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The Sarashina Diary Part 2 · Diaries of Court Ladies of Old Japan

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Section two of Diaries of Court Ladies of Old Japan. This is a LibriVox
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recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or
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to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Diaries of Court Ladies of Old
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Japan by Sarashina Murasakishikibu etal. Translated by Annie Schepliomori and KOCHIDOI the Sarashina Diary,
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Part two. After some days, one of my relatives sent me a
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romance entitled the Prince Yearning after the Buried, with the following note. The
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late lady had asked me to find her this romance. At that time I
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thought it impossible, But now, to utter to my sorrow, some one
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has sent it to me. I answered, what reason can there be that
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she strangely should seek a romance of the buried buried? Now is the seeker
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deep under the mosses. My sister's nurse said that since she had lost her,
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she had no reason to stay and went back to her own home weeping.
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Thus, death or parting separates us each from the other. Why must
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we part? Oh world? Too sad for me? For remembrance of her,
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I wanted to write about her. Began a letter from her nurse,
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but it stopped short with the words ink seems to have frozen up. I
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cannot write any more. How shall I gather memories of my sister? The
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stream of letters is congealed. No comfort may be found in icicles, so
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I wrote, And the answer was like the comfortless plover of the beach in
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the sund printing characters soon to be washed away, unable to leave a more
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enduring trace in this fleeting world. That nurse went to see the grave and
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returned sobbing, saying, I seek her in the field, but she is
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not there, Nor is she in the smoke of the cremation. Where is
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her last dwelling place? How can I find it? The lady who had
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been my stepmother heard of this and wrote, when we wander in search of
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her, ignorant of her last dwelling place, standing before the thought, tears
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must be our guide. The person who had sent the prince yearning after the
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buried, wrote how she must have wandered seeking the unfindable in the unfamiliar fields
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of bamboo grasses. Vainly weeping Reading these poems, my brother, who had
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followed the funeral that night composed the poem. Before my vision, the fire
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and smoke of burning arose and died again to bamboo fields. There is no
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more returning. Why seek there in Vain? It snowed for many days,
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and I thought of the nun who lived in Mount Yoshino, to whom I
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wrote, snow has fallen, and you cannot have even the unusual visual sight
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of men along the precipitous path of the peak of Yoshino. On the sociable
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month of the next year, Father was looking forward with happy expectation to the
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night when he might expect an appointment as governor of the province. He was
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disappointed, and a person who might have shared our joy wrote to me,
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saying, I anxiously waited for the dawn with uncertain hope. The temple bell
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roused me from dreams and waiting for the starlit dawn. The night alas was
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long as our one hundred autumn nights, I rode back. Long was the
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night the bell called from dreams in Vain, for he did not toll our
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realized hopes. Toward the moon hidden days of the rice rout month. I
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went for a certain reason to a temple at Higashiyama. On the way,
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the nursery beds for rice plants were filled with water, and the fields were
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green all over with a young growing rice. It was a smile presenting sight.
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It gave a feeling of loneliness to see the dark shadow of the mountain
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close before me. In the lovely evenings, water rails shattered in the fields.
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The water rails cackle as if they were knocking at the gate. But
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who would be deceived into opening the door? Saying our friend has come along
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the mountain path in the dark night. As the place was near the Raizan
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temple, I went there to worship. Arriving so far, I was fatigued
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and drank from a stone lined well beside the mountain temple, scooping the water
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into the hollow of my hand. My friend said, I could never have
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enough of this water. Is it the first time I asked that you have
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tasted the satisfying sweetness of a mountain well drunk from the hollow of your hand.
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She said, it is sweeter than to drink from a shallow spring,
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which becomes muddy even from the drops which fall from the hand which has scooped
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it up. We came home from the temple in the full brightness of evening
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sunshine, and had a clear view of Kyoto below us. My friend,
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who had said that the spring becomes muddy even with drops falling into it,
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had to go back to the capitol. I was sorry to part with her
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and send word the next morning, when the evening sun descends behind the mountain
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peak, will you forget that it is I who gaze with longing towards the
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place where you are. The holy voices of the priests reciting sutras in their
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morning service could be heard from my house, and I opened the door.
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It was dim early dawn, mist veiled the green forest, which was thicker
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and darker than in the time of flowers or red leaves. The sky seemed
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clouded this lovely morning. Cuckoos were singing on the nearby trees. Oh for
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a friend that we might see and listen together, Oh, the beautiful door
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in the mountain village. The repeated sound of cuckoos near and far away.
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On that moon hidden day, cuckoos sank clamorously on trees towards the glen in
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the Royal city. Poets may be awaiting you, cuckoos, Yet you sing
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here carelessly from morning till night. One who sat near me said, do
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you think that there is one person at least in the capital who is listening
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to cuckoos and thinking of us at this moment? And then many in the
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royal city like to gaze on the calm moon. But is there one who
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thinks of the deep mountain or is reminded of us hidden here? I replied,
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In the dead of night moon gazing, the thought of the deep mountain
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affrighted, Yet longings for the mountain village at all other moments filled my heart.
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Once towards dawn, I heard footsteps which seemed to be those of many
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persons coming down the mountain. I wondered, and looked out. It was
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a herd of deer which came close to her dwelling. They cried out,
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It was not pleasant to hear them near by. It is sweet to hear
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the love call of a deer to its mate. In autumn nights, upon
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the distant hills, I heard that an acquaintance had come near my residence and
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gone back without calling on me. So I wrote, Even these wandering wind
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among the pines of the mountain, I've heard that it departs with murmuring sound.
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In the leaf falling month, I saw the moon more than twenty days
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old. It was towards dawn. The mountain side was gloomy, and the
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sound of the waterfall was all I heard. I wish that lovers of nature
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may see the afterdon waning moon in a mountain village. At the close of
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an autumn night, I went back to Kyoto. When the rice fields,
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which had been filled with water when I came, were dried up, the
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rise being harvested the young plants in their bed of water. The plants harvested,
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the fields dried up. So long I remained away from home, twas
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the moon hidden of the God's absent month. When I went there again for
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temporary residence, the thick grown leaves, which had cast a dark shade,
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were all fallen. The sight was heartfelt. Over All, the sweet murmuring
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rivulet was buried under fallen leaves, and I could see only the course of
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it. Even water could not live on. So lonesome is the mountain of
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the leafs scattering stormy wind. I went back to Kyoto, saying that I
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should come again the next spring. Could I live so long? And begged
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the nun to send word when the flowering time had come. It was past
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the nineteenth of the ever growing month of the next year, but there were
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no tidings from her, So I wrote no word about the blooming cherry blossoms.
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Has not the spring come for you yet? Or does the perfume of
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flowers not reach you? I made a journey and passed many a moonlight night
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in a house beside a bamboo wood. Wind rustled its leaves, and my
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sleep was disturbed night after night. The bamboo leaves sigh, My dreams are
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broken, and a vague, indefinite saddness fills my heart. In autumn I
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went to leave elsewhere and sent a poem. I am like dew on the
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grass, and pitchable wherever I may be, But especially am I oppressed with
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suddness in a field with a thin growth of reeds. After that time,
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I was somehow restless and forgot about the romances. My mind became more sober,
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and I passed many years without doing any remarkable thing. I neglected religious
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services and temple observances. Those fantastic I ideas of the romances? Can they
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be realized in this world? If Father could win some good position, I
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also might enter into a much nobler life. Such unreliable hopes then occupied my
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daily thoughts. At last, the father was appointed governor of a province very
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far in the east. He said, I was always thinking that if I
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could win a position as governor in the neighborhood of the capital, I could
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take care of you. To my heart's desire, I would wish to bring
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you down to some beautiful scenery of sea and mountain. Moreover, I wish
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that you could live attended beyond the possibilities of our present position. Our calmer
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relation from our former world must have been bad. Now I have to go
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so distant a country after waiting so long. When I brought you you were
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a little child, to the eastern province, even a slight illness caused me
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much trouble of mind in thinking that should I die, you would wander helpless
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in that far country. There were many fears in a stranger's country, and
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I should have lived with an easier mind had I been alone, as I
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was then accompanied by all my family, I could not say or do what
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I wanted to say or do, and I was ashamed of it. Now
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you are grown up, and I am not sure that I can live long.
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It is not so unusual a fate to be helpless in the capital.
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But the saddest think of all would be to wander in the eastern province like
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any country woman. There are no relatives in the capital upon whom we could
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rely to foster you. Yet I cannot refuse the appointment which has been made
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after such long waiting. So you must remain here and I must depart for
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eternity. Oh, in what way may I provide a way for you to
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live in the capital? Distantly night and day he lamented saying these things,
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and I got all about flowers or maple leaves, grieving sadly, and there
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was no help for it. He went down on the thirteenth of the seventh
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month, ten thirty two. For several days before that, I could not
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remain still in my own room, for I thought it difficult to see him
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again. On that day, after restless hours, when the time for parting
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came, I had lifted the blind and my eye met his, from which
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tears dropped down. Soon he had passed by. My eyes were dim with
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tears, and soon I concealed myself in bed. A man who had gone
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to see him off, returned with a poem written on a bit of pocket
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paper, a message from her father. If I could do as I wish,
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I could acknowledge more profoundly the sorrow of departing in autumn. I could
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not read the poem to the end. In the happier time, I had
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often tried to compose halting poems, But at present I had no word to
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say. Never begun to think in this world even for a moment from you
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to part alas no person came to my side, and I was very lonely
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and forlorn, musing and guessing where he would be at every moment. As
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I knew the road he was taking, I thought of him the more longingly
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and with greater heart Shrinking morning and evening, I looked towards the sky line
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of the Eastern mountains. In the leaf falling month, I went to the
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temple at Uzumasa to pass many days. We came upon two men's palanquins in
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the road from Ichijo, which had stopped there. They must have been waiting
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for some one to catch up with them. When I passed by, they
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sent an attendant with a message, flowers seek go We suppose I thought it
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would be awkward not to reply to such a slight mutter, and answered thousand
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kinds to be like them in the fields of autumn. I stayed in the
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temple for seven days, but could think of nothing but the road to the
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east. I prayed to the Buddha, saying, there is no way to
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change the present, but grant that we may meet again peacefully after this parting.
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And I thought the Buddha would pity in grant my prayer. It was
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midwinter. It rained all day. In the night a cloud turning wind but
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terribly, and the sky cleared. The moon became exquisitely bright, and it
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was sought to see the tall weeds near the house broken and blown down by
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the wind. Dead stalks of reeds must be reminded of good autumn days.
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In midwinter depths, the tempest lays them low, confused and broken. A
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messenger arrived from the east, father's letter. I wandered through the province,
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going into every shinto shrine, and saw a wide filled with a beautiful river
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running through it. There was a beautiful wood. My first thought was of
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you, and to make you see it, And I asked the name of
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that grove, the grove of longing after one's child was the answer. I
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thought of the one who had first named it, and was extremely sad.
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Alighting from my horse, I stood there for two hours after leaving. Like
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me, he must have yearned sorrowful to see the forest of longing after one's
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child. To see that letter is a sudder thing than to have seen the
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forest the grove of longing after one's child left. Father caressed mountain hard eastern
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way, the grove of longing after one's child. Hearing of it, I
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think of the father caress mountain towards it. Hard is the eastern way for
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a child left here alone. Thus I passed days in doing nothing, and
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I began to think of going to temples making pilgrimages. Mother was a person
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of extremely antiquated mind. She said, oh, dreadful is the hat you
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said, temple? What should you do if you were caught by some one
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at the narrow ascent? Ishi Yama too said, ki Yama pass is very
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dreadful. Kuramasan, Oh dreadful to bring you there? You may go there
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when father comes back, as mother says, So, I can only go
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to kiyomidyu. Temple. My old habits of romantic indulgence were not dead yet,
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and I could not fix my mind on religious thoughts. As I owed
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in the equinoctial week, there was a great tumult of festival, so great
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a noise that I was even afraid of it. And when I lay asleep,
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I dreamt there was a priest within the enclosure before the altar, in
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blue garments, with loose brocade hood and brocade shoes. He seemed to be
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the intendant of the temple. You, being occupied with vain thoughts, are
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not praying for happiness in the world to come, he said indignantly, and
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went behind the curtain. I awoke, startled, yet neither told any one
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what I had dreamt, nor thought about it much. My mother had two
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one foot in diameter bronze mirrors cast, and made a priest take them for
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us to the hutchus a temple. Mother told the priest to pass two or
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three days in the temple, especially praying that a dream might be vouchsafed about
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the future state of the women. For that period I was made to observe
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religious purity. The priest came back to tell the following I was reluctant to
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return without having even a dream, And after bowing many times and performing other
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ceremonies, I went to sleep. There came out from behind the curtain,
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a graceful holy lady in beautiful garments. She, taking up the offered mirrors,
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asked me if no letters were affixed to these mirrors. I answered,
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in the most respectful manner, there were no letters. I was told only
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to offer these strange She said, letters are to be added. See what
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is mirrored in one? It creates pity to look at it. I saw
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her weep bitterly, and so appear in the mirror shadows of people rolling over
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in lamentation. To see these shadows makes one sad, but to see this
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makes one happy. And she held up the other mirror. There the missu
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was fresh green, and many colored garments were revealed below the lower edge of
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it. Plum and cherry blossoms were in flower. Nightingales were singing from tree
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to tree. I did not even listen to his story, nor questioned him
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as to how things seemed in his dream. Someone said, pray to the
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heavenly illuminating honored Goddess, And my reverend mind thought, where is she is
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she a goddess or a Buddha. At first I said so, but afterwards
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grew more discreet and asked someone about her, who replied, she is a
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goddess and takes up her abode at Isse. The goddess is also worshiped by
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the provincial governor of Quai. She is worshiped at the Ancestor Shrine in the
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Imperial Court. I could not, by any means get to is. How
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could I bow before the Imperial shrine? I could never be allowed to go
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there. The idea flowed through my mind to pray for the heavenly light.
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A relative of mine became a nun and entered the Sugaku temple in winter.
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I sent her a poem, Even tears arise for your sake when I think
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of the mountain hamlet, where snow storms will be raging. Reply, I
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seemed to have a glimpse of you coming to me through the dark wood,
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when close overhead is summer's growth of leaves. Ten thirty six, Father,
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who had gone down towards the east, came back at last. He settled
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down at Nishiyama, and we all went there. We were very happy.
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One moon, bright night, we talked all the night. Through such nights
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as this exist, as if it were for eternity. I parted from you,
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how sad was that autumn? At this Father shed tears of happiness abundantly
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and answered me with a poem. But life grows dear and is lived with
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rejoicing, which once was born with hate and lamentation. My joy knew no
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bounds when my waiting was at an end after the supposed parting for eternity.
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Yet my father said, it is ridiculous to lead a worldly life when one
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is very old. I used to feel so when I saw old men,
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But now it is my turn to be old, so I will retire from
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social life. As he said it, with no lingering affection for this world,
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I felt quite alone. Towards the east, the fields stretched far and
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wide, and I could see clearly from Mount Hille to Mountainari. Towards the
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west, the pines of the forest of Narrabigaoca were sounding in my ear,
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and up to the table land on which our house stood, the rise fields
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were cultivated in terraces, while from them came the sound of the birds carrying
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clappers, giving me a homely country sentiment. One moonlight evening, I had
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a message from an old acquaintance who had had an opportunity to send to me,
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and this I sent back. None calls upon me, or remembers me
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in my mountain village, on their reeds by the thin hedge the autumn windsor
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sighing ten thirty seven. In the tenth month, we changed our abode to
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the Capitol. Mother had become a nun, and although she lived in the
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same house, shut herself up in a separate chamber. Father rather treated me
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as an independent woman than as his child. I felt helpless to see him
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shinning all society and living hidden in the shade. A person who had heard
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about me through a distant relative called me to her, saying it would be
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better to be with her than passing idle lonely days. My old fashioned parents
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thought the court life would be very unpleasant and wanted me to pass my time
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at home. But others said, people now days go out as ladies in
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waiting at the court, and then fortunate opportunities for marriage are naturally numerous,
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why not try it? So I was sent to the court against my will.
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I went for one night. The first time I was dressed in an
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eightfold tou chiegy of deep and pale chrysanthemum colors, and over it I wore
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the outer flowing robe of deep red silk. As I have said before,
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my mind was absorbed in romances, and I had no important relatives from whom
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I could learn distinguished manners or court customs. So except from the romances,
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I could not know them. I had always been in the shadow of the
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antiquated parents, and had been accustomed not to go out but to see moon
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and flowers. So when I left home, I felt as if I were
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not I, nor was it the real world to which I was going.
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I started in the early morning. I had often fancied in my countryfied mind
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that I should hear more interesting things for my heart's consolation than were to be
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found living fixed in my parents house. I felt awkward in court, in
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everything I did, and I thought it sad, But there was there's no
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use in complaining. I remembered with grief my nieces who had lost their mother
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and had been cared for by me alone, even sleeping at night, one
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on either side of me. Days were spent in musing with a vacant mind.
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I felt as if some one were always spying upon me, and I
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was embarrassed. After ten days or so, I got leave to go out.
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Father and mother were waiting for me with a comfortable fire in a brazier.
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Seeing me getting out of my palanquin, my niece said, when you
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were with us, people came to see us. But now no one's voice
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is heard, no one's shadow falls before the house. We are very low
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spirited. What can you do for us who must pass days like this?
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It was pitiful to see them cry when they said it. The next morning,
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they sat before me, saying, as you were here, many persons
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are coming and going. It seems livelier. Tears came to my eyes.
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Think what virtue I could have that my little nieces made so much of me.
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It would be very difficult even for a saint to dream of his prenatal
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life. Yet, when I was before the altar of the Kiomija temple,
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in a faintly dreamy state of mind, which was neither sleeping nor waking,
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I saw a man who seemed to be the head of the temple. He
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came out and said to me, you were once a priest of this temple,
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and you were born into a better state by virtue of the many Buddhist
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images which you carved as a Buddhist artist. The Buddha seventeen feet high,
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which is enthroned in the eastern side of the temple, was your work.
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When you were in the act of covering it with gold foil, you died,
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Oh, undeservedly blessed, I said, I will finish it. Then
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the priest replied, as you died, another man covered it and performed the
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ceremony of offerings. I came to myself and thought, if I say with
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all my heart the Buddha of the key of Mitu Temple by virtue of my
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prayers in this temple in the previous life. In the finishing month, I
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went again to the court. A room was assigned for my use. I
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went to the princess's apartment every night and lay down among unknown persons, so
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I could not sleep at all. I was bashful and timid, and wept
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in secret. In the morning, I retired while it was still dark,
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and passed the days in longing for a home where my old and weak parents,
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making much of me, relied upon me as if I were worthy of
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it. I yearned for them and felt very lonely, unfortunate, deplorable and
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helpless mind that was graven into my thought, And although I had to perform
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my duty faithfully, I could not always wait upon the princess. She seemed
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not to guess what was in my heart, and attributing it only to shyness,
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favored me by summoning me often from among the other ladies. She used
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to say, call the younger ladies, and I was dragged out in spite
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of myself. Those who were familiar with the court life seemed to be at
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home there, but I, who was not very young yet did not wish
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to be counted among the elderly, was rather neglected and made to usher guests.
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However, I did not expect too much of court life, and had
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no envy for those who were more graceful than I. This, on the
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contrary, set me at ease, and I from time to time presented myself
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before the princes and talked only with congenial friends about lovely things, even on
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smile presenting interesting occasions. I shrank from intruding and becoming too popular, and
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did not go far into most things. Sleeping one night before the princess,
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I was awakened by cries and fluttering noises from the water fowl in the pond.
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Like as the water fowl pass all the night in floating sleep, they
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seemed to be weary with shaking away the frost from their feathers. My companions
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passed their leisure time in talking over romances with the door open which separated our
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rooms, and they often called back. One who had gone to the prince's
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apartment. She sent word once, I will go if I must, intending
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to give herself the pleasure of coming. The long leaves of the reed are
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easily bent, so I will not forcibly persuade it, but leave it to
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the wind. In this way we passed the hours talking idly. Afterwards,
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this lady separated from the court and left us. She remembered that night and
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sent me word that moonless, flowerless winter night. It penetrates my thought and
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makes me dwell on it. I wonder why it touched my heart, for
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I also was thinking of that night in my dreams. The tears of that
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cold night are still frozen, But this I weep away secretly. The princess
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still called my stepmother by the name of Kazusa, Governor's lady. Father was
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displeased that that name was still used after she had become another man's wife,
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and he made me write to her about it. The name of Asakura in
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a far off country. The court now hears it in a divine dun song.
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My name also is still somewhere heard, but not honorably. One very
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bright night after the full moon, I attended the princess to the Imperial Palace.
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I remember that the heaven illuminating goddess was enthroned within, and wanted to
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take an opportunity to kneel before the altar. One moon bright night, I
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went in privately, for I know Lady Hakaseah, who was taking care of
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the shrine. The perpetual lights before the altar burnt dimly, she grew wondrously
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old and holy. She seemed not like a mortal, but like a divine
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incarnation. Yet she spoke very gracefully. The moon was very bright on the
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following night, and the princesses ladies passed the time in talking and moon gazing.
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Opening the doors of the Fujisubo, the footsteps of the Royal Consort of
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Fumsubo, going up to the King's apartment were so exquisitely graceful as to excite
30:17
envy. Had the late Queen been living, she could not walk so grandly.
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Some one said, I composed a poem. She is like the moon,
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who, opening the gate of heaven, goes up over the clouds.
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We, being in the same heavenly palace, passed the night in remembering the
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footfalls of the past. The ladies who were charged with the duty of introducing
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the court nobles seemed to have been fixed upon, and nobody notices whether simple
30:48
hearted country women like me exist or not. On a very dark night in
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the beginning of the God's absent month, when sweet voiced reciters were to read
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sutras throughout the night, and another lady and I went out towards the entrance
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door of the audience room to listen to it, and after talking, fell
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asleep listening leaning when I noticed the gentleman had come to be received in audience
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by the princess. It is awkward to run away to our apartment. We
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will remain here. Let it be as it will, so said my companion,
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and I sat beside her listening. He spoke gently and quietly. There
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was nothing about him to be regretted. Who is the other lady? He
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asked of my friend, He said, nothing rude or amorous like other men,
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but talked delicately of the sad sweet things of the world, and many
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a phrase of his, with a strange power, enticed me into conversation.
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He wondered that there should have been in the court one who was a stranger
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to him and did not seem inclined to go away. Soon there was no
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starlight, and a gentle shower fell in the darkness. How lovely was its
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sound on the leaves. The more deeply beautiful is the night, he said,
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The full moonlight would be too dazzling. Discoursing about the beauties of spring
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and autumn, he continued, although every hour has its charm, pretty is
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the spring haze. Then the sky, being tranquil and overcast, the face
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of the moon is not too bright. It seems to be floating on a
32:25
distant river. At such a time, the calm spring melody of the lute
32:30
is exquisite. In autumn, on the other hand, the moon is very
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bright. Though there are mists trailing over the horizon. We can see things
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as clearly as if they were at hand. The sound of wind, the
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voices of insects, All sweet things seemed to melt together. When at such
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a time we listen to the autumnal music of the Kotto, we forget the
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spring. We think that is best. But the winter sky froze all over,
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magnificently cold, the snow covering the earth, and its light mingling with
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the moonshine. Then the notes of the hichiuiki vibrate on the air, and
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we forget spring and autumn. And he asked us which captivates your fancy?
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On which stays your mind? My companion answered in favor of autumn, and
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I, not being willing to imitate her, said, pale green night,
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and flowers all melting into one in the soft haze everywhere, the moon glimmering
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in the spring night, so I replied, And he, after repeating my
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poem to himself over and over, said, then you give up autumn after
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this, As long as I live, such a spring night shall be for
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me a memento of your personality. The person who favored autumn said, others
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seemed to give their hearts to spring, and I shall be alone gazing at
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the autumn moon. He was deeply interested in being uncertain in thought, said,
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even the poets of the Tank Empire could not decide which to praise most
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spring or autumn. Your decisions make me think that there must be some personal
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reasons. When our inclination is touched or charmed, our souls are imbued with
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the colors of the sky, moon, or flowers of that moment. I
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desire much to know how you came to know the charms of spring and autumn.
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The moon of a winter night is given as an instance of dreariness,
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and as it is very cold. I had never seen it intentionally when I
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went down to is It to be present as the messenger of the king at
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the ceremony of installing the virgin in charge of the shrine. I wanted to
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come back in the early dawn, so went to take leave of the princes
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in a moon bright night after many days snow half shrinking to think of my
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journey. Her residence was another worldly place, awful even to the imagination.
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But she called me into an adequate apartment. There were persons in that room
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who had come down in the reign of the Emperor Anew. Their aspect was
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very holy, ancient and mystical. They told of the things of long ago.
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With tears, they brought out a well tuned forth stringked loot. The
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music did not seem to be anything happening in this world. I regretted that
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day should even dawn, and was touched so deeply that I had almost forgotten
35:31
about returning to the capital. Ever since then, the snowy nights of winter
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recall that scene, and I without fail gaze at the moon, even though
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hugging the fire. You will surely understand me, And hereafter every dark night,
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with gentle rain will touch my heart. I feel this has not been
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inferior to the snowy night at the Palace of the Easy Virgin. With these
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words, he departed, and I thought he could not have known who I
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was. In the eighth month of the next year, we went again to
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the Imperial Palace, and there was in the court an entertainment throughout the night.
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I did not know that he was present at it, and I passed
36:12
that night in my own room. When I looked out, opening the sliding
36:15
doors on the corridor, I saw the morning moon, very faint and beautiful.
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I heard footsteps, and people approached, some reciting sutras. One of
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them came to the entrance and addressed me. I replied, and he,
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suddenly, remembering, exclaimed that night of softly falling rain I did not forget
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even for a moment. I yearned for it, as chance did not permit
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me many words. I said, what intensity of memory clings to your heart?
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That gentle shower fell on the leaves only for a moment our hearts touched?
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I had scarcely said so when people came up, and I stole back
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without his answer. That evening, after I had gone to my room,
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my companion came in to tell me that he had replied to my poem.
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If there be such a tranquil night as that of the rain, I should
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like in some way to make you listen to my lute playing all the songs
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I can remember. I wanted to hear it, and waited for the fit
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occasion, but there was none ever. End of Section two