nieces who had lost their mother and had been cared for by me alone, even sleeping at night one on either side of me.
Days were spent in musing with a vacant mind. I felt as if some one were always spying on me, and I was embarrassed.[1] After ten days or so I got leave to go out. Father and mother were waiting for me with a comfortable fire in a brazier.
Seeing me getting out of my palanquin, my nieces said: “When you were with us people came to see us, but now no one’s voice is heard, no one’s shadow falls before the house. We are very low-spirited; what can 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 persons are coming and going. It seems livelier.”
Tears came to my eyes to think what virtue I could have that my little nieces made so much of me.
It would be very difficult even for a saint to dream of his prenatal life. Yet, when I was before the altar of the Kiyomizu Temple, in a faintly dreamy state of mind which was neither sleeping nor waking, I saw a man who seemed to be the head of the temple. He came out and said to me:
“You were once a priest of this temple and you were born into a better state by virtue of the many Buddhist images which you carved as a Buddhist artist. The Buddha seventeen feet high which is enthroned in the eastern side of the temple was your work. When you were in the act of covering it with gold foil you died.”
“Oh, undeservedly blessed!” I said. “I will finish it, then.”
The priest replied: “As you died, another man covered it and performed the ceremony of offerings.”
I came to myself and thought: “If I serve with all my heart the Buddha of the Kiyomizu Temple … by virtue of my prayers in this temple in the previous life …”[2]
