解説
この第114首は「伊都のをの／こり霊はらう／伊都魂を／光の中に／たける雄武び」として、まず上の句で――第一句末の〈をの〉と第二句頭の〈こ〉とにまたがって成立する「をのこ」、すなわち厳（いづ）の御魂を帯びた「伊都の男」が、自分にまとわりつくこり霊を祓い清める――という場面を描いています。この句境では、まず〈をの｜こ〉から「をのこ」〈男〉が現れ、その一拍後の〈の｜こり〉から「のこり」〈残り〉が重なり、さらに第二句頭には「こり」〈凝り〉が残ります。ここの「こり霊（こりたま）」は、肩こりのような身体の凝りを指すと同時に、この重ね掛詞によって、残心としてこびりついた嫌な感じ・わだかまりという「残りの霊」をも呼び出し、祓い（harai）／禊（misogi）の文脈で「残存する濁りを洗い流すこと」を意味する。その上で、「伊都魂（Itsu-tama）」――厳の御魂としての「ただしさ」の側面――を「光の中に」据え直し、最後に「たける雄武び」として、怒号ではない光に満たされた武の雄叫び＝清められた武の気合へと収束させる筋道が説明されています。
植芝盛平の六つのプライマーに糸戻しすると、この歌の動きがそのまま合気の骨組みをなぞっているのが見えてきます。プライマーの第一原理〈武＝宇宙原理〉の視点からは、「伊都魂を光の中に」とは、宇宙の秩序そのものとしての「厳の力」を闇ではなく光の側に立ち上げること。プライマーの第二原理〈神や人との合気〉にとって「こり霊を祓う」は、神や相手や場との関係のなかに残ったしこり・ねじれを、身体と心の両方からほどいていく合気的ハライになります。プライマーの第三原理〈心魂一如〉は、身体の凝りと心の澱を同時に祓うことで、姿勢（形）・声（雄叫び）・内側の意思（魂）が一線にそろう状態を支え、プライマーの第四原理〈和合美化〉は、その「たける雄武び」が破壊の吠え声ではなく、場を整えて美へ向かわせる「武の声」であるかを測る物差しになる。プライマーの第五原理〈体＝道場／心＝学び手〉の観点では、「こり霊はらう」が日々の稽古＝体をゆるめ、残心を洗い流しつづける修行として落ち、プライマーの第六原理〈「至愛」の源に順う〉に照らせば、「伊都の男」が振るう厳しさも、愛に裏打ちされた「正す力」として発動しているかどうかが問われているわけです。
直前の三首とのつながりを踏まえると、第114首の位置はさらにくっきりします。第111首は「天地の精魂凝りて十字道世界和楽のむすぶ浮橋」で、天地の精魂が凝り固まって生まれた十字道を、注が強調するように「一点の交差」ではなく、天地タテ軸×四方ヨコ軸という無限スパンのフィールド同士が交わり続ける「十字の場」として描きました。第112首は「いきいのち廻り栄ゆる世の仕組たまの合気は天の浮橋」で、そのフィールド全体を流れる「息いのち」の循環のなかで、「たまの合気」が天の浮橋として諸フィールドを織り上げると述べ、第113首は「一霊の元の御親御姿は響き光りてぞ生れし言霊」と、その無限フィールドで御親の御姿が響き・光ることで「言霊」が生まれると締めました。
第114首はその上で、この十字道という場の中に立つ「伊都の男」が、自分の内外に残ったこり霊を祓い、厳の魂を光のフィールドの内部に据え直し、その全場の震えとして「たける雄武び」を発する瞬間を描いていると読めます。ここで鳴る雄叫びは、点としてのセンターから搾り出す声ではなく、天地と世界のフィールド全体が整い、その無限の交差としてほとばしる合気の声である――「Knotted Spirit Purged Bright」という英題は、まさにその「こり霊なき武の叫び」を指しているのでしょう。
口語要約のひとこと
「伊都の男は、こり固まった残りの霊を祓い、伊都の魂を光の中におさめて、たける雄叫びをあげるんだ。」
語境をまたぐ伊都魂――重ね掛詞・中心配置・体言止め
本首でさらに注目すべきなのは、第一句と第二句の境そのものが意味を生み出している点です。流布する本文は「伊都のをのこり靈はらう……」と連続書きで伝わり、後代の分かち方にも異同があるため、作者自身の改行意図までは断定できません。しかし、ここで採った「伊都のをの／こり靈はらう」という五・七の配列に従えば、その句境から、まず「をの｜こ」＝をのこ〈男〉が句をまたいで姿を現し、その一拍後から「の｜こり」＝のこり〈残り〉が重なり、さらに第二句頭には「こり」＝凝りが残ります。これは単独の一語が二義を担うだけの掛詞ではなく、語の始点を一拍ずつずらしながら、「をのこ―のこり―こり」と意味を連鎖させる重ね掛詞、あるいは連鎖型掛詞として読むことができます。古典和歌では、五音句と七音句との境をまたいで一語を浮かび上がらせたり、複数の語脈を鎖のようにつないだりする構成が認められますが、本首ではそれが「伊都の男」と「残った凝り」とを同じ〈のこ〉の音から生み出しています。したがって、祓う主体である「をのこ」は、祓われる「のこり」の外側に初めから完成して立っているのではなく、その残滓と音を分かち合いながら、祓いの過程を通して初めて伊都の男となるわけです。
同じように、仮名で記された「はらう」も、もう一つの掛詞として働いています。一方には神事として穢れや災いを除く「祓ふ」があり、他方には、物を掃き、押しのけ、打ち退ける「払ふ」があります。両者は辞書上でも同語源の語とされ、その違いは表記と使用領域によって前景化されます。本首が漢字を定めず「はらう」と鳴らすことで、こり霊を儀礼的に祓い清める動きと、身体に固着したものを技として払い除ける動きとが、一つの発声のなかへ重ねられます。ここでは、技の「払い」が魂の「祓い」から切り離されず、身体をほどく運動そのものが祭祀的な清めとなるのです。
語構成の面では、「こり霊」と「伊都魂」とが、ともに〈修飾語＋たま〉という同じ型を取っていることも見逃せません。第二句の「こり＋たま」が、第三句では「伊都＋たま」へと置き換えられる。これは一つの魂を捨てて別の魂へ交換するというより、魂にまとわりついていた「こり」という状態を祓い、その同じ〈たま〉を「伊都」の相のもとに呼び直す変換です。さらに現存本文の表記面では、前者が「靈」、後者が「魂」と書き分けられながら、どちらも〈たま〉と読まれるため、ここには同訓異字による書記的な対句も成立しています。音は同一のまま、文字の姿だけが「残留する霊」から「伊都の魂」へ変わる。その変化は、祓いによって魂の実体が消滅するのではなく、その現れ方と働きが正されることを、文字の面でも示していると読めます。
「伊都」の反復もまた、第一句と第三句とを照応させます。第一句では「伊都のをの」として人物の名乗りを形成し、第三句では「伊都魂を」として、その人物が据え直すべき内的原理を名指します。外に見える者の名と、内に働く魂の名とが「伊都」によって呼応するため、「伊都の男であること」は既成の身分や属性ではなく、こり霊を祓い、伊都魂を光の中へ置き続ける行為によって成立するものとなります。第一句の伊都は主体の側にあり、第三句の伊都は対象の側にある。この折り返しによって、祓う者と祓われる魂との隔たりも消え、修行者自身が自らの伊都魂を整える自己回帰の構造が生まれています。
しかも、本首を提示された読みのまま数えると、五・七・五・七・七の三十一モーラに整い、その中央に第三句「伊都魂を」が置かれます。さらに厳密には、「伊都魂を」の〈た・ま〉のうち、第二拍の〈ま〉が三十一モーラ中の第十六モーラ、すなわち一首の正確な中心に当たります。続く第四句が「光の中に」と歌うことを考えれば、これは内容上「魂を光の中に据える」と述べるだけではなく、定型そのものの〈中〉に魂を据える配置の見立てになっています。伊都魂は比喩的に中心へ置かれるだけでなく、歌の時間と音数の中央へ実際に安置されているのです。
この中心配置を支えているのが、第三句末の格助詞「を」と第四句末の「に」です。「伊都魂を」は目的語を提示しながら述語を与えず、「光の中に」も場所または到達点を示しながら、何をするのかを言い切りません。二つの助詞が連続して意味を懸垂させるため、下の句は説明文として閉じることなく、伊都魂を光の内部へ運び入れる文法的な橋となっています。また、文語四段活用の「祓ふ」は終止形と連体形が同形であるため、第二句を「こり霊を祓う」と一度言い切る弱い二句切れとして聞くことも、「こり霊を祓う伊都魂を」と第三句へ連ねることもできます。したがって本首の句切れは一点に固定されず、上の句で祓いを完了させながら、同じ「祓ふ」を下の句へ働かせ続ける、二句切れと句切れなしとのあわいに置かれています。
結句の「たける雄武び」では、意味だけでなく音そのものが昂ぶります。仮名の「たける」には、勇ましく勢い立つ「猛る」と、大声で吠え響く「哮る」とが重なり、その直後の「おたけび」に再び〈たけ〉の音が現れます。すなわち「たける―おたけび」は、同じ語根的な音を畳みかける同根語反復であり、声を説明する以前に、〈たけ〉という音の反復によって雄叫びの立ち上がりを実演しています。そこへ「雄武び」という異例の表記が重なり、通常の「叫」の位置に「武」が顕れることで、耳に聞こえる雄叫びと、目に見える武の教義とが一つに結ばれます。
そして一首は、動詞で事態を説明し終えるのではなく、名詞「雄武び」で止まる明確な体言止めとなっています。もし「雄叫びを上ぐ」などと結べば、雄叫びはすでに完了した出来事になります。しかし「雄武び」だけを置いて終えることで、誰がどのように叫んだかを文法的には閉じず、声そのものを読み手の側へ残します。体言止めが生む余韻は、ここでは静かな消え際ではありません。光の中から発せられた声が歌の外へなお鳴り続ける、音響的な余韻です。発話行為の観点から言い換えれば、本首は雄叫びについて述べて終わるのではなく、結句を未完の声として差し出し、その発声を受け手の身体に続けさせるところまでを詩形の作用としているわけです。
語彙の配置には、二つの縁語群も認められます。一方には「霊―魂―祓ふ―光」という祭祀・清浄・神明の系列があり、他方には「をのこ―猛る／哮る―雄―武―叫び」という男性的勇力・武・発声の系列があります。厳密な古典歌語として固定された縁語の組合せというより、本首の内部で編み直された二重の縁語的連鎖と見るべきでしょう。この二系列は最後に「雄武び」で重なり、祓いと光という祭祀的な出来事が、武の声として外へ現れます。さらに、第三・四句の魂と光は視覚的に示され、第五句ではそれが声として聴覚化されるため、「光を見る」位相から「雄武びを聞く」位相への共感覚的な転位も起こっています。光は背景ではなく声へ変換され、雄叫びは音であると同時に、伊都魂の光が可聴化された姿となります。
なお、術語上の節度も必要です。本首には「ぞ・なむ・や・か・こそ」がないため係り結びは認めにくく、定型的な切れ字も前景化していません。「伊都」を地名的な歌枕とする根拠もなく、第一・二句を第三句「伊都魂」へ導く序詞的な働きは指摘できるものの、上二句は単なる導入ではなく、祓いという歌の中心行為そのものを担っているため、厳密な序詞と断定するのも適切ではありません。本首の切れと余韻を生み出しているのは、伝統的な切れ字ではなく、句境をまたぐ重ね掛詞、終止形と連体形の重なり、格助詞「を」「に」の懸垂、そして最後の体言止めです。こうして見ると、この歌の形式全体が、「凝った霊を切り捨てて終わる」のではなく、その音をほどき、伊都魂として中心へ据え、光から声へと開いていく一つの祓いになっているのです。
以上を踏まえると、既存注の「をのは、おのこ／をのこを指す」という説明は、**「をのこは第一句末の〈をの〉と第二句頭の〈こ〉とにまたがって成立する」**と改めるのが適切です。「をの」は第一句内で完結した「男」の異形ではなく、第二句頭の「こ」を待って初めて「をのこ」となる。この修正によって、同じ句境から「をのこ―のこり―こり」が一拍ずつずれて立ち現れる、本首でもっとも精巧な語境界の仕掛けが明瞭になります。
発話行為理論
さらにオースティン（Austin, 1962）の区別で見直すと、本首の発話行為（locutionary）は、単なる意味内容の伝達ではなく、掛詞と句の折り畳みのうちに仕組まれた「言い方」そのものに宿っている。とりわけ第一句と第二句の境では、〈をの｜こ〉＝「をのこ」、〈の｜こり〉＝「のこり」、第二句頭の「こり」＝凝りが、一拍ずつ始点をずらしながら一息に重なる。そのため、祓う主体である男、祓われる残滓、身体と心魂に固着した凝りとが、別々の説明語としてではなく、同一の音列から連続して立ち上がる。そのうえ第三句「伊都魂を」の「を」が意味を閉じず、下の句へ懸け渡すので、第一・二句は第四句「光の中に」へと折り畳まれ、第三句は第五句「たける雄武び」で初めて音声的な帰着点を得る。切れ字が前景化する歌というより、句切れの機能が懸垂された構文の内部へ沈み込んだ歌と見るのが自然である。
発話内行為（illocutionary）として見た場合、中心にあるのは叙景や説明ではなく、祓い・光・雄武びという順路を稽古の内側へ刻み込む教示的な力である。「伊都のをの」は人物紹介ではなく、どの位相の武に立つべきかを呼び出す名指しとなり、「伊都魂を」は厳の御魂をただ説明する語ではなく、その魂をいかに置き、いかに発するかを命じる懸垂として働く。したがって、結句の「たける雄武び」は怒号の放任ではなく、光の中に据えられた伊都魂が声となって現れる、その正統な出口として読まれる。
発話媒介行為（perlocutionary）として狙われているのは、残ったこりをほどき、武の感触を破壊の叫びから清められた気合へと組み替えることである。ただし、オースティンの区別に従えば、その効き目は語の内部に自動的に封じ込められているわけではなく、受容、反復、稽古、禊の文脈のなかで現実の作用になる。ゆえに本首の力は、読解の場で完結する種類のものではなく、声・姿勢・気配を少しずつ立て直し、武の発声そのものを光の側へ寄せていくところにある、と言えるだろう。
コーダ
この読みから浮かび上がるのは、祓う者が、祓われるものの外側には立てない、という構図である。「をのこ―のこり―こり」は、清める主体と清められる残滓とを別々の場所へ振り分けず、同じ音のうちから立ち上がらせる。「伊都の男」は、初めから清浄な者として現れ、外にある濁りを取り除くのではない。自らを名づける音そのものが、残り、凝るものと重なっている。その重なりを通らなければ、彼の名さえ成り立たないのである。したがって、ここで「伊都」を帯びることは、他者を正す資格を所有することではなく、自らもまた祓いと正し直しのうちにありつづけることとして読まれる。厳しさは、修行者自身を免除しない。
そして、祓いを通っても、〈たま〉という音は失われない。「こり靈」から「伊都魂」への移りは、魂を捨てて別の清い魂に取り替えることではなく、同じ魂の現れ方と働きとを呼び直す変化である。先行する第111首では、天地の精魂が「凝りて」十字道を結んでいた。その連なりから読むなら、本首の「こり」を祓うことは、形を成すことそのものを否定することではない。生まれた形が、そのまま閉塞となってしまわないこと。身体も、声も、武の力も失うことなく、それらがふたたび結び、応じ、働けるようになること。清めののちに残るのは、何も持たない空白ではなく、凝りに塞がれていた力の、新たな働き方なのである。
だからこそ、「光の中に」という一句が決定的になる。歌は「たける」を消してはいないし、雄武びを穏やかな説明へと薄めてもいない。厳の力は、なお激しく立ち上がる。ただし、その激しさが自分自身を正当化するのではない。雄武びに先立って、伊都魂はすでに光の内に置かれている。解説がこの順序を〈至愛の源に順う〉修行へ結びつけるとき、愛は、発してしまった力をあとから飾る美名ではなく、その力がどこから、何に順って発するのかを問う根拠となる。厳しさを失わないことと、厳しさを独りよがりにしないこと。その二つを同時に担うところに、この歌の武の難しさがある。
伊都魂が歌の中心に置かれることと、雄武びが歌の外へ開かれることとは、反対の動きではない。「伊都魂を」の「を」は魂を名づけたところで止まらず、「光の中に」の「に」も、その場所を指したところで意味を閉じない。中心に据えられたものは、中心へ囲い込まれるのではなく、そこから声となって関係のなかへ出てゆく。結句の「雄武び」は、その声を過去の出来事として説明し終えず、読み手がこれから発し、聴き、応じるものとして残す。光は声の背景であることをやめ、声を通して、ほかの身体にも届きうるものとなる。
もっとも、届くことと、清めることとは同じではない。大きな声が出たからといって、その声が光に満ちている証しにはならず、祓いの言葉を唱えたからといって、祓いが成就したことにもならない。解説の発話行為論が示すように、その作用は、受け取られ、繰り返され、稽古のなかで生きられることを待っている。したがって、この歌を身体へ返すなら、問われるのは発声の瞬間だけではない。その声のあとで、神や人や場との関係にどう応じるのか。姿勢、間合い、次の動きが、その声の向かった光を裏切らないか。雄武びは修行の完了を宣言する印ではなく、その後のふるまいまでを引き受ける声となる。
ここで、冒頭の「のこり」と結末の余韻とが、異なる残り方として向き合う。前者が魂を凝りへ引き留める残りであるなら、後者は、魂を次の息、次の応答へと開いてゆく響きである。この歌は、何も残さずに終わるのではない。何が、どのように残るのかを、祓いから雄武びへの移りのなかで問い直している。ほどかれた魂は、歌の外でふたたび生きられなければならない。その意味で、一首の最後に残される問いは、どれほど勇ましく叫べたか、ではない。
声がやんだあと、その次の一息も、なお光の中にあるか。
English Translation
Commentary
This 114th dōka, read as Itsu no o no / kori-tama harau / Itsu-tama o / hikari no naka ni / takeru otakebi (伊都のをの／こり霊はらう／伊都魂を／光の中に／たける雄武び), first depicts, in the upper phrase (kami-no-ku, 上の句), the following scene: the “man of Itsu,” Itsu no onoko (伊都のをのこ), bearing izu no mitama (厳の御魂), the august spirit of severe rectitude, purges and purifies the kori-tama (こり霊) clinging to him. Crucially, onoko (をのこ), “man,” is completed across the first–second-line boundary: o no (をの) stands at the end of the first line, while ko (こ) stands at the beginning of the second. Beginning one mora later, no | kori (の｜こり) produces nokori (のこり), “remainder,” while line-initial kori (こり), “stiffness” or “congealing,” remains simultaneously active. The poem thus unfolds the layered sequence onoko—nokori—kori (をのこ―のこり―こり). Within this chain, kori-tama calls forth bodily stiffness, like stiffness in the shoulders, together with a “remaining spirit,” nokori no tama (残りの霊)—an unpleasant after-feeling or unresolved obstruction that has adhered as zanshin (残心). Within the context of harai (祓い) and misogi (禊), it therefore means “to wash away the cloudiness that remains,” zanson suru nigori o arai-nagasu koto (残存する濁りを洗い流すこと). The poem then restores Itsu-tama (伊都魂)—the aspect of “rightness,” tadashisa (ただしさ), belonging to the august spirit of severity—to “the midst of light,” hikari no naka ni (光の中に), before gathering finally into takeru otakebi (たける雄武び): not a furious bellow, but a martial roar filled with light, a purified martial kiai (気合).
Threading the poem back through Ueshiba Morihei’s Six Primers reveals that its movement retraces the very structure of aiki (合気). From the standpoint of Primer One, “Bu = Cosmic Principle,” Bu = Uchū Genri (武＝宇宙原理), Itsu-tama o hikari no naka ni (伊都魂を光の中に) means bringing the “power of august severity,” izu no chikara (厳の力), as the order of the cosmos itself, to stand not on the side of darkness but on the side of light. For Primer Two, “Aiki with Kami / Another / Others,” Kami ya Hito to no Aiki (神や人との合気), “purging the knotted spirit,” kori-tama o harau (こり霊を祓う), becomes an aiki-like harai: an unwinding, through both body and heart-mind, of the knots and distortions left within one’s relation to kami, another, others, or to the field itself. Primer Three, “Heart-mind and Spirit, Inseparable,” Shinkon Ichinyo (心魂一如), is sustained by purifying bodily rigidity and the sediment of the heart-mind at the same time, so that posture—or form—voice—or martial cry—and inward intention—or spirit—come into alignment along a single line. Primer Four, “Harmonious Beautification,” Wagō Bika (和合美化), becomes the measure by which to determine whether takeru otakebi (たける雄武び) is a destructive howl or a “voice of bu” that sets the field in order and turns it toward beauty. From the perspective of Primer Five, “Body = Dōjō / Heart-mind = Practitioner / Ascetic / Learner,” Karada/Tai = Dōjō / Kokoro = Shugyōsha / Shugyōsha / Manabite (体＝道場／心＝修業者／修行者／学び手), “purging the knotted spirit” descends into daily training: a discipline of loosening the body and continually washing away what remains. Under Primer Six, “Accord with the Source of Supreme Love,” Shiai no Minamoto ni Shitagau (「至愛」の源に順う), the question becomes whether the severity wielded by the “man of Itsu” is truly activated as a “power that rectifies,” tadasu chikara (正す力), grounded in love.
Seen in relation to the three immediately preceding verses, the position of Dōka 114 becomes sharper still. Dōka 111, ame-tsuchi no / seikon korite / jūji-michi / sekai waraku no / musubu ukihashi (天地の精魂凝りて十字道世界和楽のむすぶ浮橋), described the cross-way born from the congealing of the vital spirit of heaven and earth. As the note emphasized, this is not “a single point of intersection,” itten no kōsa (一点の交差), but a continuing intersection of fields of infinite span: the vertical axis of heaven-and-earth multiplied by the horizontal axis of the four directions, tenchi tate-jiku × shihō yoko-jiku (天地タテ軸×四方ヨコ軸). It is a “field of the cross,” jūji no ba (十字の場). Dōka 112, iki-inochi / meguri sakayuru / yo no shikumi / tama no aiki wa / ame no ukihashi (いきいのち廻り栄ゆる世の仕組たまの合気は天の浮橋), then declared that within the circulation of “breath-life,” iki-inochi (息いのち), flowing through that entire field, “the aiki of tama,” tama no aiki (たまの合気), weaves the various fields together as Heaven’s Floating Bridge. Dōka 113, ichirei no / moto no mioya / misugata wa / hibiki hikarite zo / umareshi kotodama (一霊の元の御親御姿は響き光りてぞ生れし言霊), concluded that within this infinite field the august form of the Original Parent resounds and shines, and that from this resonance and light kotodama (言霊) is born.
Dōka 114 may then be read as depicting the instant when the “man of Itsu,” standing within this field of the cross-way, purges the kori-tama remaining within and around him, restores the soul of august severity to the interior of the field of light, and releases takeru otakebi (たける雄武び) as the vibration of the entire field. The cry sounding here is not a voice squeezed from a center conceived as a single point. Heaven, earth, and the whole world-field have been set in order, and the voice bursts forth as their infinite intersection: the voice of aiki. The English title “Knotted Spirit Purged Bright” points precisely to this “martial cry without knotted spirit,” kori-tama naki bu no sakebi (こり霊なき武の叫び).
A one-sentence colloquial summary
“The man of Itsu purges the congealed remnant spirit, settles the Itsu-spirit within the light, and lets loose a surging martial cry.”
The Itsu-spirit across word boundaries: Layered pivot words, central placement, and nominal closure
What deserves further attention in this verse is that the boundary between its first and second lines produces meaning in its own right. The received text is transmitted continuously as Itsu no o nokori-tama harau… (伊都のをのこり靈はらう……), and later divisions of the text differ, so the author’s own intention regarding line breaks cannot be established with certainty. Nevertheless, under the 5–7 arrangement adopted here—Itsu no o no / kori-tama harau (伊都のをの／こり靈はらう)—the boundary first causes onoko (をのこ), “man,” to appear across o no | ko (をの｜こ). Beginning one mora later, nokori (のこり), “remainder,” emerges across no | kori (の｜こり), while kori (こり), “stiffness” or “congealing,” remains at the head of the second line.
This is not merely a pivot word in which one isolated expression bears two meanings. By shifting the starting point one mora at a time, the poem forms a semantic chain: onoko—nokori—kori (をのこ―のこり―こり). It may therefore be read as a layered pivot word, kasane-kakekotoba (重ね掛詞), or as a chain-form pivot, rensagata kakekotoba (連鎖型掛詞). Classical waka permits constructions in which a word emerges across the boundary between a five-mora and a seven-mora line, or in which several verbal currents are linked like the successive links of a chain. Here, the same sound-sequence noko (のこ) generates both the “man of Itsu” and the “remaining stiffness.” The purifying subject, onoko (をのこ), therefore does not stand from the beginning as something already complete and wholly outside the nokori (のこり) to be purified. He shares its sound with the residue and becomes the man of Itsu only through the process of purification.
In the same way, the kana-written harau (はらう) functions as a second pivot. On one side stands harau (祓ふ), the ritual removal of defilement or calamity; on the other stands harau (払ふ), to sweep, push aside, ward off, or strike away. Dictionaries treat the two as deriving from the same verbal root, while their difference is brought forward through orthography and domain of use. By sounding the word simply as harau (はらう), without fixing it to one graph, the poem overlays the ritual purification of the kori-tama with the bodily and technical action of sweeping away what has adhered. The technical “sweep” is not severed from the soul’s “purification.” The bodily movement of loosening what has congealed becomes, in itself, an act of ritual cleansing.
At the level of word formation, it is also significant that kori-tama (こり霊) and Itsu-tama (伊都魂) share the same structure: modifier plus tama. The second line’s kori + tama (こり＋たま) is replaced in the third line by Itsu + tama (伊都＋たま). This is less an exchange in which one spirit is discarded and another substituted than a transformation in which the condition called kori is purged from the soul, allowing that same tama to be called forth anew under the aspect of Itsu.
In the orthography of the extant text, moreover, the former is written tama (靈) and the latter tama (魂), although both are read alike. An orthographic parallelism of different graphs bearing the same reading is thereby established. The sound remains unchanged while the written figure alone shifts from a residual spirit to the spirit of Itsu. At the level of writing as well as meaning, the change suggests that purification does not annihilate the substance of the spirit; it rectifies the way that spirit appears and works.
The repetition of Itsu (伊都) likewise establishes a correspondence between the first and third lines. In the first line, Itsu no o no (伊都のをの) forms the naming of a person. In the third, Itsu-tama o (伊都魂を) names the inward principle that this person must restore to its proper place. Because the outwardly visible person and the inwardly active spirit answer to one another through the same name, Itsu, “being the man of Itsu” is no pre-given status or attribute. It is brought into being through the continuing act of purging the knotted spirit and placing the Itsu-spirit within the light.
In the first line, Itsu stands on the side of the subject; in the third, it stands on the side of the object. Through this fold-back, the distance between the one who purifies and the spirit being purified disappears, producing a self-returning structure in which the practitioner restores his own Itsu-spirit.
Counted according to the reading presented here, the verse forms an exact 5–7–5–7–7 pattern of thirty-one morae, with the third line, Itsu-tama o (伊都魂を), placed at its center. More precisely still, within Itsu-tama o, the second mora of tama (たま)—ma (ま)—is the sixteenth mora of the thirty-one, the exact midpoint of the poem. Given that the next line sings hikari no naka ni (光の中に), “within the light,” this is more than a statement that the spirit is placed within light. It becomes a mitate (見立て), a poetic configuration in which the spirit is placed within the very “middle,” naka (中), of the fixed form itself. The Itsu-spirit is not merely imagined metaphorically at the center; it is actually enshrined at the temporal and sonic midpoint of the poem.
This central placement is sustained by the case particle o (を) at the end of the third line and ni (に) at the end of the fourth. Itsu-tama o (伊都魂を) presents an object without giving it a predicate. Hikari no naka ni (光の中に) indicates a place or destination without declaring what is to be done there. Because these two particles suspend semantic completion in succession, the lower phrase (shimo-no-ku, 下の句) does not close as an explanatory sentence. Instead, it becomes a grammatical bridge carrying the Itsu-spirit into the interior of light.
Moreover, because the terminal and attributive forms of the classical quadrigrade verb harau (祓ふ) are identical, the second line can be heard once as the weakly completed statement kori-tama o harau (こり霊を祓う), “he purges the knotted spirit,” producing a faint cut after the second line. Yet it can also be carried forward into kori-tama o harau Itsu-tama o (こり霊を祓う伊都魂を), allowing “the Itsu-spirit that purges the knotted spirit” to extend toward the next line. The poem’s cut is therefore not fixed at a single point. It inhabits the interval between a second-line cut and no cut at all: completing the purification within the upper phrase while allowing the same verb to continue working into the lower phrase.
In the closing line, takeru otakebi (たける雄武び), not only the meaning but the sound itself rises. The kana takeru (たける) permits both takeru (猛る), to surge fiercely or rise in valor, and takeru (哮る), to roar or resound in a great voice. Immediately afterward, the sound take (たけ) appears once more within otakebi (おたけび). Thus takeru—otakebi (たける―おたけび) is a same-root repetition that does not merely explain the martial cry. Through the accumulating repetition of the sound take, it performs the very rising of that cry.
This is joined by the exceptional spelling otakebi (雄武び). In the place normally occupied by the graph sakebu (叫), the graph bu (武) appears. The martial cry heard by the ear and the doctrine of bu visible to the eye are thereby bound into one expression.
The poem then stops not with a verb explaining the completion of an event, but with the noun otakebi (雄武び), forming a clear nominal ending, or taigendome (体言止め). Had it concluded with a phrase such as otakebi o agu (雄叫びを上ぐ), “to raise a martial cry,” the cry would become an event already completed. By ending with otakebi alone, however, the poem does not grammatically close the questions of who cried or how the cry was uttered. It leaves the voice itself on the side of the reader.
The resonance, or yoin (余韻), produced by this nominal ending is not a quiet dying-away. It is an acoustic resonance in which the voice released from within the light continues sounding beyond the poem. In terms of speech acts (see Speech Act Theory analysis below), the verse does not end by making a statement about a martial cry. It offers its closing line as an unfinished voice and makes the act of voicing continue within the body of the recipient.
Two associative word-fields, or engo (縁語), may also be recognized in the poem’s vocabulary. On one side lies the ritual and purificatory sequence “spirit—soul—purification—light,” tama—tama—harau—hikari (霊―魂―祓ふ―光). On the other lies the sequence of masculine vigor, martiality, and vocal release: onoko—takeru / takeru—o—bu—sakebi (をのこ―猛る／哮る―雄―武―叫び). These should not be treated as fixed combinations belonging to the conventional lexicon of classical poetry in the strictest sense. They are better understood as two interwoven associative chains reconstructed within this particular verse.
The two chains overlap at last in otakebi (雄武び), where the ritual event of purification and light appears outwardly as the voice of bu. The soul and light of the third and fourth lines are presented visually; in the fifth, they become audible as voice. A synaesthetic transposition therefore occurs from the phase of seeing light to the phase of hearing the martial cry. Light is not merely the background of the sound. It is converted into voice, while the martial cry becomes the audible form taken by the radiance of the Itsu-spirit.
Terminological restraint is nevertheless necessary. Because the poem contains none of the binding particles zo, namu, ya, ka, or koso (ぞ・なむ・や・か・こそ), it is difficult to identify any kakarimusubi (係り結び). Nor is a conventional cutting word, or kireji (切れ字), foregrounded. There is likewise no basis for treating Itsu as a place-name utamakura (歌枕). The first and second lines may be said to perform something resembling a joshi (序詞), leading toward the third line’s Itsu-tama (伊都魂); yet those two lines are not merely prefatory. They contain the poem’s central act of purification itself, so it would be misleading to define them categorically as a formal joshi.
The poem’s cuts and resonance are produced not by a conventional kireji, but by layered pivot words crossing the line boundary, the overlap of terminal and attributive verbal forms, the suspended particles o (を) and ni (に), and the final taigendome. Seen in this light, the entire form of the poem becomes a single act of harai. It does not simply cut away the congealed spirit and end. It loosens that spirit’s sound, restores it to the center as the Itsu-spirit, and opens it outward from light into voice.
Speech Act Theory
Reconsidered through Austin’s (1962) distinctions, the locutionary act of this verse resides not merely in the communication of semantic content but in the very “way of saying” structured through its pivot words and the folding of its lines. At the boundary between the first and second lines, o no | ko (をの｜こ) yields onoko (をのこ), “man”; beginning one mora later, no | kori (の｜こり) yields nokori (のこり), “remainder”; and the same line-initial kori (こり) remains audible as “stiffness” or “congealing.” The purifying subject, the residue to be purified, and the bodily or spiritual knot therefore arise in a single breath from overlapping portions of the same sound-sequence. The particle o (を) in the third line, Itsu-tama o (伊都魂を), then refuses semantic closure and carries the utterance into the lower phrase. Lines one and two are consequently folded toward the fourth line, hikari no naka ni (光の中に), while the third line gains its first fully sonic point of arrival in the fifth, takeru otakebi (たける雄武び). Rather than a poem in which a cutting word is foregrounded, this is more naturally understood as one in which the function of the cut has sunk into the interior of a suspended syntax.
As an illocutionary act, what stands at the poem’s center is neither scenic description nor explanation, but an instructional force that inscribes the route of purification, light, and martial cry into the interior of practice. Itsu no o no (伊都のをの) is not merely the introduction of a character. It is an act of naming that calls forth the mode of bu in which one ought to stand. Likewise, Itsu-tama o (伊都魂を) does not simply explain the august spirit of severity. It functions as a suspended injunction concerning how that spirit is to be placed and how it is to be voiced. The final takeru otakebi (たける雄武び) is therefore not a license to abandon oneself to a furious bellow. It is the proper outlet through which the Itsu-spirit, once settled within the light, appears as voice.
The perlocutionary act aimed at by the verse is the loosening of whatever knot remains and the reconfiguration of the felt texture of bu from a destructive howl into a purified kiai. Under Austin’s distinction, however, this effect is not automatically sealed inside the words themselves. It becomes an actual force only within the contexts of reception, repetition, training, and misogi. The power of the verse is therefore not of a kind completed within the act of interpretation. It works by gradually restoring voice, posture, and presence, drawing the martial utterance itself toward the side of light.
Coda
What emerges from this reading is a structure in which the one who purifies cannot stand outside what undergoes purification. The layered onoko—nokori—kori (をのこ―のこり―こり) does not assign the purifying subject and the residue to separate places; it brings them forth from the same sound. The man of Itsu does not appear as someone already pure who removes a cloudiness situated elsewhere. The very sounds that name him overlap with what remains and congeals. Without passing through that overlap, even his name cannot come into being. To bear the name Itsu is therefore not to possess a credential authorizing the correction of others. It is to remain within purification and correction oneself. Severity does not exempt the practitioner who embodies it.
And through purification, the sound tama (たま) is not lost. The passage from kori-tama (こり靈) to Itsu-tama (伊都魂) is not an exchange in which one spirit is discarded and another, purer spirit substituted. It is a change through which the same spirit’s manner of appearing and acting is called forth anew. In the preceding Dōka 111, the vital spirit of heaven and earth had gathered and congealed—korite (凝りて)—to form the cross-way. Read within that sequence, the purification of kori here cannot simply negate the taking of form itself. What has come into form must not become an enclosure that prevents further life. Body, voice, and martial power need not disappear; they must become capable of joining, responding, and acting again. What remains after cleansing is not an emptiness possessing nothing, but a renewed way of working for the power that the knot had obstructed.
This is why hikari no naka ni (光の中に), “within the light,” becomes decisive. The poem does not erase takeru (たける), its fierce surging, nor does it dilute the martial cry into a gentle explanation. The power of august severity still rises fiercely. Yet that fierceness does not justify itself. Before the martial cry, the Itsu-spirit has already been placed within the light. When the commentary connects this order to a discipline of according with the source of Supreme Love, love is not an honorable name applied afterward to decorate a force already unleashed. It becomes the ground for asking where that force arises and what it accords with. Not to lose severity, and not to let severity become self-authorizing: the difficulty of this poem’s bu lies in bearing both demands at once.
That the Itsu-spirit is placed at the poem’s center and the martial cry opens beyond the poem are not contrary movements. The particle o (を) in Itsu-tama o (伊都魂を) does not stop at naming the spirit, and the ni (に) in hikari no naka ni (光の中に) does not close the meaning merely by indicating its place. What is settled at the center is not imprisoned there. From that center, it goes forth as voice into relationship. The final otakebi (雄武び) does not finish explaining the voice as an event belonging to the past. It leaves the voice as something the reader may yet utter, hear, and answer. Light ceases to be merely the background of the sound; through the voice, it becomes something that can reach another body.
Yet reaching another and purifying are not the same thing. A loud voice does not establish that the voice is filled with light, any more than speaking the words of purification establishes that purification has been accomplished. As the commentary’s speech-act analysis makes clear, the effect awaits reception, repetition, and a life within practice. To return this poem to the body is therefore to ask about more than the instant of vocal release. After that voice, how does one respond within one’s relations with kami, with people, and with the field? Do posture, distance, and the next movement remain faithful to the light toward which the voice was directed? The martial cry is not a seal declaring training complete. It becomes a voice that accepts responsibility for the conduct that follows.
Here, the opening nokori (のこり), “what remains,” and the ending’s yoin (余韻), its continuing resonance, face one another as different ways of remaining. Where the former holds the spirit within its knot, the latter opens the spirit toward the next breath and the next response. The poem does not end by leaving nothing behind. In its movement from purification to martial cry, it asks again what remains, and how. The spirit whose knot has been loosened must be lived anew beyond the poem. In this sense, the question left at the end is not how valiantly one managed to cry out.
When the cry has ceased, is the next breath still within the light?
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Appendix I: Change Modification Log
06 SEP 26 - Added application of Primer 2's inclusion of kami; added missed codas.21 AUG 26 - Added additional poetics analysis and English translation; clarified that をのこ spans the first–second-line boundary as をの｜こ; revised the historical-form text, romanization, lexical notes, commentary, and Speech Act Theory analysis to preserve the layered をのこ―のこり―こり pivot.17 AUG 26 - Improved formatting.22 MAY 26 - Added Speech Act Analysis; updated citation style.19 APR 26 - Added のこり/ 残り parse notes.07 APR 26 - Corrected references order.21 DEC 25 - Applied Phase V styling to waka.15 DEC 25 - Update quotes to Japanese and added links to commentary.17 NOV 25 - Phase IV completion; commentary added.15 OCT 25 - Phase III completion.30 SEP 25 - Initial Phase III start.14 APR 20 - Initial notes transferred.