and I passed that night in my own room. When I looked out in early morning, opening the sliding doors on the corridor, I saw the morning moon very faint and beautiful. I heard footsteps and people approached—some reciting Sutras. One of them came to the entrance, and addressed me. I replied, and he, suddenly remembering, exclaimed, “That night of softly falling rain I do not forget, even for a moment! I yearn for it.” As chance did not permit me many words I said:
What intensity of memory clings to your heart?
That gentle shower fell on the leaves—
Only for a moment our hearts touched.
I had scarcely said so when people came up and I stole back without his answer.
That evening, after I had gone to my room, my companion came in to tell me that he had replied to my poem: “If there be such a tranquil night as that of the rain, I should like in some way to make you listen to my lute, playing all the songs I can remember.”
I wanted to hear it, and waited for the fit occasion, but there was none, ever.
In the next year one tranquil evening I heard that he had come into the Princess’s palace, so I crept out of my chamber with my companion, but there were many people waiting within and without the palace, and I turned back. He must have been of the same mind with me. He had come because it was so still a night, and he returned because it was noisy.
I yearn for a tranquil moment
To be out upon the sea of harmony,
In that enchanted boat.
Oh, boatman, do you know my heart?
So I composed that poem—and there is nothing more to tell. His personality was very excellent and he was not an ordinary man, but time passed, and neither called to the other. …
