村雨の

露もまだ干ぬ

真木の葉に

霧立ちのぼる

秋の夕暮

じゃくれんほうし

むらさめの

つゆもまだひぬ

まきのはに

きりたちのぼる

あきのゆうぐれ

The Monk Jakuren

The passing shower’s

Raindrops are still drying

On the yew plum pines

When yet the mist starts rising

On this autumn evening.

Jakuren Hoshi (1139 - 1202), with personal name Fujiwara no Sadanaga, was the son of Ajari Shunkai, brother of Shunzei (poem 83). He was adopted by Shunzei. With Teika (poem 97) and Ietaka (poem 98) he frequented the Mikohidari salon of poetry. He contributed as an editor to the Shin Kokinshu. He has 116 poems in imperial collections.

Hokusai

Jakuren with page, by Kuniyoshi

It looks like Hokusai shows us the arrival in the rain of a important official train with the retinue engaged in unpacking and preparing for more duties in the rain. The men have covered the horse and are putting on their own raincoats and hats.

The problem with the expression ‘rising mist’ is that we can either see it as a lifting or slow disappearance of the mist, or on the contrary as a rising and increasing level of the mist. In this case I opt for the latter.

Maki, yew plum pine, podocarpus macrophyllus