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The Diary of Izumi Shikibu Part 1 · Diaries of Court Ladies of Old Japan

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Section seven 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. Read by Serafina. Diaries of
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Court Ladies of Old Japan by Sarashina Munasaki Shikibu, etol. Translated by Annie
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Shepli Omori and Kotchidoi The Diary of Izumi Shikibu, Part one a d.
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One thousand two two one thousand three. Many months had passed in lamenting the
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world more shadowy than a dream. Already the tenth day of the Deutzia mouth
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was over. A deeper shade lay under the trees, and the grass on
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the embankment was greener. These changes, unnoticed by any, seemed beautiful to
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her, and while musing upon them, a man stepped lightly along behind the
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hedge. She was idly curious, but when he came towards her, she
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recognized the page of the late Prince. He came at a sorrowful moment,
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so she said, is your coming not long delayed? To talk over the
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past? Was inclined? Would it not have been? Presuming forgive me in
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mountain temples have been worshiping. To be without ties is sad, so wishing
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to take service again, and went to Prince Sochinomiya excellent. That prince is
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very elegant and is known to me. He cannot be as of your I
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e unmarried, so she said, and he replied no, but he is
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very gracious. He asked me whether I ever visit you now a days?
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Yes, I do, said I. Then breaking off this branch of Tachibana
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flowers, his Highness replied, give this to her, see how she will
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take it. The Prince had in mind the old poem The scent of Tachibana
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flowers in May recalls the perfumed sleeves of him who is no longer here.
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So I have come. What shall I say to him? It was embarrassing
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to return an oral message through the page, and the Prince had not written.
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Discontented yet, wishing to make some response, she wrote a poem and
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gave it to the page. That scent indeed brings memories, but rather to
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be reminded of that other would hear the cuckoo's voice. The Prince was on
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the veranda of his palace, and as the page approached him with important face.
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He led him into an inner room, saying what is it? The
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page presented the poem. The Prince read it and wrote this answer. The
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cuckoo sings on the same branch, with voice unchanged, that shall you know?
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His Highness gave this to the page and walked away, saying, tell
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it to no one. I might be thought amorous. The page brought the
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poem to the lady. Lovely it was, but it seemed wiser not to
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write too often, so did not answer. On the day following his first
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letter, this poem was sent to you. I betrayed my heart alas confessing
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brings deeper grief, lamenting days, feeling was rootless, but being unlearned in
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loneliness and attracted, she wrote an answer. If you lament to day,
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at this moment, your heart may feel for mine, for in sorrow,
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months and days have worn away. He wrote often, and she answered sometimes,
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and felt her loneliness a little assuaged. Again, she received a letter
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after expressing feelings of great delicacy. I would solace you with consoling words,
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if spoken in vain, no longer could be exchanged. To talk with you
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about the departed one how would it be for you to come in the evening
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unobtrusively. Her answer, as I hear of comfort, I wish to talk
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with you, But being an uprooted person, there is no hope of my
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standing upright. I am footless, meaning I cannot go to you. Thus
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she wrote, and His Highness decided to come as a private person. It
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was still daylight, and he secretly called his servant ukon Nozo, who had
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usually been the me by which the letters had reached the Prince, and said,
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I am going somewhere. The man understood and made preparations. His Highness
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came in a humble palanquin and made his page announce him. It was embarrassing.
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She did not know what to do. She could not pretend to be
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absent after having written him and answer that very day. It seemed too heartless
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to make him go back at once without entering, thinking I will only talk
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to him, She placed a cushion by the west door on the verandah and
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invited the Prince there. Was it because he was so much admired by the
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world that he seemed to her unusually fascinating, But this only increased her caution.
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While they were talking, the moon shone out and it became uncomfortably bright.
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He as I have been out of society and living in the shade.
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I am not used to such a bright place as this. It was too
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embarrassing. Let me come in where you are sitting. I will not be
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rude as others are. You are not one to receive me often, are
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you? No? Indeed, what a strange idea? Only to night we
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shall talk together? I think never again? Thus lightly talking the night advanced?
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Shall we spend the night in this way? He asked? The night
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passes, we dream no faintest dream. What shall remains to me of this
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summer night? She thinking of the world sleeves wet with tears, or my
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bed fellows calmly to dream sweet dreams. There is no night for that.
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He I am not a person who can leave my house easily. You may
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think me rude, but my feeling for you grows ardent, and he crept
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into the room, felt horribly embarrassed, but conversed together, and at daybreak
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he returned next day's letter, in what way are you thinking about me?
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I feel anxiety to you. It may be a commonplace to speak of love,
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but my feeling this morning to nothing. Can it be compared? She
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answered, whether commonplace or not? Thoughts do not dwell upon it. For
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the first time, I am caught in the toils. Oh, what a
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person? What has she done? So tenderly? The late Prince spoke to
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her. She felt regret, and her mind was not tranquil. Just then
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the page came, awaited a letter, but there was none. It disappointed
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her how much in love. When the page returned, a letter was given.
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The letter where my heart permitted even to feel the pain of waiting.
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It may be. To wait is lesser pain to night, not even to
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wait for The Prince read it and felt deep pity. Yet there must be
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reserve in going out at night. His affection for his princess is unusually light.
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But he may be thinking it would seem odd to leave home every night.
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Perhaps he will reserve himself until the morning. For the late Prince is
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over. It is a sign that his love is not deep. An answer
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came after nightfall. Had she said she was waiting for me with all her
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heart, without rest, towards the house of my beloved? Should I have
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been impelled when I think how lightly you may regard me? Her answer,
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why should I think lightly of you? I am a drop of dew hanging
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from a leaf, Yet I am not unrestful, for on this branch I
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seem to have existed from before the birth of the world. Please think of
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me as like the unstable dew, which cannot even remain unless the leaf supports
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it. His Highness received this letter. He wanted to come, but days
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passed without realizing his wish. On the moon hidden day, last day of
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the month, she wrote, if to day passes your muffled voice of April,
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oh cuckoo, where can I hear? She sent this poem, but
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as the Prince had many callers, it could only reach him the next morning.
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His answer, the cuckoo's song in spring is full of pain. Listen
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and you will hear his song of summer full throated from to day. And
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so he came at last, avoiding public attention. The lady was preparing herself
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for temple going and in the act of religious purification, Thinking that the rare
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visits of the prince betrayed his indifference, and supposing that he had come only
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to show that he was not without sympathy, she continued the night, absorbed
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in religious services. Talking little with him in the morning, the prince said,
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I have passed an extraordinary night. New is such feeling for me?
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We have been near, yet the night passed and our souls have not met.
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And he added, I am wretched. She could feel his distress and
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was sorry for him, and said, with endless sorrow. My heart is
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waited, and night after night is past, even without meeting of the eyelids.
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For me, this is not new. May second, the Prince wrote
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to her, are you going to the temple to day? When shall you
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be at home again? Answer? In its season? The time of gently
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falling rain will be over to night. I will drag from its bed.
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The root of Ayame went to the temple and came back after two or three
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days to find a letter from him. My heart yearns for THEE, and
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I wish to see THEE. Yet I am discouraged by the treatment of the
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other night. I am sad and ashamed. Do not suppose that I remain
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at home because my feeling is shallow. She is cold hearted, yet I
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cannot forget her. Time wipes out bitterness, but deepens longings, which to
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day have overcome me. Not slight is my feeling although her reply, are
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you coming scarcely believable are your words? For not even a shadow passes before
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my unfrequented dwelling. The Prince came as usual, unannounced. The lady did
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not believe that he would come at all, and, being tired out with
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the religious observances of several days, fell asleep. No one noticed the gentle
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knocking the gate. He, on the other hand, had heard some rumors,
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and, suspecting the presence of another lover, quietly retired. A letter
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came on the morning of the next day. I stood before your closed door,
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never to be opened, Seeing it became the symbol of your pitiless heart.
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I tasted the bitterness of love and pitied myself. Then she knew that
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he had come the night before, carelessly fallen asleep, and wrote back,
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how can you write the thoughts? The door of precious wood was closely shut.
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No way to read that heart. All is thy suspicion. Oh that
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I could lay bare my heart to you. The next night he wanted to
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come again, yet he was advised against it. He feared the criticism of
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the Chamberlain and Crown Prince, so his visits became more and more infrequance in
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the continuous rains. The lady gazed at the clouds and thought how the court
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would be talking about them. She had had many friends, now there was
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only the Prince. Though people invented various tales about her, she thought the
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truth could never be known to any. The Prince wrote a letter about the
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tedious rain. You are thinking only of the long rains forever falling everywhere.
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Into my heart also the rain falls long melancholy days. It was smile giving
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to see that he sees upon every occasion to write her a poem, And
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she also felt, as he did, that this was a time for sentiment.
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The reply unaware of the sadness in your heart, knowing only the rain
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and mind. And on another paper she wrote another poem. It passes the
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very sorrowful life of the world. By to day's long reign, it can
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be known the high water mark will be exceeded, Or it passes the very
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sorrowful life of the world. By to day's long meditation, it can be
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known the flood will be exceeded. Is it still long before ye come?
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The Prince read this letter, and the messenger came back with his answer.
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Helpless man I am weary even of life. Not to you alone, beneath
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the sky is rain and dulness. For us both it is a stupid world.
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It was the sixth day of the fifth month, rain not yet stopped.
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The Prince had been much more touched by her answer of the day before,
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which was deeper in feeling, And on that morning of heavy rain,
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he sent with much kindness to inquire after her. Very terrible was the sound
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of rain? Of what was I thinking? All the long night through,
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listening to the rain against the window. I was sheltered, but the storm
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was in my heart. The lady wrote thus to the Prince, and he
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thought not hopeless his poem. All the night through it was of you.
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I thought, how is it in a house where is no other to make
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rain forgotten? At noon, people were talking about the flooding of the Kamo
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River, and many went to see it. The Prince among them. He
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wrote, how are you at present? I have just come back from flood,
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seeing the feeling of my heart like the overflowing waters of the flood,
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but deeper my heart's feeling. Do you know this? She wrote toward me.
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The waters do not overflow. No depth lies there, though the meadow
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is flooded. Words are not enough in these words, she replied to him,
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And his Highness made up his mind to come and ordered perfrimuri for himself.
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Just then his old nurse, Chiju no Menoto came up. Where are
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you going? She said? People are talking about it. She is no
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lady of high birth. If you wish her to serve you, you may
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summon her here as a servant. Your undignified goings out are very painful for
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us. Many men go to her, and some awkward thing may happen.
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All those improper things are suggested by Ukonozo. He accompanied the late Prince.
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Also, if you wander out in the depths of night, no good can
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come of it. I will tell the Prime Minister of the persons who accompany
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you in these night visits. In the world, there may be changes.
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No one can tell what will happen tomorrow. The late Minister loved you much
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and asked the present one to show you favor. You must keep yourself from
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these indiscretions till worldly affairs are quite settled. The Prince said, where shall
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I go? I am so bored and am seeking temporary recreation. People are
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foolish to make much of it. He said this, although much hurt by
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the necessity for it. Besides that, he thought her not unworthy of him,
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and even wished to bring her to the palace as a concubine. On
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the other hand, he reflected that in that case, things even more painful
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to here would be said, and in his trouble of mind days were past.
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At last he visited her. I could not come in spite of my
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desires. Please do not think that I neglect you. The fault is in
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you. I have heard that there are many friends of yours who are jealous
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of me. That makes me more reserved. And so many days have gone
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by. The Prince talked gently and said, now come for this night only
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there is a hidden place no one sees. There I can talk with tranquil
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mind. The palanquin was brought near the verandah. She was forced to enter
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it and went without her own volition with unsteady mind. She kept thinking that
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people would know about it, but as the night was far advanced, no
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one found them out. The conveyance was quietly brought to a corridor where no
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one was and he got out. He whispered as the moon is very bright.
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Get down quickly. She was afraid, but hurriedly obeyed him. Here
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there is no one to see us. From this time. We will meet
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here at your honorable dwelling. I am always anxious about other men. I
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can never be at ease there. His words were gentle, and when it
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was dawn, he made her get into the balanquin, and said, wish
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to go with you. But as it is broad daylight, I fear people
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may think I have passed the night outside the court. He remained in the
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palace, and she, on her way home, thought of the strange going
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out, and of the rumors that would fly about. Yet the uncommonly beautiful
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features of the prince at dawn were lingering in her mind her letter. Rather
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would I urge your early return at evening than ever again make you arise at
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dawn. It is so sorrowful his reply to see you to parting in the
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morning dew, comparing it were better to come back in the evening. Unsatisfied,
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let us drive away such thoughts. I cannot go out this evening on
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account of the evil spirit AI. He might encounter it only to fetch you
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I venture. She felt distress because this sort of thing could not go on
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always. But he came with the same palanquin and said, hurry, hurry.
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She felt ashamed because of her maids, yet stole out into the carriage.
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At the same place as last night, voices were heard, so they
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went to another building. At dawn, he complained of the cock's crowing,
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and leading her gently into the palanquin, went out with her. On the
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way, he said, at such times as these always come with me,
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and she how can it always be so? Then he returned. Two or
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three days went by. The moon was wonderfully bright. She went to the
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veranda to see it, and there received a letter, What are you doing
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at this moment? Are you gazing at the moon? Are you thinking with
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me of the moon at the mountain's edge? In memory? Lamenting the short,
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sweet night, hearing the cock awake too soon more than usually please?
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Was that letter. For her thoughts were then dwelling on the bright moon night
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when she was unafraid of men's eyes at the Prince's palace. The answer that
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night the same moon shone down, thinking so I gaze, but unsatisfied is
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my heart and my eyes are not contented with moon seeing? She mused alone
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until the day dawned. The next night the prince came again, but she
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knew not of it. A lady was living in the opposite house. The
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princess attendant saw a palanquin stopping before it and said to his Highness, some
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one has already come. There is a palanquin. Let us retire, said
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the prince, and he went away. Now he could believe the rumors.
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He was angry with her, yet being unable to make an end of it,
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he wrote, have you heard that I went to you last night?
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It makes me unhappy that you don't even know that against the hill of pines,
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where the maiden pines for me, waves were high that I had seen
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yet to day's sight. O Ominnius. She received the letter on a rainy
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day. Oh unlooked for disaster, she suspected slanderous tongues. You only are
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my always waited for island. What waves can sweep it away? So she
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answered. But the Prince, being somewhat troubled by the sight of the previous
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night, did not write to her for a long time. Yet at last,
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love and misery in various shapes passed through my mind, and never rest.
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She wished to answer, but was ashamed to explain herself, so only
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wrote, let it be as you will come, or not yet to part
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without bitter feeling would lighten my sorrow. From that time he seldom sent letters.
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One moon bright night, she was lying with grieving thoughts. She envied
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the moon in its serene course, and could not refrain from writing to the
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prince. In her deserted house. She gazes at the moon. He is
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not coming, and she cannot reveal her heart. There is none who will
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listen. She sent her page to give the poem to ucon Nozzo. Just
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then the Prince was talking with others before the king. When he retired from
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the presence, ucon Nozzo offered the letter. Prepare the palanquin, he said,
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and he came to her. The lady was sitting near the verandah,
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looking at the sky and feeling that some one was coming, had had the
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soudare rolled down. He was not in his court robe, but in his
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soft every day ware, which was more pleasing to her eye. He silently
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placed his poem before her on the end of his van, saying, as
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your messenger returned too soon without awaiting my answer, She drew it towards her
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with her own. The prince seemed to think of coming in, but went
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out into the garden, singing, my beloved is like a dew drop on
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a leaf. At last he came nearer and said, I must go to
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night. I came secretly, but on such a bright night as this,
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none can escape being seen. Tomorrow I must remain within for religious duties,
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and people will be suspicious if I am not at home. He seemed about
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to depart when she oh that a shower might come, so another brightness,
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more sweet than the heavenly one, might linger here for a while. He
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felt that she was more amiable than others had admitted. Ah, dear one,
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he said, and came up for a while, then went away,
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saying, unwillingly urged by the moon on her cloudy track, his body is
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going out, but not his heart. When he was gone, she had
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the sudai rolled up and read his poem in the moonlight. She is looking
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at the moon, but her thoughts are all of me. Hearing this,
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it draws me to her side. How happy he seemed to have been,
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thinking her a worthless woman. But he has changed his mind, she thought.
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The prince on his side thought the lady would have some value for him
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when he wanted to be amused. But even while he was thinking it,
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he was told that the major general was her favorite and visited her in the
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daytime. Still others said, Yobukiyo is another of her lovers. The Prince
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was deterred by these words and wrote no more. One day, his Highness's
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little page, who was the lover of one of her maids, came to
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the house. While they were chattering, the page was asked if he had
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brought a letter. He answered no. One day my Lord came here,
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but he found a palanquin at the gate. From that time he does not
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write letters. Moreover, he has heard that others visit here when the boy
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was gone. This was told. She was deeply humiliated. No presumptuous thoughts
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nor desire for material to pendance had been hers only while she was loved and
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respected. Had she wished for intercourse, estrangement of any other kind would have
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been bearable. But her heart was torn asunder to think that he should suspect
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her of so shameful a thing. In the midst of mourning over her unfortunate
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situation, a letter was brought to her. I am ill and much troubled.
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These days of late I visited your dwelling, But alas at an unlucky
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time, I feel that I am unmanly. Let it be, I will
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not look toward the beach. The seaman's little boat has rowed away. Her
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answer, you have heard unmentionable things about me. I am humiliated, and
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it is painful for me to write any more. Perhaps this will be the
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last letter. Off the shore of Aimlessness, with burning heart and tripping sleeves,
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I am he who drifts in the seaman's boat, or off the shore
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of soude, with burning heart and stripping sleeves, I am he who drifts
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in the seaman's boat. It was already the seventh month. On the seventh
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day she received many letters from elegant persons in deference to the celestial lovers,
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but her heart was not touched by them. She was only thinking that she
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was utterly forgotten by the Prince, who had never lost such an opportunity to
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write to her. But at last there came a poem, alas that I
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should become like the herder God, who can only gaze at the weaving one
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beyond the river of heaven. The lady saw that he could not forget her,
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and she was pleased her poem, I cannot even look towards that shore
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where the herder god waits. The lover stars also might avoid me. His
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Highness would read, and he would feel that he must not desert her.
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Towards the moon hidden day end of the month, he wrote to her,
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I am very lonely. Please write to me sometimes, as to one of
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your friends. Her reply, because you do not wake, you cannot hear.
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The wind is sighing in the reeds. Ah nights and nights of autumn.
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The messenger who took the poem came back with one from him. Oh,
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my beloved, how can you think my sleep untroubled? Lately? Sad
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thoughts have been mine, and never sleep is sound the wind blows over the
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reeds. I will not sleep, but listen whether its sigh thrills my heart.
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After two or three days, towards evening, he came unexpectedly and made
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his palanquin draw into the courtyard, as she had not yet seen him in
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the daylight. He was abashed, he said, but there was no help
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for it. He went away soon and did not write for so long that
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anxiety began to fill her heart. So at last she sent wearily. The
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autumn days drag by from him, no message, boding silence. Sweet are
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man's promises, But how different is the heart? Then he wrote that though
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he never forgot her of late, he could not leave the palace. Though
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days pass and others may forget, I can never lose the thought that meeting
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in the evening of an autumn day, the lady was pitiable, having no
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one to depend on, and tried to sustain herself with the uncertain consolations of
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a life of sentiment. Reflection increased her wretchedness, and when the eighth month
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came, she went to Ishiyama Temple to revive her doleful spirit, intending to
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remain there for seven days. One day, the prince said to his page,
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it is a long time since I wrote. Here is a letter for
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her. The page replied, I went to her house the other day and
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heard that she had lately gone to Ishiyama Temple. Then it is already late
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in the day. Tomorrow morning, YE shall go there. He wrote a
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letter, and the page went to Ishiyama with it. Her mind was not
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in the presence of Buddha, but at home in the royal city. She
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was thinking that were she loved by him as at the beginning, there would
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have been no wandering like that. She was very sad, Yet sadness made
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her prey to the Buddha with all her heart. Perceiving that some one approached,
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she looked down, wondering who it might be. It was the Prince's
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page. As she had just been thinking of the prince, she hurriedly sent
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her maid to question him. The letter was brought and opened with more agitation
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than usual. It was as follows, you seem to be steeped in Buddha's
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teaching. It would have given me pleasure to have been informed of it.
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Surely I am not loved so deeply that I am a hindrance to your devotion
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to Buddha. Only to think of your calm makes me jealous. The poem
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do you feel that my soul wanders after you, passing across the barrier?
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Oh ceaseless, longing when shall you return? When she was in his neighborhood,
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he wrote, but seldom gratifying that he should send a letter so far.
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The answer the way of meeting. She was thinking that he had quite
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forgotten. Who can it be that is coming across the barrier? Or the
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way of Omi. She was thinking that he had quite forgotten. Who can
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it be that is coming across the barrier? You ask when I shall go
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back? It is as yet uncertain. On the Mount Nagara, my yearning
32:45
is towards the Biwa lake. Uchi de Nohama does not lie towards Miyako or
32:52
on the mount. While being my yearning is towards the open water. The
32:58
beach of going out does not lie towards the royal city. The prince read
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her poems and said to the page, I am sorry to trouble you,
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but please go once more. His poem, I sought for you in the
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Osakayama, but though never forgetting you, my way was lost in the trackless
33:19
valley. Or I sought for you in the amount of meeting, but though
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never forgetting you, my way was lost in the trackless valley. His second
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poem, being overwhelmed with sorrow, I wished to remain in retirement, but
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Omi no Yumi is beyond Uchi di Nohama. Or being overwhelmed with sorrow,
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I wished to remain in retirement, but the lake of meeting is beyond the
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beach of going out. She wrote back only poems Tears which could not be
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restrained at the barrier flow towards the Omi no yumi, or tears which could
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not be restrained at the barrier, flowed towards the lake of meeting. And
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on the margin she wrote, let me try you my own heart also come
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and tempt me towards the royal city. His highness had never thought of going
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so far to seek her, but he thought he must go to her,
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as he had received such a letter. He came, and they went back
34:31
together. His poem in Felicitous Love, although entered into the way of eternal
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law, who was it? Came and tempted back to the Royal City.
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The answer out of the mountain, to the darker path, I wander because
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I met you once more towards the moon hidden day, a devastating wind blew
34:57
hard, it rained, and she was even than usual when a letter was
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brought. She thought the Prince had not lost a fit occasion to inquire for
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her, and she could harbor no hard thoughts of him. His poem in
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sorrow, I gaze upon the sky of autumn, The clouds are in turmoil,
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and the wind is high. Her answer, A gentle wind of autumn
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makes me sad O day of storm, no way to speak of it.
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The prince thought in this he could read her true feeling. But days passed
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before his visit. It was after the tenth day of the ninth month he
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waked and saw the morning moon. It seemed a long time since he had
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seen her. He felt that she was gazing at this moon, so,
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followed by his page, he knocked at her gait. The lady was lying
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awake and meditating, lost in a melancholy which may have been due to the
35:58
season. She wondered at the knock, but knew not who the visitor might
36:02
be. She waked the maid lying beside her, who was in the sound
36:07
sleep. The latter called out for the man servant when he went out,
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waking with difficulty. The knocking had seized, and the visitor had gone.
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The guest must have thought her a dull sleeper and been disheartened. Who was
36:23
it likely to be? Surely one of like mind with herself. Her man,
36:30
who had gone out after much rousing and seen no one, complained that
36:35
it was only her fancy. Even at night, our mistress is restless,
36:40
Oh, these unpeaceful persons. Thus he grumbled away, but went to sleep
36:45
again. At once the lady got up and saw the misty sky. When
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morning came, she jotted down her thoughts aimlessly, and while doing it,
36:57
received a letter. In the autumn night, the pale morning moon was setting
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when I turned away from the shut door. He must have thought her a
37:07
disappointing woman. Yet she was happy to think that. He never failed to
37:13
associate her with every changing season, and came to her door when he was
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attracted by the lovely sight of the sky. So she folded the notes she
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had just written and sent them to his Highness. The notes sound of wind.
37:30
Wind blows hard, as if it were determined to blow away the lost
37:32
leaves on the branch. It grows cloudy and threatening. Rain patters slightly.
37:39
I am hopelessly desolate. Before the autumn ends, my sleeves will be all
37:45
rotted with tears. The slow rains cannot do more to them. I am
37:51
sad, but no one remarks it. The leaves of trees and plants changed
37:55
day by day, and so affection in him. In anticipation, I feel
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the dreariness of the long winter rains. The leaves are pitifully teased by the
38:07
winds. The drops on the leaves, which may vanish at any moment,
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how like they are to my own life. The sight of the leaves,
38:15
ever, reminds me strangely of my own sadness. I cannot go within,
38:21
but lie on the verandah, mayhap my end is not far off. I
38:27
feel a vague anger that others are in comfortable sleep and cannot sympathize with me.
38:32
Just now I heard the faint cry of a wild goose. Others will
38:37
not be touched by it, but I cannot endure the sound. How many
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nights alas sleepless only the calls of the wild geese. Let me not pass
38:49
the time in this way, I will open the shutter and watch the moon
38:52
declining towards the western horizon. It seems distant and serenely transparent. There is
39:00
over the earth. Together comes the sound of the morning bell and the crowing
39:05
of cocks. There will be no moment like this in past or future.
39:10
I feel that the color of my sleeves is new to me. Another with
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sane thoughts may be gazing at the pale morning moon of the long night month,
39:21
no sight is more sorrowful. Now there comes a knocking at the gate.
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What does it mean? Who passes the night with thoughts like mine?
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There is one of like mind with me, musing upon the morning moon,
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but no way to find him out. She had meant to send the last
39:43
poem only to the Prince, but when she learned that it was His Highness
39:46
himself who had come, she sent all. The Prince read and did not
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feel that his visit had been in vain. If she also had been awake
39:54
and sadly dreaming, he wrote promptly, and the letter presented while she was
40:00
gazing aimlessly. She opened it anxiously and read. First poem, She thinks
40:08
her own sleeves only are wet, but another's also are rotting. Second poem,
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Do life soon to vanish away? Hangs long suspended in forgetfulness of self
40:22
on the long blooming chrysanthemum flower. Third poem, Sleepless the call of wild
40:30
geese on the cloud track. Yet the pain is from your own heart.
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Fourth poem. There may be another with thoughts like mine, who is gazing
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toward the sky of the morning moon. Fifth poem, Although not together,
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you too were gazing at the moon, believing that I whence this morning to
40:53
your gait alas oh that gait heart to be opened. So her writing had
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not been uselessly sent towards the moon. Hidden day, she had another letter.
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After excusing himself for his late neglect, he wrote, I have an
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awkward thing to ask you. There is a lady with whom I have been
41:17
secretly intimate. She is going away to a distant province, and I want
41:22
to send her a poem which will touch her heart deeply. Everything you write
41:28
touches me, so please compose a poem for me. She was unwilling concededly
41:34
to carry out his wishes, but she thought it too prudent to refuse him,
41:38
so she wrote with the words, how can I satisfy you her poem?
41:45
In the tears of regret? Your image will linger long, even after
41:50
chilly autumn has gone by. It is painful for me to write a heartfelt
41:54
letter in your place. And on the margin she wrote, leaving you,
42:00
where can she go? For me? No other life? The prince wrote
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back, very good poem is all that I can say. I cannot say
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that you have expressed my heart Forsaking me. She wanders away, so let
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it be. Let me think of you, the unexcelled one. There is
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not another. Thus I can live on. End of Section seven,