
This place, Ikata, is thought by my book to be a mistake for Iketa, especially considering that there are records of an old neighborhood name 池田 Ikeda in modern Chiba City, near the 寒川(Samugawa??) area, right around where she should have been at this point in her journey. The connection seems very plausible to me, but not the part about the mistake. Especially in place names, there's a not uncommon a-mutation in Japanese compounds. For example,
風見 kaze + mi > Kazami (name)
金物 kane + mono > kanamono (old school word for "metals" before the upstart neo-sinic 金属)
白木 shiro + ki > shiraki (unvarnished wood, esp. for the construction of a Shinto temple, thanks 広辞苑!)
And so on. I find it most commonly in last names, and though I've never noticed a 田 triggering it, I don't see why it couldn't happen. Anyone know any examples of a-mutation before 田?
And while we're on derivations, notice the ultra-cool evidence of the origins of higashi "east". Supposedly from 日向風(hi-mu-kasi) "(the direction of) the sundwards wind", so old the mu hadn't become ku-ified yet.

7 Comments:
How about 酒田 for Sakata? Or closer to home, 稲田 for Inada? (On the Mito-sen!) More names of course, but that doesn't matter, right?
That's perfect! I should have remembered Inada. Or is it past Mito up north? The only time I go there is for those (mostly) horrid meetings, half asleep the whole ride.
That's evidence enough, I think. I'm sure Japan is just full of names gradually re-understood by applying the basic unmutated readings to the Kanji. Unless there's strong reason to believe otherwise, we should always trust the manuscript, I think, especially when the change is so plausible. I wish I had a copy of Martin's History of the Japanese language. Thinking of all this made me realize that I don't know the original point of the mutation. There is an o-mutation, too, like hotaru蛍(the ho from 火)、hokage火影, and kodachi木立. Since I can't think of any i->a examples, maybe i->o, and e/o->a. I wonder.
Nice! I always liked the three trees in this part, for some reason. Probably the zo.
You have to give it up for Sarashina -- she cries in the last part, there's all this rain in this one, and yet she still resists the temptation of drawing an explicit parallel between the two, or even mentioning her ambiguously wet sleeves. For a Heian author, I think that's remarkable self-restraint (especially given the lonely rustic setting!)
Speaking of which, I would read 庵など浮きぬばかりに雨降り as something like "It was raining so hard it seemed that some hermit's shack might float by at any minute", or even "It was raining so hard it seemed that our whole shack might float away" ... come to think of it, where WOULD they be spending the night? I don't know much about Heian travel...
Enki23 That was pretty negligent of me not to explicitly bring out the "floating" with all the rain--thanks.
The line did puzzle me, though. On the one hand she's trying to emphasize how hard it's raining, but why a hermitage. And more, why いお、not いおり, the way I learned the word? Granted it could be simply that so far back that was the normal form of the word for her. But when I did some cursory Kojien searching on my pocket, I came up with this:
「秋田刈る旅の庵に時雨降り」
It comes from the Manyoshu, which I don't know at all, sadly, but provisionally I thought this might be evidence for allusion. In Sarashina it's pouring, in the Manyoshu it's drizzling, but that would only improve the allusion, here with the hermit's shack being literally carried off by the rain. I don't know, honestly. What do you think?
(Sorry -- I'm enki23. Must not have signed in properly!)
If my second interpretation is correct, I suppose the obvious conclusion is that they were staying in an io(ri)? I don't think it has to be literally inhabited by a hermit to count as one, after all -- wouldn't any appropriately grassy/strawy hut do?
A quick bout with the trusty Iwanami kogo/koujien tag team suggests to me that iho was the original noun (possibly related to ihe -> modern ie!), ihoru arose as a verb meaning "to make and live in an iho", and "ihori" was a nominalization of the verb which came to refer to the living in of an iho and thus via synechdoche (? or metonymy? i always get those mixed up) the iho itself...
Why they didn't then repeat the process and eventually bequeath to us a super-conglomerate word like ihoriririririri I do not know.
That reminds me of what I haven't forgotten of Old Irish. There was such a strong initial accent that the copious prefixes got smushed into the verb stem so much they became new stems in their own right, which were immediately then re-prefixed. Re-smushed, re-re-prefixed, and so on, leaving in some cases a frankenstein melted-prefix chain with maybe an old initial root consonant hanging on for dear life at the end as the new new new stem.
That's cool about iori. Cooler by a factor of ten if it's related to ie. It's the same old problem. MJ interference. The specialized "house for crazy lonely mountain man" meaning must have come later. Certainly it makes more sense to interpret that as the place they nighted in Ikata. It comes right after the line that ends in 泊まりぬ, after all.
Egad, another Celtic fan?
I really like ihoriririririri! Comes with its own built-in mushi no ne sound effect for added rusticity!
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