Japanese Poetry Is All About Hair

So just before Christmas I bought a book of Japanese love poems. I had this idea of using them to decorate a picture frame for my boyfriend. Unfortunately, I got the idea, like, two days before Christmas and so nothing ever came of it; my boyfriend had to settle for an unadorned picture frame. Lately though I've been reading through it. I really like the simplicity. I love the way small details express huge thoughts. I also love the way they're always talking about their crazy messy hair.

I have masses of hair that's a little bit wavy and cannot be controlled. My hair is in the middle of a guerrilla war against me. I'm not sure why as I've always been really nice to my hair. I think it's still mad that I let my friend Brittany cut it when I was four. Or there was the time that I got a bad cut and it was kind of a mullet while I was growing it out; I'm still upset about that one. Anyway, whatever the reason, I am constantly battling to keep my hair in place. You know those hair bands that have the rubber snaking around it? My hair is cunning enough to sneak out of that in like, ten minutes. So I like this poem because I identify completely:

Will he always love me?
I cannot read his heart.
This morning my thoughts
Are as disordered
As my black hair.
-Lady Horikawa

That is a disordered mind. If my thoughts were as disordered as my hair I'd be wearing, like, a shoe on my ear. Or something really stupid, like a toe ring. These next two were written by a husband and wife. I like that he remembers her uncontrollable hair fondly instead of complaining that it always gets in his mouth when they're making out. Or that he has to sweep his bathroom floor three times a week.

Bound up it always
Came undone.
Unbound it was so long.
Now that I have not
Been with you for days
Is your hair all done up?
-Mikata Shami

Everybody tells me
My hair is too long
I leave it
As you saw it last
Dishevelled by your hands.
-Lady Sono no Omi Ikura

I'm totes using this as an excuse the next time my hair looks a fright:

This morning I will not
Comb my hair.
It has lain
Pillowed on the hand of my lover.
-Kakinomoto No Hitomaro