The Tanka of Eishin-ryu: Part Seven – Urokogaeshi

In this series of articles, I am attempting to translate and contextualise the dōka of Hasegawa Eishin-ryū. All articles in this series can be found here. In this article, I will be looking at the tanka for the seventh technique, Urokogaeshi.

Nanahon-me: Urokogaeshi

Carp, by Hiroshige

Urokogaeshi is the seventh technique in Hasegawa Eishin-ryū, and is much simpler than the preceding three in terms of its execution.

In the past, I have seen the name of this waza translated as “Dragon Turn” on several websites. This seems to me like a mistranslation that has spread because many people do not understand the original Japanese. The word uroko (鱗) does not mean dragon, and although kaeshi (返) can mean ‘turn’ – as in ‘turn over’ or ‘turn back’ – the tanka below suggests another meaning. I can certainly see how the word ‘turn’ could be applied to this waza, especially as both it and Namigaeshi involve a physical turn around, but kaeshi does not normally express a rotation. As I will explain below, in the case of urokogaeshi I would rather emphasise ‘repel,’ or ‘push back.’ Kaeshi can also refer to a swift reversal in direction, and to turning an attack by an opponent into an counterattack of one’s own.

Uroko being translated as ‘dragon’ is less easy to fathom. Uroko means ‘scales’ – most commonly those of a fish. In fact, the word uroko itself is a metaphor for ‘fish.’ In particular, as in the case of this particular tanka, it refers to carp – koi in Japanese. As I explore below, it is possible that ‘dragon’ is extrapolated from a myth associated with the the carp described in the poem. However, although it would be foolish to ignore this connection, I still believe “Dragon Turn” is most likely a simple mistranslation.

Below is the waza Urokogaeshi as it appears in Musō Shinden-ryū:

An attack is met with a 90 degree turn towards the opponent and a horizontal nukitsuke, whilst keeping the body relatively low. This is followed by a step in, then a kneeling kirioroshi to finish off the repelled attacker.

鱗返

瀧の波瀬のぼる鯉のうろつくは
水せき上げておつることなし

Urokogaeshi

Taki no nami
Se noboru koi no
Urotsuku wa
Mizu sekiagete
Otsuru koto nashi

A carp swims upstream
Against the rapids of the
Rushing waterfall
Its struggle swells the water:
It will not be washed back down

In the poem above, the fish’s movement is described using the word urotsuku (うろつく), meaning to wander or mill about aimlessly. It also means to linger in a particular area. I have therefore translated this as ‘struggle’ to imply the carp pushing against the current, without making progress forward but also without being swept away. Its struggle causes the water to be repelled, thus allowing the carp to progress onwards.

However, there is an alternative that I think ought to be considered. Although I wrote in my first article that I would be translating the tanka as they appear in Jisaku Kamo’s book Musō Jikiden Eishin-ryū Iaidō, I feel that one particular variation is important enough to look at here.

In the variation in question, the word urotsuku is instead replaced with urokuzu (うろくづ), which is an old pronunciation of uroko. This certainly ties in with the name of the waza, and on analysis seems to make much more sense, both grammatically and thematically. Following consultation with a professional teacher of Japanese language, it seems quite possible that urotsuku is a misprint. However, I am in no position to judge definitively whether the version above is mistaken, or if both are equally valid. If we take the word to be urokuzu, the poem instead translates as:

A carp swims upstream
Against the rapids of the
Rushing waterfall
Water swells against its scales:
It will not be washed back down

I personally far prefer this version. Ultimately, the overall image of the poem changes little, but I think it is well worth considering both versions. In my following analysis I will try to cover both possible interpretations, but it should be noted I am leaning towards the second version.

The swelling of the water (mizu sekiagete) describes the water rising around the carp, repelled by its scales as it fights against the current. The term sekiageru in Japanese refers to water rising against an object – say, a rock – that the current cannot shift, and also implies a reverse in current that occurs when the flow is blocked. Thus the tanka above implies that the carp’s resistance to the current swells the water, weakening the flow and thus allowing it to continue its journey upstream.

The final line of the tanka, otsuru koto nashi, is interesting. Otsuru is an older form of ochiru (落ちる), to fall. Koto nashi states that such a thing does not occur. This could simply be taken to mean that the carp is not washed back down by the current. However it could also be taken to mean that the carp will leap the waterfall, although this is not stated explicitly.

Carp Streamer, by suneko on Flickr

The carp is a celebrated fish in Japan, and every year carp banners may be seen all over the country on Children’s Day. These banners are put on display to express the wish for sons to grow up healthy and strong. Under the Edo period caste system (shinōkōshō, with samurai at the top, followed by farmers, then craftsmen, with merchants at the bottom), only bushi were permitted to display these banners; when the caste system came to an end in the Meiji period, the custom became popular with the wider populace.

The image of the carp as a strong, powerful and determined creature comes from China, and the legend of the carp ascending the Dragon Gate (登龍門 in Japanese). As mentioned at the start of this article, this legend is clearly alluded to in the tanka above. I will recount it in brief here.

In the middle of the Yellow River, on the border between the neighbouring provinces of Shānxī and Shǎnxī, lies the Dragon Gate. Here a powerful waterfall that gushes from a rift in the mountain that lies in the path of the river. The channel through the mountain was supposedly cut by the semi-mythical ruler Yǔ the Great, who founded the Xia dynasty circa the 21st century BCE.

Carp transforming into a dragon

In spring each year, many carp swim upstream and gather beneath the Dragon Gate, struggling against the current. It is said that in the rare event that a carp manages to leap over the waterfall, it will metamorphose into a dragon and continue to rise into the air. The legend is a metaphor for struggling hard against almost overwhelming odds and overcoming them to achieve great success.

This metaphor appears in the History of the Later Han (後漢書), compiled in the 5th century, although the legend itself is much older. Here, the image of the carp is used to describe the bureaucrats who were selected for their skill by the governor Li Ying. When selected, these people were said to have “leapt the dragon gate” – their hard work and ability had paid off. The same is still said of students passing their exams today.

The Eishin-ryū tanka seems to be equating the practitioner with the carp and the attacking opponent with the current. The practitioner turns 90 degrees and rises slightly – this is perhaps alluded to in the poem by the description of the water “swelling up” against the fish’s scales as it turns against the current. The fish in the poem is moving to meet the current head on: likewise, the practitioner deliberately turns to face the attacking opponent while holding his ground.

The practitioner steps back with the left leg when he makes the first cut, but keeps the right leg in position, thus he does not retreat, but holds his ground, resisting the attack despite the step to the rear. He puts pressure on the opponent and refuses to be pushed back.

With the opponent’s attack repelled, the practitioner pushes forward and cuts them down – this perhaps could be seen as the carp ‘leaping the waterfall’ – something that is not stated in the poem, but is alluded to. Rather, the poem itself is concerned with the defensive resistance that leads up to and allows the practitioner to make this final cut.

As always, this a very basic attempt at translating and contextualising the tanka, done by a beginner in both the fields of iai and translation. I leave any deeper analysis to those more experienced and knowledgeable than myself. Comments and constructive criticisms are much appreciated.