き / けり: Recollective Past

Modern Japanese has one past tense, た, and beginners reasonably assume the classical language had a matching ancestor called き or けり. It did not — or rather, the story is stranger and more interesting than that. Classical Japanese carried two past auxiliaries, 過去(かこ)の助動詞(じょどうし) and けり, and neither is where modern た comes from. た descends from a different word entirely, the perfective たり (covered on the つ / ぬ / たり / り page). That single fact is the key to this page: き and けり are a separate recollective past that faded out of everyday grammar and survives today only in poetic, wistful set phrases — which is exactly why 亡(な)き人 and ありし日 feel elevated rather than plainly "-ed."

き — the past you lived through

marks a past event the speaker directly experienced or personally recollects. It is the tense of memory: "I saw," "we went," "it happened to me." It attaches to the 連用形(れんようけい, continuative form) of a verb, and its conjugation is irregular — most importantly, its 連体形(れんたいけい, attributive)is し and its 已然形(いぜんけい, realis)is しか, not the you would expect.

活用形 (form)けり
未然形 (irrealis)(せ)(けら)
連用形 (continuative)
終止形 (conclusive)けり
連体形 (attributive)ける
已然形 (realis)しかけれ
命令形 (imperative)

昔、ここに大きなる城ありき。

mukashi, koko ni ōkinaru shiro ariki

Long ago, there was a great castle here. (something the speaker treats as remembered fact)

我が見し夢は、いかなる夢ぞ。

waga mishi yume wa, ika naru yume zo

The dream that I saw — what kind of dream was it? (見し = 見 + し, the 連体形 modifying 夢)

Notice 見し in the second example: the verb 見る contributes its continuative 見, and the attributive hangs a whole "past that I witnessed" onto the noun 夢. That 〜し-modifying-a-noun pattern is the one piece of き that lived on.

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The irregular attributive is the thing to burn in: き → before a noun, しか before ば/ど. When you meet a mystery 〜し clinging to a noun in an old text or a formal phrase — ありし, 過ぎし, 見し — it is almost always this past auxiliary, "the … that was."

The living traces of き: ありし日, 若かりし頃, 過ぎし日

Here is where a "dead" classical form turns out to be quietly alive. The 連体形 survives in a small family of noun-modifying phrases that educated speakers still write and say:

  • ありし日(あ・りし・ひ) — "days that were," bygone days (あり + し)
  • 過(す)ぎし日 — "days gone by" (過ぎ + し)
  • 若(わか)かりし頃(ころ) — "when one was young" (若かり + し)
  • 来(こ)し方(かた) — "the past, the road one has travelled"

在りし日の祖母の笑顔を、今でも思い出します。

arishi hi no sobo no egao o, ima demo omoidashimasu

Even now I remember my grandmother's smile from her living days.

若かりし頃の写真を見て、少し恥ずかしくなった。

wakakarishi koro no shashin o mite, sukoshi hazukashiku natta

Looking at a photo from when I was young, I felt a little embarrassed.

来し方を振り返れば、あっという間の三十年でした。

koshikata o furikaereba, atto iu ma no sanjū-nen deshita

Looking back over the road I've travelled, thirty years went by in a flash.

These are not museum pieces. 若かりし頃の写真 ("a photo from my younger days") is ordinary in a memoir, a wedding speech, or a reflective conversation. But note the register: they carry a soft, retrospective, slightly literary glow that plain 若かった頃 does not. Choosing ありし日 over あった頃 is a stylistic decision, the way an English writer chooses "days of yore" over "back then."

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Because 来し方 attaches to the カ変 verb 来(く), it uses the 未然形 こ, not the continuative き — a small irregular corner. Read it koshikata ("the past"), the mirror image of 行(ゆ)く末(すえ)("the future"); the pair 来し方行く末 means "past and future, one's whole life's road."

A careful note on 亡き

You will constantly see 亡(な)き人 ("the deceased"), 亡き父, 亡き友 grouped with these poetic 〜し phrases, and they feel like the same recollective past. Be precise, though: 亡き is not the past auxiliary し. It is the 連体形 of the classical adjective 亡(な)し ("to be gone, no longer among us") — the same ク活用 attributive covered on the 〜き / 〜し adjective page. The reason it belongs in the same emotional neighborhood is that both are fossilized attributives that only survive in elevated, elegiac contexts. But grammatically 亡き人 is "a person who is gone," not "a person who past-ed."

亡き父がよく口にしていた言葉です。

naki chichi ga yoku kuchi ni shite ita kotoba desu

These are words my late father often used to say.

けり — hearsay, legend, and sudden realization

けり attaches to the 連用形 too, but it means something き never does. It has two jobs:

  1. 過去(伝聞・回想) — a past the speaker did not witness: legend, hearsay, "the past of stories." This is the けり that opens almost every classical tale.
  2. 詠嘆(えいたん) — a burst of present realization about a state or fact: "ah — so it is!" "it turns out that…" This is the けり that closes countless 和歌(わか)and 俳句(はいく).

The two meanings are one word because of its etymology: けり = き(past)+ あり(to be). Literally "it was, and it still is [as I now notice]." That fossilized "still-is-ness" is precisely why けり can spin from plain past into a live, exclamatory realization.

けり as the voice of legend

今は昔、竹取の翁といふ者ありけり。

ima wa mukashi, taketori no okina to iu mono arikeri

Long ago there lived an old man called the Bamboo Cutter. (the famous opening of the Tale of the Bamboo Cutter)

昔、男ありけり。

mukashi, otoko arikeri

Once, there was a man. (the recurring opening of the Tales of Ise)

The narrator wasn't there; けり frames the whole thing as inherited story. English reaches for "there once lived…," "it is told that…" — that hearsay flavor is the けり.

けり as the poet's gasp

降る雪や明治は遠くなりにけり。

furu yuki ya meiji wa tōku nari ni keri

Snow falling — and the Meiji era, I suddenly feel, has grown so distant. (Nakamura Kusatao)

年のうちに春は来にけり。

toshi no uchi ni haru wa ki ni keri

Within the old year, spring has already come — how remarkable. (the opening poem of the Kokinshū)

In both, け(り) is not narrating a past event; it is the moment the poet realizes something and lets it land. なりにけり / 来にけり pair the perfective に (from ぬ) with 詠嘆 けり — "has become … and I now feel it," "has come … and I now notice." Translate these flat as "-ed" and you delete the entire emotional point.

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Whenever けり sits at the very end of a haiku or waka, default to 詠嘆, not plain past: "…, I realize" / "…, how it strikes me." That final けり is the poem's exhale.

This poem-closing けり is even fossilized into an everyday idiom: けりをつける ("to settle a matter, bring it to a close") is literally "to attach a けり" — to give something the finishing けり a poem gets.

この件はそろそろけりをつけよう。

kono ken wa sorosoro keri o tsukeyō

Let's finally settle this matter.

Why き / けり feel poetic but た feels plain

Now the distinguishing insight competing guides blur. Learners are told modern た "is the past tense," full stop, and are left to assume it evolved from き or けり. It did not. Modern た is a worn-down form of the perfective たり. So Japanese effectively ran two past systems in parallel:

  • The completion / perfective family (つ・ぬ・たり・り) → became た, the grammar everyone uses every day.
  • The recollective past (き・けり) → never became everyday grammar and survives only as poetic 〜し-phrases and set metaphors.

That split is the answer to a question learners feel but can't name: why do 亡き and ありし and 若かりし頃 sound literary, while 死んだ and あった and 若かった頃 sound ordinary? Because the recollective past retreated into poetry, taking its elegiac tone with it. き and けり didn't leave the language — they left the everyday and kept the elevated.

Common mistakes

❌ 若かりし頃、めっちゃ遊んでたわ。

wakakarishi koro, meccha asondeta wa

Register clash — the literary, retrospective 若かりし頃 collides with slangy めっちゃ遊んでたわ.

✅ 若い頃は、めっちゃ遊んでたわ。

wakai koro wa, meccha asondeta wa

Back when I was young, I partied like crazy. (keep the register consistent — use 若い頃 in casual speech)

English speakers reach for ありし日 or 若かりし頃 thinking "past tense" and drop them into casual chat. They are stylistic, not neutral — reserve them for reflective, written, or formal registers.

❌ 昔、ここに城が在りたし。

mukashi, koko ni shiro ga aritashi

Blended forms — た (modern) and し (classical き) don't stack. There is no 〜たし past.

✅ 昔、ここに城が在りし。/ 昔、ここに城があった。

mukashi, koko ni shiro ga arishi / mukashi, koko ni shiro ga atta

There used to be a castle here. (classical 在りし OR modern あった — never a hybrid)

Because た and き are separate systems, you cannot mix their endings. Pick one register and stay in it.

❌ 明治は遠くなりにけり。

meiji wa tōku nari ni keri

❌ Flat reading 'the Meiji era became distant.' — Undertranslation: reading けり as plain past loses the whole poem. It is a realization, not a report.

✅ 明治は遠くなりにけり。

meiji wa tōku nari ni keri

✅ 'The Meiji era, I suddenly feel, has grown so distant.' — render the 詠嘆, the sudden felt realization.

❌ 行くし人

yuku shi hito

❌ Meant as 'the person who went.' — Wrong attachment: き/し attaches to the 連用形, not the 終止形 行く.

✅ 行きし人

yukishi hito

the person who went (行き = continuative, + し attributive)

❌ 亡(な)しき人

Over-classicizing — 亡き is already the adjective's attributive; there is no extra past し on it.

✅ 亡き人

naki hito

the deceased; the one who is gone

Key takeaways

  • Classical Japanese had two pasts, and modern た descends from neither — た comes from the perfective たり.
  • = past you directly experienced/recall; its key survivals are the attributive in ありし日, 過ぎし日, 若かりし頃, and 来(こ)し方.
  • けり = hearsay/legendary past ("…ありけり") and 詠嘆, sudden realization ("…, I now feel"), the classic waka/haiku closer; its idiom けりをつける means "to settle."
  • 亡(な)き is the adjective 亡し, not the past し — but it shares the same elegiac register, which is why they cluster together.
  • These forms feel poetic precisely because the recollective past retreated into elevated language while the perfective family became the everyday た.

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Related Topics

  • つ / ぬ / たり / り: Classical PerfectBeyondThe classical completion auxiliaries つ (deliberate), ぬ (spontaneous), and たり・り (resulting state) are the true source of modern past た — so learners already speak classical grammar every time they say 食べた or 泣いたり笑ったり.
  • 〜き / 〜し: Classical Adjective FormsBeyondThe classical i-adjective endings — attributive 〜き (良き, 高き, 悲しき) and terminal 〜し (良し, 美し) — are the un-eroded ancestors of modern 〜い, so 良き and 亡き are heightened, literary versions of words you already know.
  • む / むず: Conjecture & VolitionBeyondThe classical auxiliary む fuses 'will / shall / probably / let us' into one form — and it is the direct ancestor of modern volitional 〜う・よう, so every 行こう you say is む in disguise, still audible in 〜んとする and 勝たんがため.