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 ninth technique, Takiotoshi.
This is the final tanka translation in this series. I hope to follow it up with a short article looking at the poems as a group, the similarities between them, and how they relate to each other.
Kyuhon-me: Takiotoshi
Takiotoshi is the ninth technique in Hasegawa Eishin-ryū, and the last of the tatehiza techniques in the set as taught in Musō Jikiden Eishin-ryū and Musō Shinden-ryū. It is one of the more complex of the nine waza.
Takiotoshi (瀧落 or 滝落) translates approximately as “a cascading waterfall.” As a simile it is used to describe rain falling heavily in sheets, like a waterfall. The same word can also be used to mean swimming down a waterfall, although I don’t believe this is relevant to how the word is used in Eishin-ryū.
In the tanka below, a description of a rushing waterfall and its rapids being unhindered by rocks is used as a metaphor for the motion and feeling of the practitioner.
Below is the waza Takiotoshi as it appears in Musō Shinden-ryū:
Once more, I will introduce a version of the waza for both Eishin-ryū and Shinden-ryū. Again, my description of the Shinden waza comes from the Japanese edition of Musō Shinden-ryū Iaidō by Yamatsuta Shigeyoshi (Airyūdō, 2002).
Muso Jikiden Eishin-ryu:
The practitioner is sat with his back to the opponent. The opponent takes hold of the practitoner’s saya at the kojiri. The practitioner stands and pulls the kojiri of his saya back and up, before returning it swiftly in the opposite direction while stepping forward with his left foot and bringing the koiguchi to chest height. This breaks the grip of the opponent and throws him off balance. The practitioner steps through with his right foot and draws his sword while opening the body and looking at the opponent. The sword is drawn and held at hip height with the blade horizontal. The practitioner turns to face the opponent, thrusting the sword forward and stabbing him in the chest. This is followed by a step in and a drop to a kneeling position while delivering a kirioroshi.
Note that the exact method of making the opponent let go of the saya differs depending on whether the opponent grabs it with his left hand, right hand or with both hands.
Muso Shinden-ryu:
The practitioner is sat with his back to the opponent. The opponent, seated behind, takes hold of the saya’s kojiri. The practitioner stands and the opponent does so too. The practitioner turns to face the left before sharply turning back and taking a short step through. Without placing his left foot on the floor, he brings the tsuka to his chest and breaks the opponent’s grip. Planting his left foot, he takes a short step forwards with his right and turns, drawing the sword at chest height and holding it at that height with the blade pointed upwards. The practitioner stabs the opponent with the sword in this position before raising the sword into jodan, stepping through and making a kirioroshi while standing. After this the practitioner drops to one knee to perform chiburui and nōtō.
Between the two schools, the technical details of the waza are slightly different, but fundamentally the technique remains the same in terms of feeling and application.
瀧落
たきつ瀬の崩るる如く流るれば
水とあらそふ岩もなきかな
Takiotoshi
Taki tsu se no
Kuzururu gotoku
Nagarureba
Mizu to arasou
Iwa mo naki ka na
As the waterfall
Flows like an avalanche
Its rapids seethe fiercely
In a powerful torrent
With which no rock can contend
First, a few notes on the language used in the poem.
The title of the poem clearly describes a waterfall flowing downwards. However the first line, taki tsu se no is worth exploring in a little more depth. This epithet is traditionally used in Japanese poetry to indicate speed. It can be be read as simply indicating a waterfall: however the meaning is deeper than this. It can be written as 瀧つ瀬 in kanji, in which case the direct translation would be “the waterfall’s (瀧つ) rapids (瀬).” But if we look at the root of the phrase, we find that originally the taki tsu part did not strictly mean “of the waterfall” (瀧つ), but comes from the verb tagitsu (滾つ or 激つ), meaning “violent” or “seething.” The word taki for “waterfall” comes from this root. In modern Japanese taki usually refers to water falling from the top of a cliff; however, in old Japanese it can also mean simply a fast, powerful flow.
Yōrō Waterfall, by Hokusai
In the Heian period and earlier, taki was used to refer to the rapids at the base of a waterfall rather than the waterfall itself, which was instead called tarumi (垂水). However, following the Heian period taki came to refer to the waterfall as a whole. As Eishin-ryū was founded in the Edo period, its tanka were almost certainly written after this shift occurred. Despite this, I believe it is important to think of the waterfall in the poem not just as falling from high to low, but as rushing down a surface and forming fast-flowing rapids.
The word kuzururu (崩るる) is an old form of the modern Japanese kuzureru, meaning “to break apart” or “to collapse.” Because this is usually used to refer to solid objects like rocks and buildings falling apart, I have translated it as “avalanche.” It seems to describe the waterfall tumbling down from a high point. It may be useful to note that this is an intransitive form of kuzusu. Practitioners of kendo, judo and other budo should be familiar with this word in its noun form kuzushi, meaning to break your opponent’s physical or mental posture and throw him into disarray. If we relate kuzururu to the waza Takiotoshi, it could be describing in particular the initial movement used to break the opponent’s grip on the saya. Although we might be inclined to take this to mean that the opponent is the one being broken apart, I would prefer to relate it to the practitioner and draw attention to the word gotoku (如く) meaning “like” or “as if.” The practitioner is not breaking posture and his mental calmness is not being disrupted, but the sharpness, suddenness and necessary size of the movement may give that impression.
The word “flow” (nagaru, 流る) means a flow of water, such as in a river, from high to low. It clearly implies smooth, fluid movement, which is key to this technique.
With the practitioner described in terms of the waterfall, the closing lines of the poem appear to introduce the opponent. Once again, the opponent takes the form of an inanimate rock standing in the path of the dynamic, flowing practitioner. The line states that no rock can stand against water, when water flows in the way described in the opening lines. The term arasou (争う) is used in modern Japanese to mean “compete with,” but it can also mean to struggle against or resist an opposing force. This could be taken to mean that the waterfall wears down the rock over time, but it seems more likely that it is describing the powerful torrent rushing around a rock standing in its way, without the flow being blocked.
Mibu no Tadamine
A brief look at some other poems featuring waterfalls may clarify and elaborate on some of the imagery in the Eishin-ryū tanka.
The following is a love poem by the early Heian poet Mibu no Tadamine (late 9th century-early 10th century). Because of the era this tanka was written in, the term tagitsu here refers to fast-flowing rapids, not a cascading waterfall. However it is a classic example of the image of fast-flowing water in Japanese poetry. It conveys turbulence and rushing speed.
たぎつ瀬に根ざしとどめぬ浮草の
浮きたる恋も我はするかな
Tagitsu se ni
Nezashi todomenu
Ukikusa no
Ukitaru koi mo
Ware wa suru ka na
Like a floating weed in the fast-flowing rapids
That cannot put down roots
I let myself be swept along by this turbulent love
Here the poet is being helplessly swept along by his feelings, like a plant in rushing rapids. In the Eishin-ryū tanka however, the opponent is depicted as something far more static: a rock. Rather than sweeping the opponent this way and that, it seems more likely that the conveyed image is of the practitioner ‘flowing’ around him.
The following poem is famous as part of the Hyakunin Isshu poetry anthology (77), and was also collected in the Shika Wakashū (229). It was written by the retired Emperor Sutoku (1119-1164). This poem formed part of early rakugo, a kind of comic storytelling.
瀬をはやみ岩にせかるる滝川の
われても末に 逢わむとぞ思ふ
Se o hayami
Iwa ni sekaruru
Takigawa no
Waretemo sue ni
Awan to zo omou
The rushing rapids are divided by a rock
But further down the waterfall
I know the river will unite again
The poem describes the passion of two lovers in terms of the rushing rapids of the waterfall. Although they are parted, the intensity of their love means that they are sure to be united again in the future.
Nunobiki Waterfall, by Hiroshige
In the Eishin-ryū tanka, one might at first be tempted to interpret the “waterfall” as the practitioner stepping in and dropping to his knee when delivering kirioroshi. In the case of Shinden-ryū, one might think of the sword thrust as being the fall (and this might carry a little more weight). However I believe these are quite limited interpretations. Rather, I would look at the waza as a whole, including the initial breaking of the opponent’s grip, gaining distance, drawing the sword and delivering the thrust. This entire motion, although it is essentially linear and not vertical, may be described in terms of the flowing, seething and tumbling waters of a waterfall. It is fast and powerful, but also very fluid, relaxed and smooth. The practitioner moves unhindered from the opponent’s initial attempt to hold him back (grabbing the saya), flows quickly and smoothly (gaining distance with taisabaki and drawing his weapon) and rushes onwards to strike the opponent directly (the stab). Even following the thrust, the practitioner continues to move forward prior to the final kirioroshi. The feeling of an unhindered, continuous flow is communicated in the image of the waterfall flowing – not just falling through space, but rushing down a rocky surface in a seething torrent.
Please bear in mind that I am a beginner in the fields of both iai and translation, and that this basic look at the tanka may contain errors. As always, I leave it to those more experienced and knowledgeable than myself to find the deeper meaning in the poem.
Any comments and constructive criticisms are very welcome.
Richard, if you ever were to put these all together into a book(let), I would buy it for me and my students. This series has been the best, in my opinion, so far on kenshi247. We just need more people to rise to the challenge to try to outdo it.
Richard, thanks again for another great installment. The image evoked by this tanka for takiotoshi may be a bit more apt in our line of Musoshinden-ryu, where the initial thrust is actually performed with the hand held high, stabbing from above and while standing on one foot. But as your other installments have shown, it’s probably better to think of it in terms of the spirit of the waza rather than a physical desciption.
@Kent – that’s very flattering, but as I say in the article, I’m just a beginner making a rough stab at translating the poems. The poems themselves have long been available to anyone who speaks Japanese: all I did was provide an English translation along some background information on poetic imagery.
@Paul – I have heard that the one-legged stab is closer to how it’s done in Jushin-ryu, which may or may not be significant. Regardless of whether the poem describes the strike or the body movement leading up to it – or as I suspect, both – I think the imagery gives a good sense of the feeling required (fluid and fast, flowing freely but striking powerfully).
As I wrote above, I hope to follow up this article with one more considering some loose ends and looking at how the poems relate to one another. It might take me a while to finish though!
[...] Richard Stonell пишет: The word kuzururu (崩るる) is an old form of the modern Japanese kuzureru, meaning “to break apart” or “to collapse.” Because this is usually used to refer to solid objects like rocks and buildings falling apart, I have translated it as “ avalanche. … This could be taken to mean that the waterfall wears down the rock over time, but it seems more likely that it is describing the powerful torrent rushing around a rock standing in its way, without the flow being blocked. … [...]
What a wonderful series of posts! Thank you for these wonderful flickers of insight.
When I was in Tohoku, I climbed a mountain called 崩山 (Kuzureyama). The piece called the 崩れ (kuzure) was indeed a sort of avalanche, precariously stopped, of ochre yellow earth and stones. After reading your post, I think of the action of drawing the opponent forwards while he is holding the tip of the saya as pulling out a stone at the bottom of the pile to cause such an avalanche.
Incidentally (I may be completely wrong), I was wondering whether the grammar of the poem is not like a sort of moment of realisation, in the form of asking oneself a question?
Sort of like:
‘If one sweeps away like the avalanche of a waterfall,
would not even a crag competing with the water be lost?’
The ‘ka na’ feels a bit like ‘the fact that I realise I should ask myself this question has a high emotional impact.’ I realise the ‘be lost’ in the last sentence is a bit doubtful, but I couldn’t think of a better way without using double negatives. I’m not very good at Japanese, so I may be completely wrong.
Richard
Wonderful as usual. I second Kent’s proposal, I would also insist everyone bought this if you published it. Along with the understanding of the 3 levels of Zanshin, this would be a massive influence on how people perform iai. The work you are doing is an absolute asset to iai training.
Thank you