Of Old Japan
Such nights as this exist!
As if it were for Eternity, I parted from you—
How sad was that Autumn!
At this father shed tears [of happiness] abundantly, and answered me with a poem:
That life grows dear and is lived with rejoicing
Which once was borne with hate and lamentation
My joy knew no bounds when my waiting was at an end after the supposed parting "for Eternity," yet my father said: "It is ridiculous to lead a worldly life when one is very old. I used to feel so when I saw old men, but now it is my turn to be old, so I will retire from social life." As he said it with no lingering affection for this world, I felt quite alone.
Towards the East the field stretched far and wide and I could see clearly from Mount Hiyé[1] to Mount Inari. Towards the West, the pines of the forest of Narabigaoka were sounding in my ear, and up to the tableland on which our house stood the rice-fields were cultivated in terraces, while from them came the sound of the bird-scaring clappers, giving me a homely country sentiment.
One moonlight evening I had a message from an old acquaintance who had had an opportunity to send to me, and this I sent back:
None calls upon me, or remembers me in my mountain village.
On the reeds by the thin hedge, the Autumn winds are sighing.
1037. In the Tenth month we changed our abode to the Capital. Mother had become a nun, and although
- ↑ Mt. Hiyé: 2500 ft.
