Some of the world's most beautiful poems were sung in Japan well before the introduction of writing to record them. The writing came from China some 1,200 years ago, the songs are an even older oral tradition that was not recorded in words and preserved until the 8th century. The poems demonstrate the feelings of the Japanese people before they were influenced by other cultures. In these songs, the permeating idea of sadness, pathos and resignation seem not yet to be known.

I wrote several years ago about "Songs They Sang in Ancient Japan," compiled/translated by Noah S. Brannen and William I. Elliot published by Heine, 1-38-12 Takamatsu, Nerima-ku Tokyo, ISBN4-938821-01-XC1093, 7,200 yen. Occasionally I pick it up and read a bit.

There was good humor: "The great fish will never seem so great, great fisherman, as when your harpoon misses and she swims away." Or, "My lord stands in front of the house wearing layer and layer of clothing -- and tries to fasten his leggings." And love? "Since you never came, I had no need to hang the curtains -- that a much better image, I think, than all the patient maidens waiting sadly by their lanterns for the cock to crow, symbolizing another hopeless night of waiting." Or, "Don't bring in his sleeping robe! I hate him! Let it get wet in the rain. Don't bring it in! He won't come. Oh, I hate him." Surely that was no endlessly waiting court lady. Generally, love was to be enjoyed: "No matter what they say, we are meant for each other. My parents object to my nighttime escapades, but I have decided who my wife will be." Or this -- "Go with the current as the boat enters Ina River where the streams converge. Don't capsize the boat! Don't! My young wife's on board -- and so am I."