It's been a busy few weeks, been working on this for a while, hoping I can get back on track... but there's a lot going on even now so it might not work out so well...

額田王下近江国時作歌井戸王即和歌

額田王、近江の国に下る時に作る歌、井戸王、即ち和ふる歌

Nukata no Opokimi, a poem composed at the time of descending to the province of Apumi, Yi no pe no Opokimi, a poem in reply

味酒　三輪乃山　青丹吉　奈良能山乃　山際　伊隠萬代　道隈　伊積流萬代尓　委曲毛　見菅行武雄　數々毛　見放武八萬雄　情無　雲乃　隠障部之也

味酒三輪の山あをによし奈良の山の山の際にい隠るまで道の隈い積もるまでにつばらにも見つつ行かむをしばしばも見放けむ山を心なく雲の隠さふべしや

Umasake                              Delicious wine

Miwa no yama                    Mount Miwa- where wine is offered to the gods,

Awo ni yoshi                        Blue earth,

Nara no yama no                Mount Nara - rich with blue clay,

Yama no ma ni                    Between the mountains

Ikakuru made                     Until they are disappear

Michi no kuma                    The bends in the road

Itsumoru made ni               Until they pile up

Tsubara ni mo                    How intently

Mitsutsu yukamu wo          I will fix my gaze upon them as I go

Shiba shiba mo                  Over and over

Misakemu yama wo          These mountains which I seek to gaze upon and reflect,

Kokoro naku                     Heartlessly

Kumo no                           how can the clouds

Kakusapu beshi ya           continue to hide them from me so?

反歌

三輪山乎　然毛隠賀　雲谷裳　情有南畝　可苦佐布倍思哉

三輪山をしかも隠すか雲だにも心あらなも隠さふべしや

Miwayama wo                               Mount Miwa—

Shikamo kakusu ka                      must you hide it like that?

Kumo dani mo                              Even clouds

Kokoro aranamo                        ought to have hearts;

Kakusapu beshi ya                      How can you continue to hide it?

右二首歌山上憶良大夫類聚歌林曰遷都近江国時御覧三輪山御歌焉日本書紀曰六年丙寅春三月辛酉朔己卯遷都于近江

右の二首の歌は、山上憶良大夫が類聚歌林には「都を近江の国に遷す時に、三輪山を御覧す御歌なり」といふ。日本書紀には「六年丙寅の春の三月、辛酉の朔の己卯に、都を近江に遷す」といふ。

Regarding the above two poems, Lord Yamanoue no Okura says in Ruijiu Karin, “At the time the capital was moved to the province of Apumi, the honorable poems upon gazing at Mount Miwa.” In the Nihon Shoki it says, “In the third month of spring of the sixth year Older brother of fire Tiger, in the beginning of the month of the Younger brother of metal Bird on the Older brother of earth Rabbit day, [they] moved the capital to Apumi.”

綜麻形乃　林始乃　狭野榛能　衣尓著成　目尓都久和我勢

綜麻形の林のさきのさ野榛の衣に付くなす目につく我が背

Pesokata no                            Line of spun hemp thread

Payashi no saki no                 At the edge of the forest

Sano hari no                          The hazel trees in the field

Kinu ni tsuku nasu                Just as they bring color to my garment

Me ni tsuku wa ga se             My beloved is brought before my eyes

右一首歌今案不似和歌但舊本載于此次故以猶載焉

右の一首の歌は、今案ふるに和ふる歌に似ず。ただし、旧本、この次に載す。この故になほし載す。

Regarding the above poem, thinking of it now it does not resemble a reply poem. In an old book, it lists it as next. Therefore, we list it here.

These three poems are, according to the preface provided, composed upon the move of the capital to Apumi (Ōmi) in 667 during the reign of Emperor Tenchi. There is a lot of speculation as to the significance of/the reason for this move: the capital since the beginning of the Yamato state had always been in the Kinki region, and moving outside of it was unheard of. Many attribute the move to Tenchi's fear of retaliation from the T'ang/Shilla army following the loss at the Battle of the Paekchon River. However, the move did not take place for a full four years after the battle and there were other factors at play. Regardless, the move was of course an emotional time for the emperor and the courtiers accompanying the emperor on the journey into Ōmi. Leaving the land their ancestors had long ruled from in various locations, they pass the famous Mount Miwa, long revered as the symbol of Emperor Sujin's court; it had been played down vs. Mount Kagu which became the symbol of the court from the time of Emperor Keitai, but the ancient religiosity of the mountain, its sacred quality and especially its deity were all very much likely at the forefront of the minds of the members of the imperial procession as it passed, and Nukata no Ōkimi captures that feeling in her choka + hanka combination which evoke the traditional images associated with the mountain while conveying the speaker's reluctance to leave it behind, the mountain with such a deep connection to the “history” of the Yamato court. Leaving the mountains behind is a symbol of leaving the Yamato basin behind, the land so long (well, how long is the question but...) the center of power for the Yamato rulers. Nukata no Ōkimi, as the “poetess of great words,” puts the feelings of the Emperor into song as we saw she often did with his mother Saimei (now passed away....). That is why again the quote from Yamanoue no Okura again assigns these two poems to the Emperor (Tenchi) in contrast to the headnote which designates it as the work of Nukata. Nukata, with her incredible poetic talents, was able to capture the emotions flowing through the emperor and the various other members of the procession through her poem.

The poem by Yi no pe no Opokimi (Inoe no Ōkimi) is a poem in reply to the two by Nukata; although the classical editors note following it that it does not seem like a reply to the previous two, Itō Haku makes an intriguing argument relating to an old myth about Mount Miwa that indeed seems to support that it is in fact a reply poem and a very cleverly constructed one (or at least it is a poem related to Mount Miwa and therefore is appropriately listed following the two Nukata verses).

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of Nukata's choka + hanka is the role of the clouds; the personification of them as something that is inhibiting her desire to gaze at the mountain and reflect on the years gone by. However, the question is whether this can truly be labeled personification—ancient Japanese religious tradition and the consciousness of the people of this period would have the clouds as deities anyway, as agents of change rather than as passive bodies of condensed water vapor floating along the wind. Thus a transitive verb is used (“kakusafu”) to describe the action of the clouds. The desire of the speaker to fixate their gaze on the mountain as a means of reflecting on the location which they are now leaving, is interesting again considering the relative importance of Mount Kagu from the time of Emperor Keitai compared to Mount Miwa, but Mount Miwa was again still a very sacred place and one of the symbols of Yamato, along with Mount Nara which is also mentioned in the choka, and so the speaker announces that until those mountains are hidden between the other moutains, and until the bends in the road pile up (i.e. they have gone too far for it to be visible any longer) she wants to keep gazing at them; with that strong desire, how can the heartless clouds even think to hide them from her? Even clouds ought to have hearts, and understand her desire... she (he/they) is leaving a place very dear, and faced with inevitable parting all that is left to do is gaze at the scenery of Yamato as it descends further and further into the distance. Clouds are the villain here, the obstruction preventing the realization of that desire. It is interesting that the clouds do not appear in the narrative until the end of the choka, however; we can almost feel the movement of the speaker/the procession through the lines of the choka. First we are at the foot of Mount Miwa, then Mount Nara, both with their traditional epithets, then we can feel them getting further and further away; we can feel the speaker straining to look behind as they go, even as the two mountains become lost among the others, and even as the road behind them expands and places more distance between themselves and the sacred mountains. And just while the speaker is gazing back at the mountains, trying to keep them in view, the clouds take over the scene. The movement of both space and time are thus very tangible in the narrative of the poem. The hanka, however, focuses on the last part, perhaps because it is the here and now, the end result of the speaker's effort to keep the mountains in view that was foiled by the clouds: the speaker laments that clouds too ought to have a heart to understand the difficulty of parting with these symbols of Yamato and the past/courtly tradition, so how can they be so cold to hide the mountains from her?

As far as content goes, with the procession leaving Yamato for Apumi and lamenting the disconnection with the past and tradition that is thus encountered, the “reply” poem does not seem all that connected. Although it makes use of an ancient/local name for Mount Miwa (Pesokata) it lacks any sort of a similar lamenting tone. Rather it likens the way that the image of her love “attaches” to her eyes, or rather appears before her, to the way the hazel trees “attach” color to her clothes; the verb used in both cases is tsuku, in Japanese, having many meanings and thus the parallel is set up cleverly; I attempted to mimic this in my translation by using the verb “bring” in a similar way but it does not work quite a well. The “line of spun hemp thread” (pesokata no) as Itō hypothesizes sets the scene at Mount Miwa due to its connection with an old local legend about the mountain: a young beautiful girl named Ikutamayoribime living near the mountain who did not seem to have any male visitors somehow ended up pregnant, and when her parents asked her how it happened, she explained that a beautiful man she had never seen before suddenly appeared and … impregnated her. Wanting to know where he lived, by the order of the parents she sprinkled red earth on the floor and attached a needle threaded with a spool of hemp thread to the skirt of the man's garment (assumably when he next visited her), and the next morning the parents followed it to the shrine on Mount Miwa. They therefore discovered the man was in fact the god of Mount Miwa (miwa meaning three rings, which was all that was left on the spool of hemp thread in the morning, so that is where the name came from). Therefore “shape” of a line of hemp thread is another way to refer to Mount Miwa. Because of the “hari” meaning hazel tree also meaning needle, another way to interpret the part of the poem where the “color of the hazel trees in the field at the edge of the forest bring color to my garment” is that the “needle” attaches to “my garment” just as the needle threaded with hemp thread is attached to the garment of the god of Mount Miwa in the story. The “beloved” (wa ga se) mentioned at the end therefore could be then interpreted as the god and the poet as speaking from the perspective of the girl in the story. The image of her beloved appears as the color of the hazel trees bring color to her garment or as the needle is attached to the garment (thereby leading her to him as the girl/parents are led to Mount Miwa in the story). Therefore this poem is in fact rich with local flavor of the area around Mount Miwa, but whether it is a direct reply to Nukata no Ōkimi is questionable; but it fits well into the “narrative” of the Man'yoshu just where it is.

中大兄（近江宮御于天皇）三山歌

Poem about the “Three Mountains” by Naka no Ohoe (the sovereign who reigned the realm beneath the heavens from the palace at Afumi)

高山波　雲根火雄男志等　耳梨與　相諍競伎　神代従　如此尓有良之　古昔母　然尓有許曽　虚蝉毛　嬬乎　相格良思吉

香具山は畝傍を惜しと耳成と相争ひき神代よりかくにあるらしいにしへもしかにあれこそうつせみも妻を争ふらしき

Kaguyama ha                        Mount Kagu,

Unebi wo woshi to                fearing the loss of Unebi,

Miminashi to                         fought with

Ahi arasohiki                         Miminashi.

Kamiyo yori                          From that time in the Age of the Gods,

Kaku ni aru rashi                 it seems it has been this way

Inishihe mo                           In times past

Shika ni are koso                  as it was also that way

Utsusemi mo                        So it seems that in this world

Tsuma wo                            Over spouses

Arasofu rashiki                    we fight.

(traditional interpretation)

or.....

Kaguyama ha                       Mount Kagu,

Unebi wowoshi to                 finding Unebi gallant,

Miminashi to                         disobeyed

Ahi arasohiki                       Miminashi.

Kamiyo yori                         From that time in the Age of the Gods,

Kaku ni aru rashi                it has been this way

Inishihe mo                          In times past

Shika ni are koso               as it was also that way

Utsusemi mo                     So it seems that in this world

Tsuma wo                          Our spouses

Arasofu rashiki                   we disobey.

反歌

高山与　耳梨山与　相之時　立見尓来之　伊奈美国波良

香具山と耳成山とあひし時立ちて見に来し印南国原

Kaguyama to                    When Mount Kagu

Miminashi yama to           and Mount Miminashi

Ahishi toki                        had their fight

Tachite mi ni koshi          He came to see this land,

Inami kunihara                 The great plain of Inami.

渡津海乃　豊旗雲尓　伊理比紗之　今夜乃月夜　清明己曽

海神の豊旗雲に入日さし今夜の月夜さやけくありこそ

Watatsumi no                    Over the great sea

Toyo hata kumo ni           Through the abundant banner clouds

Irihi sashi                          The setting sun shines

Koyohi no tsukuyo            May the moonlight this evening

Sayakeku ari koso             also shine brilliantly.

右の一首の歌は、案ふるに反歌に似ず。ただし、旧本、この歌をもちて反歌に載す。この故に、今もなほしこの次に載す。また、紀には「天豊財重日足姫天皇の先の四年乙巳に、天皇を立てて皇太子となす」といふ。

The above poem, in thinking about it does not seem like an envoy. However, in an old book, this poem was listed as an envoy. Therefore, now we have put it as an envoy following this. Also, in the Chronicles [Nihon shoki] it says, “In the fourth year Younger Brother of Wood Snake of the first reign of Ame toyo takara ikashi hitarashi hime no Sumera Mikoto [Empress Kōgyoku], he was made crown prince.”

The first two poems here seem relatively unconnected to the the third, whose images differ entirely with the first two. The note following the third poem admits it does not seem to be an envoy to the chōka, but lists it as such because it had been included as one in an older book.

The chōka & hanka team here (poems 13 & 14) are part of, and possibly the origin of, the infamous story of the love triangle involving Tenchi, Tenmu, and Nukata no Ōkimi. These two poems have traditionally been interpreted as Tenchi presenting an allegory for his struggle with Tenmu over Nukata, by invoking this old legend about a quarrel among the “three mountains of Yamato” found in the Harima no Kuni Fudoki (one of several texts compiled in the early eighth century about the various provinces that had come to be considered part of the domain of the Yamato court). However, there is no real evidence to support the idea of a love triangle except old legends (that probably started with this poem) and this poem. So, I tend to think Itō Haku is more correct in his interpretation that this poem was likely part of the ritual involved in passing through a particular province, as with several of the previous poems, in that Tenchi here is invoking a well known story of the country he is passing through to submit a ritualized plea for safety on the journey to the deities of the particular region via a poem. By relating the world/era of the gods to the world/reality of now, he is calling out to the spirits of the region (who of course still reside there). The connection he makes, that the story is the reason why people continue to fight over wives to this day (i.e. his day) is perhaps a bit out of context, though, I admit, for a travel poem asking for blessing from local deities. It would seem like it was somehow motivated by something for Tenchi personally, but the reality is we have no way to know either way. Perhaps it was only a natural way to conclude a poem concerning that particular legend of the three mountains' love triangle; but Tenchi does spend about half the poem pointing out that from the age of the gods it was “this way,” and in the past it was “that way,” so in the present world it must also be. Making the point that this (mal-)practice has an origin with the gods and has been passed down thusly to the present reality seems to suggest something about the present reality, that a parallel situation is occurring, and that parallel situation might involve Tenchi himself... or it might not. It could simply involve someone close to him etc.

So there is plenty of reason one might want to go with the traditional view that this poem is somehow representative of the conflict between Tenchi-Nukata-Tenmu, if there was one. Itō Haku suggests that based on the region being sung about, that this poem was composed on the journey to fight for Paekche at Saimei's command. Thus in attendance to the journey would have been Saimei and Nukata, whom we have already seen poems from/concerning on this particularly journey, as well as Tenmu and Tenchi's own wife, thought to be Nukata's older sister. The second reading of the poem makes Mount Kagu the female in the triangle, and her judging Unebi to be “gallant,” inspires a disagreement between her and Miminashi, who would then be her husband. I'm not sure which view is in accordance with the actual legend, but the difference here is in the second ku “Unebi wo woshi to” being interpreted as “Unebi wowoshi to,” changing the meaning from “fearing the loss of Unebi,” to “thinking Unebi gallant,” with the subject still Mount Kagu, i.e. changing Mount Kagu into a female who is straying/disobeying her husband. I mention this theory not only because it is the other main way to interpret this poem but because based on the meaning of the verb “arasofu” in this period, it seems more apt to render it disobey/oppose rather than an actual fight, although I suppose the meanings are connected enough. This particular theory incorporates that type of nuance for “arasofu” quite well, however. I am still partial to read it the other way, although I'm curious exactly how the legend is supposed to go. It may well be part of the Harima no Kuni Fudoki that is no longer extant, since both interpretations are put forward currently.

The hanka further delves into the legend, the way Itō Haku interprets it, as involved the figure Abono Ohomikami, who is said to come from Izumo to Harima upon hearing about the quarrel, and when he arrives at the great plain of Inami, he hears the fight has stopped. Although the subject is not specified in the hanka, it becomes clear to someone knowledgeable of this legend that “he” rather than a first person subject is meant. Conversely, one could see it functioning as both he/I, with Tenchi likening himself to the deity by saying he has come to see the great plain of Inami just as Abono Ohomikami had upon hearing of the quarrel. One might even see Tenchi as speaking for Abono Ohomikami, as Abono Ohomikami... therefore the poetic voice is not Tenchi's but Abono Ohomikami. If one were to continue with the interpretation of the Tenchi-Nukata-Tenmu triangle, one might then think of Abono Ohomikami coming again to the great plain of Inami upon hearing about those three; i.e. the legend is recurring in the “present world.” However, what is really happening here may just be that the party had arrived at the great plain of Inami, and recalling the legend, Tenchi composed the chōka about it, and then in the hanka incorporated the place by recalling yet another aspect of the story, probably that which originally incited the poem, that of Abono Ohomikami's journey to Harima and particularly this plain of Inami. All of this would have been part of obtaining the blessing of the gods dwelling there, quite possibly that of Abono Ohomikami himself... this would be fairly standard practice in travel poetry, so taking the second level of meaning about the love triangle in the “present world” involves a certain level of abstraction that may or may not actually be there; as far as the response of the reader, however, it is perfectly acceptable. Although the Tenchi-Nukata-Tenmu triangle may not have been historical fact and it may not have been what Tenchi was attempting to address in these two poems, if that second layer of meaning inspires further enjoyment of the poem by a modern reader, there's nothing really wrong with that... in fact it kind of reminds me of a Korean drama I've seen recently (haha here we go intertextuality) so I like thinking of it that way... right or wrong it's enjoyable :)

The third poem, as mentioned, does not really seem to be a hanka as noted, but again has an air of religiosity about it. In speaking of the “great sea” the poem is also addressing the great spirit/deity of the sea, who is seen as controlling the “abundant banner clouds” through which the setting sun is shining. Both the notion of the spirit of the sea being in control of the clouds and just the general idea of the great outstretching sea are invoked by “watatsumi.” Possibly the speaker is expressing their wish for the moonlight to shine brightly as well to the spirit/deity of the sea, as the light shining over his domain could be seen as being in his control. Regardless, on the surface the poem seems quite simplistic in the speaker's wish for the moonlight to be bright as well, but the religious undertone adds yet another dimension of direct and at the same time indirect address to the deity expressing these wishes. The tone seems to be that of a sea traveler wishing the light at night to be just as bright as to ensure a safe journey, perhaps, in tone with the previous poems which serve as pleas to the deities for safe passage. However, the poem still seems pretty unrelated to the previous two. We cannot really be sure if it's also by Tenchi, but one might think that even though it's unrelated perhaps that was why it was included with the other two, due to common authorship; however, there is one theory that the poem is by Nukata, and Itō Haku agrees with this, citing that he thinks she is the only one who could compose such a poem (implying its superiority to the previous two). I am not really sure what to think, but if the previous poems pleaing with the deities for safe passage were by Nukata, and she as the “possessor of great words” were to have composed this it would not be strange, but there is no way to prove authorship.

紀伊の温泉に幸す時に、額田王が作る歌

莫囂円隣之大相七兄爪謁気我が背子がい立たせりけむ厳橿が本

幸于紀温泉之時額田王作歌

莫囂円隣之　大相七兄爪謁気　吾瀬子之　射立為兼　五可新何本

At the time of the Imperial procession to the hot springs in Kii, a poem by Nukata no Okimi

Maku mari no 　　　　　　In the Maku forest

Ta so nae tsumaeke 　　　who is gathering the withered plants?

A ga seko no 　　　　　　　My dear husband

Itataserikemu 　　　　　　must have been standing there

Itsukashi ga moto 　　　　underneath the sacred oak.

Okay so I played around with the first two lines of this a lot, trying to get some sort of reading out of it. There are a lot of theories but no agreed-upon reading for these two lines of one of the most enigmatic “nankun” poems of the Man'yoshu. I mean honestly who am I to expect I can come up with a reading that generations of scholars (dating from Sengaku in the 13^th century) could not. Well I attempted it anyway... thinking it couldn't hurt to have a fresh pair of eyes look at it, and I really do enjoy these sorts of puzzles. So I went for it. And the results were, expectedly, inconclusive. I came up with a couple possibilities, such as “nagomarishi taahi nae so eke” only the first part of which would make sense, or “maku mari no ta so nae tsumaeke” which you know what I think I'm gonna go with. It's probably completely wrong, but it at least could mean something. I though the “maku” reading would be appropriate considering how the Japanese transcribed a Paekche instrument called a “makumo” as 莫目 so why not... and the reading for the second character is in modern “gō” (or “kō”) but who's to say it couldn't have been read “ku” or “gu”... I've seen this in other instances. The character “円” seems like it is usually read “ma” rather than any sort of “e” sound in these type of transcriptions, the “隣” is pretty constant as “ri”, and the “之” could be either “shi” or “no” but let's try “no.” Really it's one of those why the heck not type of situations... no one knows how it should be read, so let's just read it however we please. The next seven are even more troublesome. “大相” looks like some sort of compound, in fact it's a title in ancient China I am told, but it does not appear elsewhere in Japanese 8^th century texts (thank you to my advisor yesterday for helping me figure all this out...) so really how to read this is anyone's guess. “大” is usually read “ta” in the Man'yoshu, so I went with that, and “相” I feel like is usually read “ahi” when I've seen it but as that didn't make much sense, I went for the Chinese reading which would be something like “so” I suppose (i.e. an emphatic so/zo). This actually helped me determine the final “気” should be read “ke” instead of “ki” because the so/zo would make a kakari musubi so that the end would have to be an izenkei form, and those usually have the “e” sound. “七” and “兄” have pretty standard sounds in the Man'yoshu as “na” and “e” so I thought it best to stick with those... no need to wander away from a fairly standard reading. “爪” is almost always read “tsuma” when used in transcriptions in the 8^th century (again I owe this knowledge to the conversation with my advisor yesterday... thank you Professor...) so I opted to stick with that. Now “謁” I wondered quite a while about how to read... it's modern on-yomi being “etsu” and kun “mamieru” or “tsugeru.” I'm personally not that familiar with the character's usage. It's also the only usage in the Man'yoshu and 8^th century transcriptions (man'yo gana) so there was no point of reference. A lot of characters simply have their reading truncated, however, when used in Man'yo gana, so I figured “e” would be a safe guess. This would enable me to interpret the “e” as the mizenkei of “yu,” a passive auxiliary verb used exclusively in the Jodai period. Attached to it's mizenkei “e” would then be “ke,” the izenkei (because of the kakarimusubi) of the “ku” form, a nominalizing auxiliary verb again used exclusively in Jodai. So the literal meaning would essentially then be, for the first two lines “As for the gathering of the withered plants in Maku forest, who was it?” and then what follows would be the poet speculating her husband must have been there standing under the sacred tree (i.e. was it him...?)

Again, this is probably all completely wrong. But I like that I had fun with it and produced something that could actually means something and is grammatically correct. Also “mari” is not really forest, “mori” would be, but based on some theories I've read about the transformation of the Paekche word “mori/mari” (mountain) into the Japanese “mori” I thought why not think of it as a forest, it could also have been mountain, sure. There is an example of a poem by Saimei (very close to Nukata, remember? Ito Haku thinks this poem too is Nukata reading a poem to express Saimei's feelings) in the Nihon shoki that uses the form “mure” for hill/mountain, so why not? With theories abound about Nukata & Saimei's origins possibly being connected to Paekche, it can work. And even if not, we can still interpret it as “forest” and perhaps re-read “円” as “mo” and think of it as an anomaly. There was no set orthography so really, why not? But I like to think this might have been mountain/forest(maybe the word incorporated a more general concept of 'wilderness') in its transitional form and so “mari” would then work. Regardless, my reading is probably all wrong anyway so it doesn't really matter.

Ito Haku and others speculate elaborately that the first two lines here are made deliberately illegible to outside parties. Perhaps Nukata (and/or Saimei) was trying to mask some sort of secret happenings regarding Saimei's nephew Arima, or Nukata was sending a secret message to Tenmu (her husband) as the poem addresses him. I would argue that if that was the case, if people were not supposed to be able to know what the poem said, why include it in the Man'yoshu? Why anthologize something meant to be private? I mean in a way the Man'yoshu still would have only been accessible to certain people and thus was still sort of “private” but it still seems a bit odd to me to include something that no one could read in a collection of poetry for the ages.

There probably was some way that Nukata intended this to be read and no one will ever know what it was. I like to think my reading is a valiant attempt to decipher something considered un-decipherable, however wrong it may be. I prefer doing that to just putting XXXXXXX for the first two lines because no one knows what it means. I like a challenge, and even though I could never know if I'm right I enjoyed doing this more than just saying “no one knows” and moving on. Well I might try to figure out what this poem might say in idu/Paekche later once I've got a better grasp on those two things, I tried a bit yesterday hence the reference to the Paekche instrument but I just didn't find enough information on readings in Paekche... so I think I would have to go to idu next. But that is for another day, I think I made a good attempt for now. On to poem #10 asap.