were later overtaken by Fujiwara no Tokizane, Tachibana no Suehira, and others.
Proceeding eastward from Urado along the Pacific coast of Shikoku, they reach a harbor called Ōminato the following night. Here they are detained for nine days, waiting for clear weather. After a disappointing New Year’s Day, which only serves to increase their general yearning for Kyoto, they occupy themselves in receiving visitors and composing poems.
Ninth day, second moon: Early in the morning we left Ōminato, and made for the anchorage of Naha. A large number of people gathered to see us off, determined not to leave us so long as we remain within the confines of the provincial government district.…
From now on we row farther and farther out to sea. It is for this reason that all these people gathered here to see us off. Little by little, at every stroke of the oars, the watchers standing by the shore slip away into the distance, just as we on the boats, too, grow more and more indistinct to them. On the shore, perhaps, there are things they would like to say to us. On the boats there are thoughts we wish to convey to them—but to no avail. Even so, though we can expect no reply, we compose this last poem:
No courier have we, and though with heavy hearts
We leave—perhaps they’ll never know we grieved.
Soon we pass the pine-covered beaches of Uta. Pines beyond number! How many tens of centuries have they stood there? Waves wash the roots of each tree, and from each topmost branch a crane soars into the air. We watched in tireless fascination. Someone on the boat recited this poem:
As far as the eye can see, on each pine top there rests a crane—
Each crane to each pine, perhaps, a faithful companion these thousand years!
The poem, however, cannot compare with the sight itself. As we proceed in this manner, absorbed in the scenery, night gradually draws
