Sarashina Diary: Retold in the present tense (13)

 

When I am choked with the autumn chill of the world, I make a modest retreat at Koryu-ji Temple in Uzumasa. To me, a letter arrives from a senior lady-in-waiting who serves Princess Yushi (1038–1105). While I am answering it, the sound of a temple bell carries to me, and I write to her:

Though I fled here, I cannot yet forget

The tangled troubles of my worldly life;

Hearing the twilight bell, my heart is wet

With tears of loneliness and lingering strife.

One day, I visit the residence of Princess Yushi (1038–1105), which looks as bright and peaceful as ever. I spend the time talking quietly with two congenial friends. Once back at home, the next day brings tedious hours as usual. Thinking longingly of them, I send this tanka poem:

We dwelt within the River of Tears’ deep flow,

And drenched our sleeves in sorrow long ago;

Yet now, when all those bittersweet days have passed,

Do you not yearn for memories made to last?

One of them writes back:

Although you say we shared that weeping stream,

My dry and tearless sleeves are but a dream;

For still I drift within these currents cold,

While you look back on hardships of old.

And the other writes back:

Who still would dive into this sea of grief,

To harvest from the deep some green relief,

If not to brave the waves for daily bread—

While on the quiet shore you walk instead?

My dearest friend, who has shared my innermost thoughts, with whom I have exchanged messages, and with whom I spoke of every painful, moving, and joyful matter in this world, goes down west to Chikuzen Province.

One night, when the moon is exceptionally bright, I recall that we once spent such a night at the Princess’s residence, staying awake to gaze at the moon. Yearning for that night, I lie down to sleep. I meet her in the residence just as we used to do. I awake startled. It is a dream. The moon is then near the western ridge of the mountains. I recall the poem that Ono Komachi (c. 825 – c. 900) once composed:

Was it because I fell asleep thinking of him

That my beloved appeared in my dream?

Had I only known it was a fleeting dream,

I would never have opened my eyes.

I too think, "I wish I had not awakened," and compose this poem in deep sorrow:

Waking alone to face my lonely bed,

A bitter sorrow overwhelms my mind;

To the fading moon that drifts away overhead,

I trust the yearning words I leave behind.