Yuki no mura;
Niwatori naité;
Aké shiroshi.
“_Snow-village;—cocks crowing;—white dawn_.”
Let me conclude this gossip on poetry by citing from another group of
verses—also pictorial, in a certain sense, but chiefly remarkable for
ingenuity—two curiosities of impromptu. The first is old, and is
attributed to the famous poetess Chiyo. Having been challenged to make
a poem of seventeen syllables referring to a square, a triangle, and a
circle, she is said to have immediately responded,—
Kaya no té wo
Hitotsu hazushité,
Tsuki-mi kana!
—“_Detaching one corner of the mosquito-net, lo! I behold the moon!_”
The top of the mosquito-net, suspended by cords at each of its four
corners, represents the square;—letting down the net at one corner
converts the square into a triangle;—and the moon represents the
circle.
[Illustration: Square Triangle]
The other curiosity is a recent impromptu effort to portray, in one
verse of seventeen syllables, the last degree of
devil-may-care-poverty,—perhaps the brave misery of the wandering
student;—and I very much doubt whether the effort could be improved
upon:—
Nusundaru
Kagashi no kasa ni
Amé kyū nari.
—“_Heavily pours the rain on the hat that I stole from the scarecrow!_”