his years—was amazed to discover that, as our boat moves, the mountains appear to move with us. He composed this poem:
Viewed from a moving boat, even mountains move—
But do the mountain pines know this?
It is a fitting poem for a child. Today the sea is rough. Around the rocks the foam is like driving snow, and the waves themselves are flowers in bloom:
A wave is but a single thing, we’re told; but from its hue
You’d think it was a mixture—flowers and snow!
Twenty-third day: The sun appears, but is soon obscured by cloud. Since we have been told that this particular area is infested by pirates, we pray for the protection of the gods and Buddhas. …
Twenty-sixth day: Being told again (with what truth, I do not know) that pirates are on our tracks, we started out at about midnight, and on our way made offerings to the gods. The pilot cast our paper charms into the sea, and as they drifted off to the east he cried: “In the same direction in which these offerings drift, vouchsafe that this vessel may speed!” Hearing this, a young girl made the poem:
Blow steadily, wind, behind our boat, even as you blow
These charms offered to the ocean gods.
At about this time the wind was good, and the pilot—with an air of self-importance, and with evident relief—ordered the sails to be raised. Hearing his words of command we women, young and old alike, were overjoyed, feeling that Kyoto is not far off now. …
The next two days are stormy, and the boats remain in harbor—the place is not specified, but it is presumably somewhere in the region of the present city of Tokushima. On the twenty-ninth day of the second moon they move on to Naruto, and the following day they make for Awaji Island and the mainland.
Thirtieth day: The wind and rain have stopped. Having heard that pirates operate only by day, we started at about midnight, rowing
