Pathway to Japanese Literature

Dedicated to the Translator of Melancholy

Preface

I．The poetic drafts collected in this small volume were works previously published in magazines such as *Taiyō* and *Myōjō* along with two or three others；here，certain lines or stanzas were revised and edited for publication．

I. Among these collected pieces, works such as "Small Bird" and "Starry Eyes" were among the oldest compositions, while many others dated from the autumn before last onward.
Only "Song of the Spiritual Bird" had not yet been made public; this I considered my most recent work.

I had devoted some consideration to matters of poetic form; however, this was not to willfully establish novelty for its own sake.

I. The cover and illustrations have been graciously provided by my friend Ms. Yamashita Yūka.

April 1903, Written by the Author

*Dokugen Aika* (Fifteen Poems)

Appended Poems (Three)

I.

Would be in vain

In the long shadows of a pathless low grove
Your song of wandering may yet resound—
To sing—it is because this fire within one's breast burns high,
To wander—is it from weariness of worldly paths?

Though starlight glows in night's celestial dwellings,
No pillar stands carved by time's raging tides—
How much less where spirits bend and rise across fields—
How could one convey this marrow-seeping loneliness?

You who now race down life's fleeting path—
Evening shadows shift sudden—tears run dry—
Though brief life's fountain drains away—
What pride could you have claimed to know?

Were it not for relying on holy grace,
The fire in the breast and the song's cry would both be in vain.

II.

Holy Vegetable Garden

The vegetable garden from which I take my heart's nourishment—truly,
These barren thoughts I daily cultivate.

Once when humble greenery blazed here,
Though my body languishes in dreamlike torpor,
At times sinking into terror—the sorrowful realm's
Great wind of hell blows fierce and wild,
There indeed grow life's leaves, all withered,
Though joys and cherished hopes fade vainly away,
Ah those very plants—(wingless yet
Like a whispering dove)—through their fragrance:
The spring that dried now flows again, irrigating,
Ah once more when desolate soil grows fertile,

Praising the unending flowers and grasses of love,
To the duty of the Holy Vegetable Garden, I will go alone.

III

Roses Remembered

Golden dawn—how radiant you remain,

Steeping thin mist with fragrance—shall they bloom?

I shall not lament; though standing solitary for my sake—

In contemplation’s light does clarity dwell—is this not truth?

I shall not lament; though rooted in autumn’s wake I linger,

Along this lane—(this rose-trodden path of yore)—

Two souls dreaming love’s dream in this world once more—

Ah! Should they now bloom silent and bid farewell?

The maiden’s hands—pure tears trembling upon them—

The youth mourns parting’s distant shadow—

Whispers too painful resemble frost.
This memento—is this the flower? When plucked,
Silent in reflected hues—how inevitable,
Passing unknowing of those two—surely no lament remains.

IV

Parting

At the mention of parting, your smiling countenance,

At the very moment of parting, why is that?

Is it the sin of this glowing countenance—the world, the desires,

Hope too, in that once-shining light,

In the current of the abyss where eyes’ color clears,

In the intricate pattern of your resplendent voice,—once I relied

Though my own happiness knew no bounds,

Ah, could there be sin in your countenance?

When the white sun reflects off the rose flowers,

Crimson without even a turbulent shadow

The color likely shines and reflects upon your countenance.

Is this truly an eternal countenance? The jealous flowers—
Even if I dismiss this glorious jest,
Farewell, garden of love; farewell, you.

V

Behold now in stillness
Behold now in stillness, upon the garden’s white wall—

The shadow of a single poplar branch was reflected.

That shadow did not vanish instantly—those blue waves.

Hide yourself in the dark depths of the sea—
The shadow—once more—as light's radiance pierces through,
Beholding this dazzling white entanglement,
In that ceaseless struggle of sinking and rising,
The heart swells yet withers—uncontainable.
Bearing fate's deep-rutted traces,
When unseen chariots echo with revelry's scent—

The song ceased but a fleeting moment—when one reflected, indeed,

Is this the world’s cruel lash—the shadow upon the wall—
Strike with your whip—though you manifest in vain—
In days when flower gardens wither, this endures eternal.

VI

Love in the Transient World

Yearning is lifted by a mighty force,

That thought, etched through ceaseless sighs,

Do you not know? In the beginning, beyond this world's wilderness,
The sorrowful seeds scattered in respite's shadow.
Those seeds dreamed the dream depicted yesterday,
Today too they grew into a burning fire indeed,
What was hidden was the birth of a deep flame—
Who could fully know the original heart?
If flowers and plants thus grow and emit fragrance,
Ah, once more the jesting bird—how few days did you dwell,
Plucking flower buds to fly away—was this love,
When that most exquisite happiness was swiftly pecked away—

In the heart remains a visage’s shadow—what resists erasure,

Lips trembling, eyes moist with unshed tears.

VII

Good Tide

If the good tide flows out and does not return,
To gaze upon this empty course would be in vain—

The hearts of lovers surge like waves—
Whispered auguries leave no respite in this fleeting world.
Though evening finds their hands entwined,
Life’s enduring loneliness packs its fragrant weight—
He who would speak strains to loose his thoughts,
This plea to listen—let it be swiftly scorned.
When white light wheels through heaven’s seat,
Here lie dark traces where all things fell—
Two who loved made one—ah, just so.

Which one erodes—when regrets foam and surge,
The small jar of love—agate and lapis lazuli—sinks,
Darkness seals—the eternal oceanic expanse.

VIII

Lotus Illusory Realm

My breast holds pond waters stilled, and at times—
Here the spirit grows as crimson lotuses,
In stealth, O you—at this shore's water-edge—
Seek life's fragrance within illusions profound.
Now sound itself grows faint—the great lotus'
Bud's dream awakens, yearning toward someone.

“To the far shore—you, southward, to the green land,
“To beneath the sky ablaze with passion’s hues.”——
If the voice thus entices so ardently,

You try to dissuade—'Farewell to that place,

"To the homeland of the flame's love's heart!"—

Listen once more—ah, thrice again—to its utterance,

“The place where the soil of Paradise Nirvana grows fragrant—
“May the seeds of never-ceasing joy bloom as eternal flowers!”

IX

Grass Mountain

Grass Mountain—its verdant blades fragrant and swaying,
Radiant sunlight enveloped it ceaselessly—
When in quietude a dream was granted and clung to my being,
Ah, my very self became but an empty shadow.
This hollow shadow—the depths of my heart,

Thoughts dissolving into light—profoundly joyful
Along the path returning from slumber’s realm,
With a faint smile, I found such a beloved flower.
O my day, circle and strike the Takaha flames—
From Grass Mountain’s edge of primordial chaos—
Behold—the form now cleft open, is it not grace?
O flower of stamen-fragrance deeply known—maiden,

If I hold [it] to my flickering breast—this is my world’s
What manner of love is this? Ah, once more I dream.

X

You too passed.

Suddenly my self changed—if not so,

Voiceless joy—raising hands high,

“Behold this passing shadow—come,” someone points—

The endlessly shifting dream unfurls.

Flowing these paving stones, the capital’s main road,

The scent of sake, the colors of garments swirling chaotically—

How strange—even here, for a moment, nature’s
The high peaks’—the vast plain’s power seemed gathered here.
Ah, when I now looked upon the clamorous streets,
The figures of people coming and going were tinged with faint light.
It resembled clouds wrapped in the dawn’s morning sun.

O seasoned one, there you stand at this moment,
Having briefly drawn forth soil of scorching abundance—
As flowers and herbs release their fragrance, you too have passed.

XI

What I Rely On Is Love—I

On the shore of the world’s sea of unending strife—

The shadowed curtain does not descend—what might one do?

The tide sank forlornly, the waves reached dusk—

The sound of oars—may it now decay—Ah, my day’s—

O glory of life, O suffering—have you utterly perished?

In the end, this body’s sin cannot be purified.

Descending the path thick with thorns of memory,

In eternal darkness unceasing—must I wander under this torment?

What I rely on—what I rely on is love, through you.

The scarcely traversed path through the wilds, by the rugged shore—

O traveler of fleeting life, find fortune if but briefly,

The traveler entered the shade where the auspicious tree of hope sprouts in vibrant hues—

Is this a dream? If the traveler were to depart this world of manifest thin mist—

That sky where your light shines in radiant rivalry.

XII

What I Rely On Is Love—II

At that moment my body was here—here in the realm of stars'
Beyond the path I had circled countless times—there it must lie.
Truly did that golden ring trace its path through the void.

Before I knew it, I had crossed over—(having dreamed thus,
in twilight wandering alone)—how untimely,
in my chest—the sound of the mortal world’s tumultuous waves—
still conveying those fluctuations—within my body, swiftly
the holy garment of the pure white radiant divine soul.
What I rely on—what I rely on is love, through you.
To cast off earthly sorrows—there,

The faith that faintly appeared in dreams,

This dazzling day—in heaven it is unraveled and known,—

Behold here—the pulse of eternal life filled with vital energy,

The advance of aeons—the eternal shadow of ageless love.

XIII

What I Rely On Is Love—III

Why do I ask again of tears once shed—
Have you come to know, O you who in the world’s darkness—
O dream of fragrance withered—that day now past,
The brief joy’s vow left unfulfilled at last?

O commemorative flowers and grasses—your shadows cast,
Memories—a forest deep and vast—
On that day when black-plumed anguish strayed—my own
Tears you poured upon your form when left alone.

Truly—ah truly—it must have been sorrow’s dew,
O tears, O brine—yet through them, love’s height shines true—

That very droplet—did even you rely on it?
——
O small grasses and flowers, today indeed offer up your praises—

Freeing themselves from the desolate divide between darkness and shadow,
this shore where light overflows from the heavenly spring.

XIV

Fate

If fate were to seize him now—

The twin wheels of anguish and dread would resound,

If fate toys with him once more,

How unhealable becomes jealousy’s shadow-pain!

In this traveler’s inn of mortal brevity,

The trodden path—wilderness grasses pierce flesh,

If temptation dwells here, then how futilely—
Do they wander, unaware they are sacrifices to oblivion?
“Pray, my followers—this alone—”
Is death this hand of fate—who can know?
(Ah, the sound of prayers I hear!) The world is dark.

O evening that knows sin—here my bewildered self’s

Whither goes the swift wind of the innermost soul,

How too will the flame of life perish in him?

XV

*Vestiges of Tenpyō*

(Illustration by Mr. Fujishima Takeji)

Is it a thousand years that have passed, or dust—my delicate woman,

What nature is this profound fragrance emanating from her gaze—

The world returned once more to day, quietly whispering,

Mr. Tsunehisa was captivated by the flower.

A gale fluttered its wings, circling the void for a fleeting moment.

Ah, in that very moment it was said people perished,—

Do not be marred—the white-silver waves that play mystic tones.
Your legacy knows no bounds.

Come now, you—play the koto; Aomizunuma too,

Takakusa Village too—truly this is Shin-Ōji Avenue,—

Even stubborn ore is art; beneath a compassionate countenance,

Luxury and praise, and indeed, love and song—

All those are by your hand—of young paulownia trees—

Purple, moistened by summer—a garden of rhythmic harmony.

○

Morning Star

(Kiitsu)

Morning Star, I would meet your constancy—

Hanging high in the night sky, shining forlornly

The persimmon leaves’ eyelids opened wide—that nature’s
With the unceasing wakefulness of the hermit’s bearing,
They traversed the rocky shores of the inhabited world, performing purification rites.
The holy monk advanced his sacred task, guarding the sea,
And now, snow lay thick upon the mountain ranges and marshlands.
Though it was not that they gazed upon the new soft veil――
No—be that as it may—to Tsunehisa with eternal constancy,
The small pillow of your ripened breast
To touch that which eternally rose as soft waves,
In the sweet anguish of eternity, the heart awakened,
From time to time, I wished to hear that gentle breath,

Even affection shifts to reality—yet in dreams I would die.

○

*Sudden Light*

(Rossetti)

How many days must I gaze upon you—my lover,

The bright sun as incense altar of my eye’s essence—your

That face, that very visage, by your side

When comes the time to cherish love’s prayers known,

Unwashed twilight—(are we merely two?)

Kissing intimately, whispering sweetly, speaking tenderly,

Evening shadows envelop your hazy form,

When shall my soul’s lord-spirit guard with divine gaze?

Ah you my love—if I see you no more henceforth,

Your body—even its shadow fallen earthward ceasing—

If even the gaze harbored in the spring were absent—
How might my life resound at dusk-mountain’s base?
Hope’s fallen leaves perish on whirlpool shores,
Death’s unceasing wings beat through storm winds.

○

Hope

(Rossetti)

Vain wishes and vain regrets—in the end,

When hand in hand we go to die and all turns vain,

How shall I console this pain that knows no respite from memory,

How make one forget what cannot be forgotten?

Is peace still an elusive hidden spring,

If the soul remains unpurified—straight to the verdant field's edge—

The source of life's sweet fountain's spray,

Could one pluck the amulet of dew-drenched blossoms?

Ah, my revered spirit's golden sky,

Amidst flowers whose sacred stamens unfurl

When one peers at Tokoyo's hidden divine blessings,

Ah, would that this futile secret hymn were not—

If only that single name "Hope" existed—
If only those words alone would suffice—

*Song of the Spiritual Bird*

If there be a hand to wield the chisel, let it grasp and strain its strength,
If one knows the string’s voice, let them pluck its cord.
Ah, ask not—
“From what realm came that bird?”

Yesterday’s lightning scorched the clouds; today’s sun blazes—
Having come once, it departs not from the stone.
Ah, debate not—
“Why does that bird refuse flight?”

The bird’s form stands vivid—an emerald orb’s
Seed akin to blossoms unfurled.
Ah, doubt not—
“Is that Spiritual Bird so rare beneath heaven?”

The Spiritual Bird’s eyes—should but a day remain, upon that day

The shadow of human eyes resurrected and shining.
Ah, do not doubt—
“What proof is there of that Spiritual Bird?”
Alone, without friends, adorned and rising in Ōmine,
Nor was there a morning when it unfurled its tail feathers again.
Ah, do not point—
“Does that Spiritual Bird sleep thus?”
The sound of its song went unheard; after how many days would its voice sing again?
The bird was silent and dwelt alone.
Ah, do not mock—
“Has that Spiritual Bird perished?”
Though its wings (who could say?) brimmed with radiance,

In one night, the phantom circled the peak.

Ah, do not doubt—

"Is that Spiritual Bird but a dream?"

If one feels wavering in their chest, let them suppress the tremors,

Never again shall the Spiritual Bird return to this world.

Ah，do not grieve—

“Where has that bird vanished？”

Sada no Ōkami

In Kagagasaki there exists a cave, approximately ten jō in height (about 30 meters), with a circumference of roughly five hundred and two hiro (approximately 755 meters), accessible from the east, west, and north.

This is the so-called site where Sada no Ōkami was divinely born. At the time of his birth, the bow and arrows were lost. Then Kisakakahihime no Mikoto—divine child of Ancestral Deity Kamimusubi—prayed: “For my divine child Masurao-no-Kami’s divine seat to be established, may the lost bow and arrows appear.” At that moment, a horn bow flowed out with the water. The divinely born child proclaimed, “This is not my bow,” and cast it away. Then a golden bow flowed forth. He waited to retrieve it and shot through the dark, oppressive cavern with a cry. Thereupon Kisakakahihime enshrined herself at this site. Even now, when people pass near this cave, they must walk while making clattering noises. Should anyone pass secretly, the deity will manifest, a whirlwind will rise, and any sailing vessel will surely capsize.

*Izumo Fudoki*

When a heart is steeped in sorrow, Kisakakahihime—

Her tears burned fiercely as she wandered alone,

She recalled the Ancestral Deity Kamimusubi in the heavens,

In the sea cavern where dark tides surged,

When she lamented, there came a voice—

“Dark, oh dark,

Ah, dark, oh dark this cavern.”

Unable to bear her sorrow, Kisakakahihime—

“Ah, how pitiable—the azure sea plain’s

The god who plays this mysterious melody would know—

Have the waves thus hidden the lost bow and arrows of life?”

At this time, the voice again—

“Dark, oh dark,

“Ah, dark, oh dark this cavern!”

The most hideous soul stirred with the waves,

The open sea resounded mightily,

A whirlwind fell from the sky, clouds churned wildly,

The tide burned upon the shore like fire.

At this time, the voice again—

“Dark, oh dark,

“Ah, dark, oh dark this cavern.”

“Yet within this drenched womb-garden,

The seed of light splits—and with the divine progeny,

If my divine child, the valiant one, is to be born,

May the lost bow and arrows of life appear and come forth!”

As she prayed, the voice again—

“Dark, oh dark,

Ah, dark, oh dark this cavern.”

The sea briefly stilled, wave upon wave,

From offshore to the rocky shore flowed the bow and arrows.—

Kisakakahihime’s form lay prostrated in prayer—

The dwelling of sacred essence now unfurled,

A magnificent voice resounded loudly—

“Dark, oh dark,

“Ah, dark, oh dark this cavern.”

Ah, Sada no Ōkami who was divinely born,

Fierce and unyielding, the light shone upon the sea,

The horn bow and arrows that appeared from the waves

“This is not mine—begone!” he proclaimed.

His divine voice rang clear—

“Dark, oh dark,

“Ah, dark, oh dark this cavern.”

The sea calmed again, wave upon wave,

From offshore to the rocky shore came surging the bow and arrows,

The golden adornments shone and flowed,

Though the surging high tide was reflected in the turbulent darkness,

The divine voice yet again—

“Dark, oh dark,

“Ah, dark, oh dark this cavern.”

Ah, Divine Child of Celestial Descent, Great Deity,

At this time he flowed forth from between the waves,

Held aloft in hand the golden radiant bow,

Nocked the shining golden sacred arrow to the bow’s nock,

Struck the cavern entrance—

“Dark—oh dark…
Ah! Dark—oh dark—this cavern.”

When her heart rejoiced, Kisakakahihime,

When she praised her divine child, the bowstring resounded,

As the sacred arrow pierced through, the heavenly fragrance overflowed,

The great sea surged like a blossoming flower.

Now, the divine voice rang clear—

“Let there be light upon the stormy shore,

“I, Sada no Ōkami, have arisen!”

*Song of the New Nightingale*

Houki Village, located fourteen ri and two hundred forty steps due west of the district office: Umukahihime no Mikoto, child of Kamimusubi no Mikoto, transformed into a Houki bird and flew across the land, then settled here in stillness—thus it is called Houki.

Izumo Fudoki

“My sister nightingale—why must this be—
A self that longs for fields and valleys—
I changed my form to bird—
Green—fragrant these wings.”

I am the eternal essence of the sea,
Steeped in yesterday’s closeness—
Clusters of rocks along the shore; the billows’
Shall I wash my breast in their turbulent sway?
My sister, turn back for a moment—
Look upon the northern sea’s frigid shore,
Beneath clouds freezing mid-plummet—
This futile regret alone remains.
Unceasing in sorrow am I,
When stiffened on sand I lament—
Deep thoughts too of ocean depths
Lie hidden now in lush reed plains.
My sister Nightingale...this faint
Smile-praised by worldly folk—
Through your voice’s measured song
Might they forget both grief and ache.

I am the wandering essence of the sea,
With a single frond from a seashell’s husk,
Yesterday indeed, the two of us to the great deity
offered herbal medicine—

My sister Nightingale—what do you intend—
The great rainbow shines in deep hues,
Discarding the shell sake cup,
Discarding without regret the song's voice.
I remain still the spirit of the sea—
Your path I contemplate—
Climbing rocks, drenched by waves—
Both night and day shall I grieve—
Nightingale—Nightingale—my sister—
From tree branches where you met spring—
For a time—the rough distant sea's—

Recall the past, I pray.

I am the decaying spirit of the sea,

Even as the voice of lament fades,

At last, as spring flourishes,

Your melody alone must be pure.

Perilla

Mingling with yellow grasses,

When I see the color of withering perilla leaves,

Why do I linger on this field path,

Ah, how great the heart's sorrow!

The visage of the one who parted—
Here too lies mirrored this futility—
Not being that selfsame sorrow, yet on such a day—
How heartrending this field path.

Yellow small grasses and perilla leaves,
On this day, in this field, withered and tangled,
The sun bows to autumn, the path distant
From where is this sorrow drawn?

Garden of Love

『In the turbid dark of the deep sea’s

“the self that slept in the depths tonight,’—

On Pearl Sayuri's lips

touched for the first time,

“I love you.”

Though birthed, sunk deep—

The sea is the mother of pearls, yet,

abandoning even her mother for this garden—

Ah, what now—

“I love you.”

Does Sayuri know—this encroaching yearning?

Though her gaze barred heaven’s vault,

In her breast swayed ocean’s murmur—

Her grief—ah how it swelled—

“I love you.”

Overbrimming moonlight drowned in clouds,

When those mists melted into radiance,

Bathed in her garden’s fragrance—

Shadows—dreaming depths—

“I love you.”

Were one not a pearl of pure form,

Why would the sweetness of Sayuri's kiss mingle—

the sweet fragrance would not mingle—

Ah, how heartrending—

“I love you.”

The night was not the darkness of human dwellings,

Tonight the moon shines upon the Garden of Love,
The door of repose too is a shadow, but
Will you not hearken, ah—

“I love you.”

Ah, sunk too in the sea’s depths,

Even through loving—within a heart so profound—

Sayuri’s tender kiss—

Ah, how shallow—and yet,

“I love you.”

When love’s fire burned, even the clouds—

The waves too became one breath of flame.

Tidelands of light—the moon too,
Though troubled, still—
“I love you.”
“The flame flows toward love,
My burning self tonight—”
Pearl Sayuri’s petal
A kiss on the mouth,

“I love you.”

Ecstasy

The buried fruit of last year's tree—

Even in that seed's narrow dream,

What manner of breath coursed through,

Awakened by delicate thoughts.

"Awaken, seed; moisture abounded,

Did you not hear the clear sound?"

The stream of life came flowing—

The source of the tiny stream emerged.

What mystery had been dreamt—

Did this body float at light's verge?

The treetop at journey's end found fulfillment.

Had the koto's melody blossomed?

Though buried in its shell,

In the depths of its breast—there too

It ceaselessly yearned for joy,
The wandering steps resounded!
Sprout forth, then farewell January.
It was the violet that was your friend,
Having grown, then came a certain night—
True White Lily would accompany you.

Illusion

I stand all alone,

When I listen—Ah, how lonely the whisper,—
That is the pale daylight leaking

Heaven's whisper, in the distant sea.

Dim yet distinct,

Quiet yet glimmering,

The radiant heaven’s whisper—
How unfathomable it lay in the distant sea.
Ah—the lofty firmament; the distant sea—
Two existed in this boundless mortal world—
In the cup raised as remembrance—
A rainbow’s hues overflowed with light’s radiance.
What noble sake was this being poured—
This ecstasy transcending earthly realms—
In pure white hands entwined with bewilderment—
The secretly brewed wine of love?
Midday brimmed full with brilliance yet—
Who came bearing silver-bright—
The whispered gleam of celestial light—
Drawing near with longing to that far sea?
Only when they unraveled that whispering thread—
Only then did starlight crown loom overhead—

There lay a garden of lilies—
How might one know its fragrance?

And so the sea churned—
The tide scattered like blossoms—
In richly buoyant brine foam—
Even their transformed forms must follow—

Being but an illusion, it could not be grasped—
Merely surrounded one resplendently—

What was unraveled—and yet what was known—
What secret was this—what manner of mystery?

When awakened, all became ineffable—
To yearn only—and yet to endure only—

Since it was but an illusion—it shifted—

Midday too declined in time.

Now gazing upon the shadow that entered sight,
A small jar burned afloat upon the waves,
The jar's surface shone,
A girl drawn in fire.
The illusion indeed ended here,
As the small jar sank into the waves,
My body—the string of a flame's koto—
Who could pluck it with a flame's little finger?

Saikashi.

On a winter day in the bare woods
A single Saikashi tree,
(Sanari Saikashi,)

Indeed, the fruit - exceedingly high in the treetop - parted the wind.

Beyond the bare woods,

The village girl—
(Sanari Saotome,)
—her clear-eyed figure had been called forth.

The clear-eyed figure swayed gracefully.

On this side of the bare woods,

Blown by the wind,

(Sanari Kogarashi,)

Blown into the sky, it is the saikashi pods that rustle.

The husk of the saikashi fruit falls,

It resented the wind,—

(Sanari Wabishi,)

“Life falls alone, with no means to retrieve it.”

The Saikashi fruit resounded on the branch,

The sound too was strangely beautiful,

(Sanarikikekashi,)

Lamenting the fallen husk’s companion’s fate—

“Ah, in this world there exists no life that does not end,

There exists no mortal frame that does not decay.”——

(Sanari this world—)

Unnoticed by people, the Saikashi fruit had resounded.

The wind spontaneously strummed and resounded.

Though not a small koto,

(Sanari secretly,)

How sorrowful the thoughts of the fruit’s husk clinging to the branch!

Forlornly ripening seeds within the husk

This day lay disordered,

(Sanari helplessly)

Though one wept at the sound—how to endure this tuneless sorrow?

Thus in the world, though new—

Though light existed,

(Sanari Light!)

I lamented Saikashi's ancient sorrow.

Starry Eyes

Yesterday under green shade,
Again he met with you;
This suddenness—as it was—
They met only to part.
Even though faintly lingering in his chest,

May the flower of your memory never decay,
Only now that we've parted do I yearn ever more—
Though I know not even your name.
Your starry eyes' unending—

Through clouds overflowing, from clouds emerging,
The light split, flourished and trembled
Like wild grasses traversing the field.
Your starry eyes' unending,
That shadow which by chance dwelt—
Illuminated the door of troubles in the chest
The shadow had entered the fragrance of the deep garden.
The night had indeed dawned brightly,
Ah, if I were to meet a day of joy,
Though I might not see that lofty day,
My wish would accompany the light.
The fragrance lingered, yet startled—
How could the flower of love turn away,
Though your visage was a flower,
Too forlorn a shadow of a dream.
Am I but water in love’s flow,

Though I sank to the depths,
A bubble floating yet not vanishing,
Those starry eyes lingered still.

Little bird
In frost-laden dawn's purest white,

Coming to scentless loquat flowers,
The little bird's sorrowful gaze

It drifts in pale daylight.

Little bird, now listlessly—
Was it because the chill of wings grew cold—
Winter having grown so utterly desolate,
Was the Garden of Affection so distant?
Snow clouds closed in, the wind sharpened—
In the sorrowful decline of its cry,
Joy that had never fully dawned
The vibrant notes of its song grew indistinct to the ear.
Even the sea of revelry, when its time came,
In the interval as the drunken tide ebbed,
On tidal flats they gathered mortal clams—
Who drew from that ritual cup?
When the goddess took someone’s hand and led them into the field,
In the dawn when one dreamed and awoke,
How pleasant that dream was—

How sorrowful this plaintive cry.
I wander at my dream’s gate,
while it pecks scentless loquat flowers,

Entrusting to the striking hail,
How pitiable your form!

Song of Light

Light transformed into a white bird,
In the dawn where radiant skies gleamed,
Awakened yet still lovely remained
The wings of dream.

In the heavenly garden where morning stars shone clear,
Auspicious trees exhaled hues' fragrant breath,
Behold—even clouds possessed life,
To be imbued with fragrance.

The world had returned to a new day,
Fate’s chariot was exceedingly dark—
The ruts of bygone years:
"Hide in dust."

Wherever people might depart and perish,
Heaven’s gate awoke this day,
With light’s beckoning words,
I entrusted myself.

In the high abyss of molten lapis lazuli,
When clouds streamed and cascaded,
Flame-hued morning’s glow,
The joy of morning.
Stepping upon the stairs of the celestial palace,

Placed a hand upon the sacred door,

By whose authority could it have been opened,

The pivot resounded.

Now truly transformed into a white bird,

Light had departed the heavens,

Having left heaven, descend upon the field of young grasses—

Upon the field do you descend.

Afterglow of Eminent Jewels

Here I present four translated short poems.
The first is “Sun-Flower” by the demonic genius Blake, and the second is a poem of reflection sent by Landor—renowned for his elegant verse—to a certain female friend on the day after his seventy-fifth birthday.
The third is Dante Rossetti’s subtly beautiful masterpiece “Sudden Light”—a piece I never neglect to recite with love—and the fourth is Christina Rossetti’s “One Sea-Side Grave,” selected from her numerous lyrical songs.
These four chapters were originally inscribed with the brilliance of a small jade, yet conveying their luster proves difficult.

I. Ah! Sun-flower

(Blake)

Ah, sun-flower! The sun’s journey—
Weary from counting all day long,
The journey’s end they call
They pursue the splendid land of gold.

Even the brave men whose resentment has vanished,
Even the child who donned a snow-white shroud and departed
Emerging from graves, they seek
To that land I too pray, sun-flower.

II. Reflection

(Landor)

I did not contend—in this world where contention brings no gain,

Nature I admired; Art’s work remained—

Though with both hands I upheld life’s fire,

The fire sinks—ah! How many days can I yet endure?

III. Sudden Light

(Rossetti)

I have been here before,

Once—though how we could not speak—

Is it not just as those delicate grasses on the outer face,

The keen beauty of fragrance,

The sound of lamenting waves, the shadow of lamps encircling the shore.

I must have known you too in days of old,

Though I cannot discern in what age,

Your neck where swallows turn their course

When that is reversed,

The veil does not fall—it was I who saw it long ago.
In days of old thus it must have been,
In the interval where swirling Time passes,
The two people's love clings once more to their flesh,
Refusing to decay—thereupon,
Night and day have turned into the same joy—ah!

IV. Seaside Grave

(Christina Rossetti)

Not even memories of roses arise,

Not even memories of briar roses arise,

And yet, exhausted from reaping wheat,

Like dozing against piled sheaves,

Thus I too shall endure until dawn.

Cold—cold is the deep winter’s—

What has passed is like days gone by,

Even during that time, someone alone thinks of me,
Even if all the world has forgotten,

Still, only one person remembers me.

Soliloquy

After the Shipwreck――A Solitary Island in the Southern Sea

O sea, my love—why is it that

How sorrowful,

The sea—it is life,

Behold, the waves overflow; sun, shine forth.

When they surge forth, both body and ship—

spray droplets,—

Ah, Watatsumi,
Do you not see the ship shattered and sunk?
Though fate decrees this body return to earth,
Would that I were joined to the sea—
All I pray is
To live and perish in the sea, not decay with land.
Shall I partake of the sea’s sake cup?
A night of terror,
Storm and waves,
Shadow-dragging clouds and sake brewed therein.
Once we kissed,
Yet still I shall—

O friend of Fortune,
The ship alone shatters, yet still endures.
Shall I partake? Then waves turn scalding—
Dissolved flames—
Dream profoundly,
Endure that draught, that enigma.
O friend of Fortune, shadowless—
Coral isle—
The sun blazes fierce,
Though I sought a well, tides came surging.

Thirst does not abate; only the tide—
Only the sea’s water,
What am I to do—
Hawksbill shell was burned, the tide boiled.
Who is there? This small crimson grass—
The grass bears its fruit—
Ah, this moment—
Why should I fear? Would I not praise this?
I myself shall kiss—
O cherished fruit—
Know my self—

You are my dream, my illusion.
Affection runs deeper than the tide,

The congealed foam,

Shimane coral

Crimson fruit dwells resplendent.
Love stronger than death—
I had swiftly heard
the southern sea.

How coquettishly this grass's fruit glows.
My life, once pure—
Vase's water—
The flower all too soon—
The world withers away—water to the sea.

The sea—my grave—here it lies—
What shall I lament?
Death’s Chalice—
Does love’s fruit drip with fragrance?
Now again—do they press so close?
O shadow of thoughts—
My pure white hand—

Come, let me drain this chalice.

Watatsumi’s love—O day of the sea,

Illuminate, overflow—

Dream deep—

Grow thick, this wine—this mystery.

(Published May 1903 [Meiji 36])