The Sarashina Diary: the Literary Diary of the Daughter of Sugawara Takasue from 1032 to 1039 (4)

 

     My stepmother still called herself Lady Kazusa after my father’s ex-post, the Governor of Kazusa Province.  She had a new husband visit her home.  My father thought he had to tell her that it was not suitable now:

Emperor Tenji (626-672) made it a taboo to call his name

At Asakura, where the late Empress Saimei (594-661) had passed away.

There can be a taboo even in calling names.

     Worrying about those rambling chores was all I did.  What few pilgrimages I did didn’t make me think of being an ordinary person.  Many ordinary people these days start reciting sutras at the age of 17 or 18.  Some even do religious practices.  I didn't even imagine doing them.  All I fancied was to have a noble handsome man like the Shining Prince visit me even once a year.  Like Prince Ukifune, can I be shielded in the countryside, watching flowers, red leaves, the moon, and snows?  Waiting for beautifully written love letters with loneliness and helplessness?  That was all that I had in my mind as my future course.  If my father could win any good position, I also might enter into a much nobler life.  Such unreliable hopes occupied my daily thoughts then.

     At last, my father was barely appointed Governor of Hitachi Province, very far in the East. 

He said: "I was always thinking that, if I could win a position as Governor in the neighbourhood of Kyoto, I could take care of you to my heart's content.  I would like to bring you down to see the beautiful scenery of the sea and mountains.  Moreover, I wished that you could live being attended beyond our present position.  Our Karma relation from our former worlds must have been poor.  Now, I have to go to such a distant province after waiting so long!  Last time, I brought you, who was a little child, to Kazusa Province.  When I felt even a slight ill, I was worried that, should I die, you would wander helpless in that far province.  There were many fears in a strange province, and I should have lived with an easier mind had I been alone.  As I then accompanied all my family, I could not say or do what I wanted to say or do.  I was afraid you felt sorry.  Now you are grown up.  If I should bring you there, I am not sure that I can live long enough to bring you back to Kyoto.

     “It is not so awful  to be fatherless in Kyoto, but the saddest thing of all would be to wander in an eastern province as a country woman.  There are no relatives in Kyoto upon whom we could rely to foster you, yet I cannot refuse the appointment which has been made after such a long wait.  All in all, you should remain here, and I am to depart for a long.  Oh, in what way may I provide a way for you to live in Kyoto decently!”

     Night and day he lamented, saying this and that.  I forgot all about flowers or red leaves, grieving sadly, but there was no help for it.

     He went down on July 13th, 1032.  For 5 days before he left, he could hardly visit my room, for he found it hard to see me.

     On that day, everything was in a state of confusion.  When the time for parting came, I lifted the blind and my eyes met his.  My tears dropped down.  Soon he left.  My eyes were dim with tears and I threw myself down on the floor.  A servant, who had gone to see him off, returned with a tanka poem written on a piece of paper napkin:

If I were in a high enough position,

I would never know

The sorrow of departing in the autumn in my life.

     My tears clouded my eyes, making it hard to read the poem to the end.  In my happier time, I had often composed halting tanka poems, but I had no idea what to say so far:

I have never thought of

Parting my father in this world

Even for a moment.

     Without my father, few people visited our home.  I was very lonely and forlorn, musing and guessing where he would be at every moment.  As I knew the route he was taking, I thought of him more longingly and more helplessly than ever.  From the morning and to the evening, I stayed looking towards the sky-line of the eastern mountains.

     In August, I went to Koryu-ji temple at Udzumasa to shut myself up for days.  I came upon two men's palanquins stopping in the road from Ichijo.  They must have been waiting for someone to catch up with them.  When I passed by, they sent an attendant with a half of a tanka poem:

On our way to flower-seeing, we see you.

     I was told that it would be awkward not to reply with another half of a tanka poem wittily:

As one of thousands of plants

Ripening in August.

     I went past them and stayed in the temple for seven days.  I thought of nothing but the route to the East and stopped being lost in romantic fantasies.  I prayed to the Buddha, saying, "Let us meet again peacefully."  I wished the Buddha should pity and grant my prayer.

     It was winter.  It rained all day.  In the night, winds blew terribly and turned clouds.  The sky was cleared and the moon became exquisitely bright.  Seeing the silver grasses near the house blown down by the heavy winds reminded me of my sad situation:

Dead stalks of silver grasses

Must be reminded of good Autumn days,

Blown down by the tempest in midwinter depths.

     A messenger arrived from the East.  My father wrote:

     "I made official visits to the shrines in Hitachi Province as the Governor.   On my way, I passed a wide field with a beautiful river running through it.  I found beautiful wood, which I’d like you to see.  I asked the name of the grove.  'The Grove of Longing After Children' was the answer.  Compared with my situation, I was extremely sad.  Alighting from my horse, I stood there for 4 hours.  I feel like:

The Grove of Longing After Children

Stops those who miss their children

The grove and I share the same sense of loss.

     To say something will be sadder than to read that letter, but I replied:

As you say you long after me,

I realize how heartbreaking it is for you

To travel to the East, leaving your child alone in Kyoto.

     Thus, I spent days doing nothing.  Why didn’t I think of making pilgrimages?  My mother was a person of extremely antiquated mind, and said, "Oh, dreadful is to visit Hase-dera Temple in Hatsuse!  What should you do if you were caught by someone at the Nara Hill?  Ishiyama too!  Passing Sekiyama Pass to Lake Biwa is very dreadful!  Mount Kurama is very steep, as you know.  How dreadful to bring you there!  You may go there when your father comes back."

     As my mother says so and treats me like a nuisance, I can only go to and stay at Kiyomizu-dera Temple.  My old habits of romantic indulgence were not dead yet, and I could not fix my mind on religious thoughts as I should.  It was in the equinoctial week and there was a great tumult.  It was so noisy that I was even afraid of it.  When I dozed off, I dreamt a priest in blue garments with loose brocade hood and brocade shoes was in the enclosure before the altar.  He seemed to be the intendant of the temple and said, "You are occupied with vain thoughts without knowing your unhappiness in your future," he said indignantly, and went behind the curtain.  I awoke startled, yet neither told anyone what I had dreamt, nor thought about it much.

     My mother was sorry for not bringing me to Hase-dera Temple.  Instead, she had a one-foot-in-diameter bronze mirror cast and made a monk take it for us to Hase-dera Temple in Hatsuse.  Mother told the monk to spend 2 or 3 days in the temple especially praying that a dream might be vouchsafed about the future state of me.  For that period, I was made to observe religious purity, abstaining from having meat.

     The monk came back to tell the following:

     "I was reluctant to return without having even a dream.  I was afraid I could report nothing without a dream.  After bowing many times and performing religious services, I went to sleep.  There came out from behind the curtain a graceful holy lady in beautiful garments. She, taking up the offered mirror, asked me if any letter was affixed to the mirror.  I answered in the most respectful manner, 'There was no letter.  I was told only to offer the mirror.'  'Strange!' she said.  'A letter is to be added.  Look at what is mirrored here.  It is a pity to see the image.'  She wept bitterly.  I saw the images of people turning over in lamentation.  'To see the images makes me sad, but to look at this.’  She showed me another image.  There, the bamboo screens were fresh green and many-coloured garments were revealed below the lower edges of them.  Plum and cherry blossoms were in flower.  Nightingales were singing from tree to tree.  She said, ‘It makes me happy to see the image.’  I had such a dream." 

     I did not even listen to his story nor question him as to how things appeared in the mirror.

     I wasn’t devout but some people told me to pray to the Goddess Amaterasu.  At first, I wondered where she was, and if she was a Shinto Goddess or a Buddha.  As I matured, I asked someone about her, and she said, "She is a goddess, and is in Ise Province.  The goddess is also worshipped by the Governor of Kii Province.  Above all, she is worshiped at the inner shrine in the Imperial Palace."  I could not, by any means, visit Ise.  How could I bow before the Imperial shrine?  I could never be allowed to go there.  I had a helpless idea to pray to the light in the sky.

     A relative of mine became a nun, and entered Sugaku-in Temple.  In winter, I sent her a tanka poem:

Even tears arise for your sake

When I think of the mountain village

Where snow-storms will be raging.

     She replied:

I seem to see your kindness

To Come to me through the dark thicket

Of the Summer plants and leaves.

     My father, who had gone down to Hitachi Province, came back at last.  He settled down at Nishiyama, namely West Hill, to change the arrival to Kyoto luckier according to the philosophy of the yin-yang, and we all went there.  We were very happy.  As the moon was bright at night, we talked all the night through and I composed:

In contrast to tonight’s delight,

How sad was that Autumn night

When I was afraid I parted from you for good.

     At this, my father shed tears awfully, and answered me with a tanka poem:

I once disliked my life

For my dreams had never come true.

But our reunion makes my life sweet.

     My joy was boundless, waiting and waiting for the safe return of my father.  Yet, my father said, "When I saw old and weak people leading their worldly lives, I found it ridiculous.  Now, it is my turn to be old and to retire."  As he said it with no lingering affection for the society, I felt quite helpless.

     From the temporary dwelling in Nishiyama, the field stretched far and wide towards the East.  I clearly saw mountains stretch from Mount Hiyei in the north to Mount Inari in the south.  In the South, the pine tree forest of Narabi Hill sounded as if they were close to my ears.  Between the hill and our dwelling, something called “rice-fields” were cultivated up to the hillside, and the bird-scaring clappers sounded from them, giving me a homely country sentiment.  On moonlight evenings, I enjoyed watching the beautiful scenery all night.

     I had an old acquaintance who I hadn’t heard from since I moved to Nishiyama, which was far from the town.  She had a chance to send a message to me and asked me how I was.  I was surprised with the message:

Besides you, who remembers me and calls upon me

In the mountain village, whose silver grasses

Are only visited by the Autumn winds?

     The Empress, Fujiwara Genshi (1016-1039), died September 19th, 1039, her husband, Emperor Go-Suzaku (1009-1045), married Fujiwara Seishi (1014-1068), on December 9th in the same year.

     In October, our family moved to the town.  My mother became a nun.  Although she lived in the same house, she shut herself up in a separate room.  My father rather treated me as a householder.  I felt helpless to see him shunning all society and lived as if he had hidden himself in the shade.

     Princess Yushi (1038-1105), the 1st daughter of Genshi and the 3rd daughter of the emperor, lived in the residence of her grandfather, Fujiwara Yorimichi (992-1074).  Her waiting-ladies heard about me through my distant relative, and called me to the residence, saying it would be better to be with her than passing idle helpless days.

     My old-fashioned parents thought the court life would be very unpleasant, and had me pass my time at home, but others said, "People nowadays go out as ladies-in-waiting at the Court, and then fortunate opportunities naturally come.  Why not have her try it?"  So, my parents reluctantly sent me to the residence.

     I went to the residence for one night as a trial period.  I was dressed in eight-layered robes of deep black vermillion colours, in light-and-shade one-by-one contrast, and, over them, I wore the outer flowing robe of deep-red silk.

     My mind was absorbed in romances, and I had few relatives to socialize with.  I was always in the shadow of my antiquated parents, and was accustomed not to go out but to see the moon and flowers.  So, when I left home, I felt as if I were not me nor were I in the real world.  I left the residence at daybreak.

     I had often fancied in my countrified mind that I should hear more interesting things for my heart's consolation than living fixed in my parents' house.  In reality, I felt awkward in the residence in everything I did, and I thought it sad, but there was no use in complaining.

     In December, I went to the residence again.  I was given my own room.  I  was to stay there for several days.  Sometimes, I visited the princess’s area to work night duty.  On those nights, among strangers, I could hardly sleep.  I felt uncomfortable and spent nights mindfully of others.  I sobbed silently.  I left the area far before dawn.  All day long, I thought of my father, who was old and weak.  He counted on me.  He spent days face to face with me.  But I missed him and was concerned about him.  I remembered, with grief, my nieces who had lost their mother and had been cared for by me alone, even sleeping at night one on either side of me.  I spent days half-heartedly.  I felt as if someone were spying upon me, and I felt very ill at ease.

     After 10 days or so, I got leave to go out.  My father and mother were waiting for me with a comfortable fire in a brazier.  Seeing me getting out of my palanquin, my parents said, "When you were with us, people visited us, and servants were in our house.  These days, no voice is heard, none is seen in front of the house.  We are very lonely and lonesome.  What will you do for us who must pass days like this?"  It was pitiful to see them cry when they said it.  The next morning, they sat before me, saying, "As you are here, many people are in and out of the house.  It is much livelier."  Tears came to my eyes to think what virtue I could have that my parents made so much of me.

     It is said to be very difficult even for an ascetic to dream of his previous life.  Yet, when I was undecided about which course of my life I should go, I had a dream that I was in front of the altar in the Kiyomidzu-dera Temple and that I saw a man who seemed to be the head of the temple.  He came out and said to me, "You were once a monk of this temple and you were born into a higher-ranking family by virtue of carving many Buddhist statues as a Buddhist artist.  The 17 feet tall Buddha statue which is enshrined in the eastern side of the temple was your work.  When you were covering it with gold leaf, you died."

     "Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that!" I said.  "Then, I will foil the statue for him."

     The priest replied, "As he died, another man foiled it and others performed the consecration of the statue."

     After seeing the dream, I thought, "If I go worshipping at Kiyomizu-dera Temple with all my heart, by virtue of my prayers in the temple in my previous life, something good will naturally happen."  It is no use crying over spilled milk, but I didn’t visit Kiyomizu-dera Temple and neglected the dream.

     The Imperial Court held the annual ceremony of reciting the names of the 3,000 Buddhas in the Inner Palace from December 19th to 21st.  After the ceremony, noble families held their personal annual ceremony of reciting the names of the 3,000 Buddhas in their residences.  On December 25th, 1039, when Yushi held her personal annual ceremony of reciting the names of the 3,000 Buddhas in her residence, I was invited to the ceremony.  I went to the residence, thinking, “Just for one night.”

     About 40 waiting-ladies were there, wearing white inner robes one over others and the same outer flowing robe of deep-red silk.  I sat behind my introducer, in the shadows of many waiting-ladies.  I left before daybreak.

     Heaps of snow were scattered.  The moon shone brightly and freezingly at dawn.  The moon light dimly illuminated the sleeves of my outer flowing robe of deep-red silk, which looked as if they were wet.  On my way home:

The year is drawing to a close.

The night is drawing to its end.

The moon light on my sleeve is fleeting like my life is.

     I started working this way.  I thought I would be used to working in the residence.  I was occupied with my parents, but as I wasn’t regarded to be narrow-minded, I thought I would be counted on and be favored like other witing-ladies.  It is puzzling of my parents, however, to confine me in the marriage with Tachibana Toshimichi (1002-1058).  That could hardly make our life conditions sparkling or well-off.  Judging from my trifling and frivolous romantic mind, my husband was very disappointing and far from satisfactory.  I unconsciously said to myself and passed my days:

I picked thousands of parsley leaves.

No leaf gave me even a dewdrop

To satisfy my thirst.

     Afterwards, I was busy doing odd jobs and I forgot about romantic stories.  My mind became utterly plain and steady.  I wondered why I had spent my years and months idly spending my time day in and day out.  I hadn’t engaged in religious practices nor visited temples and shrines.  I had daydreamed about my romances, but what I had imagined wasn’t realistic.  Could there be anyone like the Shining Prince?  No Kaoru Genji appeared in front of me to keep me in Uji in this world.  How crazy I had been!  What trivial and trifling things I had had in my mind!  I thought so from the bottom of my heart, but the regret and remorse didn’t lead me to live diligently.

     The people in Yushi’s residence told me that they didn’t believe I truly wanted to shut myself up in my house.  They often called me.  Once, they called my niece on purpose.  I had no alternative but to let her go sometimes and  my niece took me with her.  With my niece, I was never too arrogant to expect an unreliable wish as I had before.  Veteran waiting-ladies wore very confident expressions about anything.  I wasn’t seen as very inexperienced but wasn’t treated as skillful.  Sometimes, I was treated like a guest.  My position was uncertain and ambiguous.  I wasn’t wholly or solely relied on.  I didn’t feel envious of other valued waiting-ladies.  I felt rather at ease.  I went to the residence when I felt it was suitable.  I talked with waiting-ladies who had time to kill.  When they had happy events, elegant events, or interesting events, I refrained from maneuvering tactfully or standing out.  I just tried to listen to formal and superficial matters.

     When Princess Yushi visited the Inner Palace in 1042, I accompanied her.  The moon before the daybreak was very bright.  I remembered that the Goddess Amaterasu is enshrined in the palace.  I should worship her on such an occasion.  Actually, in April, when the moon was bright, as I knew a lecturer’s wife, I secretly and personally visited the palace, guided by her.  In the very dim lantern’s light, she was very old and looked as if she was possessed by the goddess.  She was a very knowledgeable and well-informed waiting-lady.  She didn’t seem to be a human but appeared as if she had descended from heaven.

     Next night, Yushi and her waiting-ladies, including me, visited the Inner Palace.  We were in Fujitsubo, namely Wisteria House, which was allocated to Yushi, and which was located in  the north of the palace.  We had eastern doors opened and looked at the bright moon, chatting together.  It sounded that Fujiwara Seishi (1014-1068), to whom Umetsubo, namely Plum House, was allocated, and which was located in the north of Fujitsubo, was elegantly and gracefully visiting where the emperor was to sleep.  Seishi married the emperor after Yushi's mother, Fujiwara Genshi (1016-1039), died.  We said, if Genshi were alive, it would be Genshi not Seishi who visited the emperor elegantly and gracefully.  I was very deeply touched by the imagination:

The heaven’s gate is in the sky.

That reminds the moon in the sky that the late empress

Used to pass through the palace’s gate.

     In winter, on the moonless night, it didn’t snow and stars’ lights brighted the crystal-clear sky from corner to corner.  All night, I talked with the waiting-ladies of Yushi’s father.  Dawn broke and they left one by one.  One of them composed:

We spent a moonless winter night together,

Without seeing any flower.

I wonder why I miss the night so much.

     It was interesting that the waiting-lady felt the same as I did:

The crystal-clear sky froze my sleeves,

Which haven’t melted yet.

The frozen sleeves will make me cry tonight.

     When I worked night duty in Yushi’s residence, the waterfowls in the pond cried and fluttered all night.  Their sounds woke me up and I said to myself:

As I can’t sleep well on night duty,

So the birds can’t sleep on the water,

With the frost on their wings hardly dust off.

    Another waiting-lady who lay beside me heard my tanka poem and composed:

Imagine what I feel,

Who have night duties regularly!

How often I have tried to dust off the frost on me!

     Another day, my waiting-lady companions and I were chatting together with our rooms’ sliding doors open.  One of them invited her superior who was waiting upon the princess.  As she sent inviting messages several times, the superior replied, “If you need me urgently, I will go there.”  I sent a tanka poem with a dead silver grass at hand:

Our arms are as loose as winter silver grass,

After beckoning you to come over here.

Do as you like, like silver grass in the wind.

 

     The waiting-ladies who could see the court nobles seemed to be fixed upon.  Nobody cared whether a simple-hearted country woman like me existed or not.  On a very dark night in the beginning of October, when sweet-voiced reciters were to read sutras throughout the night, another waiting-lady and I went out to the entrance door of the hall to listen to it.  After talking, we sat nodding and napping.  When I noticed Minamoto Sukemichi (1005-1060), whose father had worked with my father in 1001, had come to go to the hall.  "It is awkward to run away to our room to call eligible waiting-ladies.  Let’s remain here and let it be as it will."  So said my companion and I sat beside her listening.

     He spoke gently and quietly.  Nothing was regrettable about him.  "Who is the other lady?" he asked my companion.  He said nothing rude or amorous like other men, but talked delicately of sad or sweet things of the world, and many a phrase of his with a strange power enticed me into conversation.  “I didn’t think there would be someone strange to me in the Inner Palace yet,” said he.  He seemed curious about me and did not seem inclined to go away soon.

     There was no starlight, and a gentle shower fell in the darkness.  Its sound on the leaves was very lovely.  "The more deeply beautiful is the night," he said; "the full moonlight would be too dazzling."  Discoursing about the beauties of Spring and Autumn, he continued, "Although every season has its charm, pretty is the spring haze.  Then, the sky being tranquil and overcast, the face of the moon is not too bright.  The moon seems to be floating on a distant river.  At such a time, the calm spring melody of the lute is exquisite.

     "In Autumn, on the other hand, the moon is very bright.  Even when there are mists trailing over the horizon, we can see things as clearly as if they were at hand.  The sounds of winds, the voices of insects: all sweet things seem to melt together.  When, at such a time, we listen to the autumnal music of the koto, we think little of the Spring.

     "In Autumn, we think that way, but in winter, when even the sky looks frozen all over, it’s magnificently cold, and the snow covers the earth, with its light mingling with the moonshine.  Then the notes of hitchiriki vibrate in the air and we forget Spring and Autumn." And he asked us, "Which season stays in your mind?"

     My companion answered in favour of Autumn and I, not being willing to imitate her, replied with a tanka poem:

In the pale green night,

Flowers all melt into one like the soft haze,

And the spring moon looks hazy.

     He, after repeating my poem to himself over and over, said, "Then you give up Autumn?” and replied:

If I am to live after tonight,

I will consider the Spring

To be a memento from you.

     My companion, who favoured Autumn, said:

Others seem to give their hearts to Spring.

Even if so,

I shall be alone gazing at the autumn moon.

     He seemed deeply interested, and, being embarrassed, said, "Even in Tang China, poets were divided between for Spring and for Autumn.  Your decisions make me think that there must be some personal reasons which make you judge in your way.  When I feel deeply unhappy or feel heartily delightful, my mind inclines to be dyed with the colours of the sky, moon, or flowers of that moment.  I desire much to know how you inclined to Spring or Autumn.

     “The moon of a winter night is given as an instance of dreariness.  As it is very cold at night, I have never seen it intentionally.  I went down to Ise Province in November, 1025, to be present as the imperial messenger at the coming-of-age ceremony on December 5th for Prince Senhi (1005-1081), who was Saigu, an unmarried female member of the Japanese Imperial Family who was sent to serve at Ise Grand Shrine.  I thought about leaving for Kyoto in the early dawn, so I went to take leave of the Princess.  Days of snow accumulated, and the moon lighted the snow very brightly.  As I was on my journey, I felt very uneasy.

     "Her residence was,compared with other residences, awful as I regarded it holy.  They called me into an adequate room.  There was a waiting-lady who started working there sometime between 969 and 984 when Emperor Enyu (959-991) reigned.  She looked very holy and ancient.  She, in a very refined manner, told of the things of long ago with tears.  She brought out a well-tuned Japanese Biwa lute.  The music did not sound like anything happening in this world.  I regretted that day should even dawn, and was touched so deeply that I had almost forgotten about Kyoto.  Ever since then, the snowy nights of winter remind me of that scene.  I have never missed going out and gazing at the moon, sometimes even bringing brazier.  You certainly have your own reasons why you like your favorite season.  Hereafter, as the matter of course, every dark night with gentle rain will touch my heart.  I feel this has not been inferior to the snowy night at the residence of Saigu."

     With these words, he departed and I thought he could not have known who I was. 

     In August, the next year, Prince Yushi went again to the Inner Palace, which had entertainment throughout the night.  I did not know that he was present at it, and I passed that night in my own room in Fujitsubo House.  When I looked out in the early morning, opening the sliding doors on the corridor, I saw the morning moon very faint and beautiful.  I heard footsteps, with some of them reciting sutras.  The one who was reciting the sutra stopped in front of the entrance of the house, and gave a greeting to the house.  As only I was in the house, I replied.  He, suddenly remembering, exclaimed, "That night of softly falling rain I do not forget, even for a moment!  I yearn for one."  As the situation did not permit me many words, I composed:

Why do you remember so much

Of that gentle winter shower on the leaves

In the atmosphere of the moment?

     I had scarcely said so when people came up.  I stole back soon.

     After the evening, I went back home.  I heard that, the other day, he visited my companion, who had compared Spring and Autumn with me before, and that he left her his tanka poem composed in reply to my tanka poem.  According to hearsay, he said, "If there be such a tranquil night as that of the winter shower, I would like in some way to make her listen to my lute, playing all the songs I remember."

     I wanted to hear him playing, and waited for the fit occasion, but there was none, ever.

     In the next spring, one tranquil evening, I heard that he came to the Princess's residence.  I crept out of my room with my companion, but there were many people visiting and many waiting-ladies in the residence.  I stopped creeping out and turned back.  He must have had the same mind as me.  He had come because it was such a tranquil night, but he returned because it was noisy.

The sounds of whirling currents

Tempted a sailor to sail out.

Does a beach fisher share the same mind as the sailor?

 

     Having composed the tanka poem, I had nothing more to do.  His personality was very honest and sincere.  He was not just another man, and time passed, without his approaching me or my approaching him.