The Sarashina Diary: the Literary Diary of the Daughter of Sugawara Takasue from 1020 to 1059 (1)

 

     I was brought up in a far away province which lies farther than the farthest end of the Tokaido Highway.  However rustic I might have been, I somehow came to know that there are such things as romances in the world and wished to read them.  When there was nothing to do by day or at night, one tale or another was told to me by my elder sister or stepmother.  They told me how the Shining Prince Genji behaves.  They increased my longing for such stories, but how could they recite them all from memory according to my desire?

     I became very restless and got a Yakushi image made as large as myself.  When I was alone, I washed my hands and went secretly into the room and prayed to the image, humbling myself in front of the image, bowing my head down to the floor.  "Please, let me go to Kyoto, where I can find many tales.  Let me read all of them."

     When I was 13 years old, I was to be taken back to Kyoto.  On September 3rd, I was moving to Imatate first to change the route to Kyoto luckier according to the philosophy of the yin-yang.  The old house where I had played as a child was broken up.  At sunset in the foggy twilight, just as I was getting into the carriage, I looked back to the Yakushi image standing, in front of which I had bowed my head down to the floor.  I was sorry and secretly shed tears to leave Yakushi behind.

     Outside of my new house, a rude temporary, thatched one, there is no fence nor even shutters.  We hang curtains and bamboo blinds.  From that house, standing on a low bluff, a wide plain extends towards the South.  On the East and West, the sea creeps close.  It was an interesting place.  When the fogs fell, it was so charming that I rose early every morning to see them.  I felt sorry to leave the place.

     On the 15th, in heavy dark rain, we crossed out the boundary of Kazusa Province and lodged at Ikada in Shimousa Province.  Our lodging was almost submerged.  I was so afraid that I could hardly sleep.  I saw only 3 lone trees standing on a little hill in the waste.

     The next day passed as we dried our dripping clothes and waited for the others to catch up with us.

     On the 17th, we departed early in the morning, and crossed a deep river.  I heard that there lived in olden times a millionaire named Mano in the province.  He had thousand and ten thousand rolls of hemp cloth woven and dipped for bleaching in the river which now flows over the place where his residence used to stand.  4 of the large gate-posts remained standing in the river.

     Hearing the people composing poems about the place, I composed one for myself:

Had I not seen timbers of the olden times erect in the river

How could I believe

The story of that residence?

     That evening, we lodged at the beach of Kuroto.  On one side, hills stood, and, on the other, the white sand stretched far and wide.  The pinewood was dark and the moon was bright.  The soft blowing of the wind made me feel lonely.  People were pleased and composed tanka poems.  My tanka poem:

I won't fall asleep tonight.

If I did, I would never see the moon

That lights Kuroto Beach in Autumn.

     Early in the next morning, we left the place and went to the Futoi River on the boundary between Shimousa and Musashi Provinces.  We lodged at the ferry of Matsusato near the shallows upstream.  All night long, our luggage was carried over by boat a little at a time.

     My wet nurse had lost her husband and gave birth to their child at the boundary of the Provinces.  She had to go up to Kyoto separately.  I was longing for my wet nurse and wanted to go to see her.  I was brought there by my elder brother in his arms.  Our temporary lodging, however temporary it might have been, was covered with curtains to stop winds blowing in, but my nurse’s, as there was no man to take care of her, was wildly built and was covered only with reeds.  She lay in her red dress.

     The moon light came in, lighting up everything.  In the moonlight, she looked fair although she belonged to the commons.  I found her very white and pure.  She wept and caressed me, and I was loath to leave her.  My brother pulled me apart, with my heart lingering around her.  Her image remained with me, which made me sad.  I wasn’t interested in the moon, was depressed, and just went to bed .

     The next morning, we crossed the river in a ferryboat with our carriage firmly fixed in it.  Those who had come thus far on their carriages to see us off went back to Kazusa Province from the bank.  We, who were going up to Kyoto, stayed on the opposite bank for a while to see them leaving.  Those who went back to Kazusa Province and we, who stayed on the bank, all wept and grieved.  Even though I was a child, I found the scene sorrowful.

     Now, we were in Musashi Province.  The province had no charming sights.  The sand of the beaches is not white, but like mud.  The province’s fields are known for their expensive purple dyes, but only reeds and tall silver grasses grow so high that we could not see the bows of our horsemen who were forcing our way through the tall grasses.  Going through these reeds and tall grasses, we saw a ruined temple called Takeshíba-dera.  There were also the foundation-stones of the corridors.

     "What place is this?" I asked, and they answered:

     "Once upon a time, there lived a boy at Takeshiba.  He was offered to the Royal Palace by the Governor as a guard to watch the fire.  He was once sweeping the garden in front of a Princess's room and singing:

     “‘Ah, me! Ah, me! My weary doom to labour here in the Palace!

     “‘I have seven good wine-jars, and three in my province.

     “‘There where they stand, I have hung straight-stemmed gourds of the finest.

     “‘They turn to the West when the East wind blows,

     “‘They turn to the East when the West wind blows,

     “‘They turn to the North when the South wind blows, and

     “‘They turn to the South when the North wind blows.

     “‘And here I sit without watching them turning and turning.

     “‘Oh, my gourds! Oh, my wine-jars!’

     "He was singing this alone, but just then a Princess, the Emperor's favourite daughter, was sitting alone behind blinds.  She came near the blinds, and, leaning against the doorpost, listened to the man singing.  She was very curious to know what gourds looked like and how wine-jars were turning.  She pushed up the blinds, and called the guard, saying, 'Man, come over here!'  With great reverence, he drew near the balustrade.  'Let me hear once more what you have been singing.'  And he sang again about his wine-jars.  'I must go and see them, I have my own reason for saying so’, said the Princess.

     "He felt great awe, but he made up his mind, and went down towards the Eastern Province.  He feared that men would pursue them, and, that night, placing the Princess on the other side of Seta Bridge, broke a part of it.  With the Princess on his back, he arrived at Musashi Province after a seven days' and seven nights' journey.

     "The Emperor and Empress were greatly surprised when they found the Princess lost, and began to search for her.  Someone said that an Emperor's guard from Musashi Province, carrying something of exquisite fragrance on his back, fled towards the East.  So, they searched for the guard, and he was not found.  They said, 'Without a doubt, the man should have gone back to his home province.'  The Royal Government sent messengers to pursue him.  When they got to the Seta Bridge, they found it broken, and they could not go farther.  After 3 months, the messengers arrived at Musashi Province and searched for the man.  The Princess gave audience to the messengers and said:

     "’It might have been my destiny that I yearned for the man's home and made him carry me here; so he has carried me.  If the man were punished and killed, what should I do?  This is a very good place to live in.  It must have been settled before I was born that I should leave my descendants in the province.  Go back and tell the Emperor so.'  So, the messengers could not refuse her, and went back to tell the Emperor about it.

     "The Emperor said: 'It is hopeless.  Even if I punished the man, I couldn’t get back the Princess nor  bring her back to Kyoto.  He gave the order that, as long as that man of Takeshiba lives, Musashi Province is trusted to him and his paying taxes and doing labor duties are exempted.

     "In this way, a palace was built there in the same style as the Royal Palace and the Princess was placed there.  When she died, they changed the palace into a temple and named it Takeshiba-dera.  The descendants of the Princess received the family name of Musashi.  After that the guards of the watch-fire were women.” 

     We passed hills and fields, forcing our way through the reeds and tall grass.  There is the Asuda River along the border of Musashi and Sagami Provinces, where Ariwara Narihira (825-880) had composed his famous poem about oystercatchers, or capital birds, at the ferry:

As you are called capital birds,

I shall ask you

If the person I love is still alive.

     In the private collection of Narihira’s tanka poems, the river is called the Sumida River. 

     We crossed the river in a boat, and we were in Sagami Province.  From Nishitomi, the mountain range looks like folding screens with good pictures.  On the other side, we saw a very beautiful beach with waves coming and going.

     In Indian-millet Field, we journeyed along the sea shore with wonderfully white sands for 2 or 3 days.  "In Summer, Japanese pinks bloom here and make the field like pale and deep brocade.  As it is Autumn now, we cannot see them," said a man.  I saw some pinks blooming lovelyly, scattered about like dots.  The man continued, "It is funny that Japanese pinks are blooming in the Indian-millet Field," and others laughed.

     A mountain called Ashigara is covered with thick woods, which extends for 4 or 5 days.  Even before we entered the mountain, we could only have an occasional glimpse of the sky.  The woods spread beyond description and look scary.  We lodged in a hut at the foot of the mountain.  It was a dark moonless night.  I felt myself swallowed up and lost in the darkness, when 3 female singers came from nowhere.  One was about fifty years old, the second about twenty, and the third about fourteen or fifteen.  We let them sit in front of our lodging and a large paper umbrella was spread for them.  My servants lit a fire so that we saw them.  They said that they were the descendants of a famous singer called Kohata.  They had very long hair, which fell along their cheeks from their forehead.  They looked fair and stylish.  People were impressed, “They seem more like maids serving in noblemen's families.”  The singers had clear, sweet voices, and their beautiful singing seemed to reach the heavens.  All were charmed, and made the singers come closer.  One said, "The singers of the Western Provinces are not as good as them."  At this, the singers brilliantly sang impromptu, "If we are compared with those of Naniwa…"  They were pretty, with voices of rare beauty.  As they left into this fearful mountain, people missed them.  Even tears came to their eyes.  My childish heart was unwilling to leave the shelter the singers visited.

     In the next break of dawn, we crossed over Mount Ashigara.  Words cannot express my fear in the midst of the mountain.  We stepped over clouds.  Halfway over there was an open space with three trees.  Here, we saw three mallows.  People were touched with them, “In this mountain, so far from the human world, the same plants with those in Kamo Shrine are growing.”  We saw three rivers in the mountain.

     We crossed the mountain with difficulty, and stayed at Sekiyama.  Now we were in Suruga Province.  We passed the Yokobashiri Checkpoint.  Near the checkpoint in Iwatsubo, namely Rock Pot, there was an exceptionally large square rock with a hole, through which extremely clear cold water came rushing out.

     Mount Fuji is in Suruga Province.  In Kazusa Province, where I was brought up, I saw Mount Fuji far in the West.  The figure of the mountain is very unique.  The unusual mountain figure towers up, painted with deep blue, and covered with eternal snow.  The mountain looks as if it wore a dress of deep violet and a white veil over its shoulders.  From the little level place of the top, smoke goes up.  In the evening, we even saw fires flare from the top.  

     The Fuji River comes down from the mountain.  A man of the Province came up to us and told us a story:

     "One year ago, I went on an errand.  It was a very hot day, and I was resting on the bank of the river when I saw something yellow come floating down.  It came to the bank of the river and stuck there.  I picked it up and found it to be a scrap of yellow paper with phrases elegantly written on it dark in cinnabar.  Wondering what is written, I read it.  On the paper was a prophecy of the Governors of provinces to be appointed next year.  As to Suruga Province, there were written the names of two Governors.  I was astonished and wondered.  I dried the paper and kept it.  When the day of the announcement came, this paper held no mistake.  The man who became the Governor of Suruga Province died after 3 months, and the successor’s name was written next to the first governor."

     “Such and such happened.  I think that the gods assemble there on the mountain to settle the affairs of each new year.  I found it amazing.”

     Kiyomi-ga-seki Checkpoint has the sea on the left.  The checkpoint has many buildings and its fences stretch even into the sea.  We see the mountain smoke and the sea hazed.  The checkpoint has high waves.  The scene is endlessly interesting.

     We made a detour aboard a boat around Tago-no-ura Seashore, which was washed by  high waves.  

 

     We came to the ferry port of Oi River.  I found the torrent unusual, with its water white, as if thickened with rice flour.  The water ran fast.

     We went with ease over Numajiri, I became ill, and now we were in Totomi Province.  I had almost lost consciousness when I crossed the mountain pass of Sayo-no-Nakayama, where Ki Tomonori (845-907) had composed a tanka poem:

As I crossed Sayo-no-nakayama,

So you noticed me.

With my mind naked to you.

     I was quite suffering.  When we came to the bank of the Tenryu River, we had a temporary dwelling built, and stayed there several days.  I finally got better.  As the winter deepened, the wind from the river blew hard and it became intolerable.  We crossed the river and arrived at Hamana Bridge.

     When we had gone down to Kazusa Province, there had been a log bridge, but, this time, we could not find even a trace of it.  We crossed in a boat.  The bridge had been laid across an inland inlet.  The waves of the outer sea were very rough and high.  The inlet sandy shore isn’t quaint, but we saw the waves through the thick pine-trees only which stretched between us and the sea.  The waves coming and going shone like jewels and seemed as if they struck across the ends of the pine branches. The interesting sight reminded me of the tanka poem Kiyohara Motosuke (908-990) had composed:

We tied the knot, didn't we?

The waves should never strike

The ends of the pine branches.

     We headed for Kyoto and crossed over Inohana Hill, which was an unspeakably weary ascent.  Then, we came to Takashi Shore in Mikawa Province.  We passed Yatsuhashi, literally Eight Bridges.  I expected to see a long zigzag bridge composed of 8 shorter ones.  It was only a name, with no bridge and no pretty sight.

     In the mountains of Futamura, we pitched our camp under a big persimmon tree.  The fruits kept falling down throughout the night over our hut and people picked them up.

     We passed Mount Miyaji, where we saw red leaves still, although it was the end of November.  Miyaji literally means Palace Approach.

Even furious mountain winds

Must’ve spared the approach to the palace.

Red maple leaves still cling to their branches.

     The Shikasuga Ferry Port was between Mikawa and Owari.  Shikasuga literally means However.  The place name reminded me of the tanka poem Nakatsukasa (912-991) had composed:

I know, if I go, I'll be happy.

If I don't, I'll suffer.

I feel, however, anxious.

     It is amusing to think whether I should cross or not.

     We passed the Narumi Shore in Owari Province.  The evening tides were coming in, and we were afraid we could not cross when they came higher.  So, in a panic, we ran as fast as we could.

     At the border of Mino, we crossed a ferry called Sunomata, and arrived at Nogami.  There, singers came and they sang all night.  They reminded me of the singers in Ashigara.  I missed them nostalgically.

     Snow came, and, in the storm, we passed the Fuha Checkpoint, and over Mount Atsumi, having no heart to look at sights.  In Omi Province, we stayed 4 or 5 days in the house of the Okinaga Family, who are said to be the descendants of legendary Empress, Okinagatarashi. At the foot of Mount Mitsusaka, light rain fell night and day mixed with hail.  It was very melancholy.

     We left there and passed by places like Inugami, Kanzaki, Yasu, and Kurumoto, without receiving any impressions.  The lake stretched far and wide, and we caught occasional glimpses of Nade-shima and Chikubu-shima Islands.  The scenery was very pretty.  We had great difficulty at the bridge of Seta, for it had fallen in.

     We stayed at Awazu, and arrived at Kyoto, not to have our weariness from travelling seen by people, after dark on December 2nd.

     To arrive at Kyoto after dark, we left Awazu in the afternoon.  When we were near the Osaka Checkpoint, I saw the roughly hewn face of an eighteen meters tall Buddhist statue, which towered over temporarily built board fences.  Serene and indifferent to its surroundings, it stood unregarded in this deserted place; but I passed by, giving a long glance at it.  Among so many provinces through which I have traveled, the Kiyomi Checkpoint in Suruga and Osaka Checkpoint were far better than the others.  It was dark when we arrived at our residence to the west of the mansion of Princess Nagako (997-1049).