Pathway to Japanese Literature

“Dōjinkyo”: In Place of a Vow

All the evil karma I have created in the past
All arise from beginningless greed, anger, and delusion.
All arise from actions of body, speech, and mind.
All these I now fully repent.

Threefold Refuge Ritual

I take refuge in the Buddha; may all beings do so together.
Comprehending the Great Way, I aspire to manifest supreme intention.
I take refuge in the Dharma; may all beings do so together.
May I deeply enter the sutra repository and become like the ocean of wisdom.
I take refuge in the Sangha; may all beings do so together.
Governing the assembly, may all be without hindrance.

May the merit from this universally spread to all
We and all sentient beings together attain the path of Buddhahood.

2600th Year of the Imperial Era, New Year's Day

The dawn of a glorious new century.
——
At 9:00 AM, a chorus of "Long Live His Majesty," followed by a moment of silent prayer.
——

New Year's Pledge——

“Here upon welcoming New Year's Day of the fifteenth year of Showa, I reverently celebrate His Majesty's long life, resolutely pledge to further promote the spirit of our nation's founding, build a mighty Japan to advance toward completing the sacred endeavor of constructing a New East Asia, and thereby make the 2600th Year of the Imperial Era one of radiant glory.”

February 11. Cloudy——Rain.

Empire Day—must consciously grasp and embody this new century; I stayed up nearly all night organizing haiku drafts.

In the morning, I bathed at Dogo Onsen and visited Gokoku Shrine; in the afternoon, Brother Ishun and I called on Tsukimura-kun. The three of us wandered about chatting until rain began falling, forcing us to hurry back.

Drank too much again today—must restrain from sake, must reflect on myself. Shōchū, farewell!
(Passively taste only sake from now.) Calm comes with falling rain; rain falls bringing calm...…

I wrote through the night.——

February 12. Rain.

Secluded indoors, I spent the entire day and night devoted to organizing my haiku drafts—selecting them myself—how difficult, how difficult—working modestly and honestly, quietly settling into the task. Excellent, excellent.

The day before yesterday’s calligraphy I’d scrawled at S Temple kept gnawing at me—must destroy them—absolutely must destroy them—decided to have Brother Ishun handle it somehow—felt relieved—don’t dwell—don’t dwell—good—good.

(A drunken scrawl—this won’t do!)

February 13. Rain――Cloudy.

I pressed on with the manuscript without sleeping much—had to finish “Crow” by tomorrow and compile the manuscript for my life’s work within a few days.……

I finally sent the letter to Fuji-kun—broke into a cold sweat—it was a letter I didn’t want to write, yet had to write!

I went out to the postbox while taking a walk; did some shopping for this and that.

Dozed off in a tipsy daze; woke up to find it was already evening. Headed out to Dogo for a haircut and bath, swung by Brother Ishun’s place on the way back. Body and mind oddly out of sorts—tonight, I slacked off completely.

On the way, I picked up a clump of vegetable leaves; boiled and ate them.

The one that cried through the night was a toad; crying and crying, walking and walking.

Wind, nightmares, diarrhea—it was an unpleasant day.

・※ (replacing the bamboo radical in “簔” with the grass radical) Words of Insects

・Toad's Spring

Today's Shopping

Sake: 0.54 liters – 75 sen

Kelp rolls – 18 sen

Vinegar – 5 sen

Huge daikon – 16 sen

Dried sardines – 15 sen

Narcissus – 3 sen

Postcard – 10 sen

Bat – 9 sen

February 14. Cloudy——Clear.

Early rising—I’d intended to stay up all night, but with my body and mind unwell, I ended up slacking off again tonight. I went out around nine, walked to Furu-machi, then took the train to Takahama to meet Sumita-kun. While waiting, I gazed contemplatively at the sea.

For a time, we returned together to the hermitage, had sake and tofu bought for us, and chatted animatedly; Mr. Takahashi Ishun came to the hermitage bringing delicious pickles; in the evening, Mr. Fujioka Seiichi also visited (the sake and letter truly delighted me—it was so moving!). As souvenirs, he brought large mandarins, country-style buns, and more…… Thank you, thank you.

The four of us merrily became intoxicated (not necessarily by sake alone), wrote collaborative letters and created calligraphy pieces.

We set out for Dogo Onsen together before ten, but I started feeling drunk along the way and ended up collapsing at T-ya. I’m sorry—after all, I’d drunk nearly two liters all by myself.

The sake today tasted good; I was grateful for it.

┌Donguri ┌Donguri-sensei (Ishun)

“Three Dons”│Donkotsu│Monk Donko (Sumita)

└Donbiki └Donbiki Old Man

Tofu tsukudani?!

“Thatched hut: yesterday, today.”

February 15. Clear.

I returned to the hermitage early in the morning.
——
I went to visit Ōyama-kun at Ishun’s residence but arrived too early—the lattice door hadn’t been opened yet. When I called again later, it was too late; he had already departed (how I regretted not having a watch this morning!). So instead, I met Donguri-sensei at the school and reported last night’s events.

What felt odd lately was sleeping side by side with a country girl at T-ya last night (it being a cheap inn with shared lodging); what made me happy was running out of tobacco and receiving two or three cigarettes from someone on the road in the early morning while in a bind……

Bathed in spring light, I walked to the station, received a gift from Mr. Toyota of Kyoto—red turnip pickles—hurriedly hugged the bucket and returned; on the way, stopped by Warei’s place and Ishun’s place to discuss and finalize plans for the haiku meeting.

Every day, surrounded by friendship—how truly warm!

Take my time with evening drinks; do not gulp down cold sake.

Lately, I often forget things; old age reveals itself naturally.

At the station, I wrote the character for “strength” for a thousand people.

Worked through the night; push on, give it your all, stay strong.

Today and tomorrow (the 8th and 9th days of the lunar New Year) were the famous Camellia Festival; the town was crowded with people, creating a spring-like scene.

In a place as good as Matsuyama, with such good friends—and yet here I remain, unable to better myself.——

Santōka, sake, and haiku form a perfect trinity—or so it seems!

“Camellia Festival” (“Auspicious Bamboo Grass”)

February 16. Cloudy.

Frost; the bucket's water was cold.

I went out to the post office. Since the drill ground was occupied with exercises and couldn't be crossed, I detoured via the school—which let me pick up two or three haiku along the way.

Burning straw scraps to make ash for the brazier—a rare moment of calm for me these days!
It's bitterly cold, but there's no mistaking spring has arrived.

February 17. Clear.

Got up early and wrote.

Having no choice, I went out to the post; on the way, I was moved watching assault drills.

Even in the withered grass of the drill ground, a skylark rejoices in spring!

In the morning Brother Ishun visited and vigorously wielded his brush; in the afternoon the Futagami sisters came to the hermitage, bringing various flowers which they arranged for me. The monaka too was delicious—thank you.

Today we all tasted the red turnip pickles sent by Shigeru-kun; Shigeru-kun, may this bring you joy.

Suddenly, in a certain matter, I found my own baseness; ah, cast it away, transcend it.

In the evening, I went to the post again, then took a bath; exchanging an empty bottle for sake, I was blessed with an evening drink!

Donbiki had holed up because of the cold but came out again; tonight too, I nearly stepped on him.

Iyo mikan are said to be a branch family of Hagi mikan—bulky they were, bulky; impressive indeed!

It was a pleasant day; pleasantly drunk, I slept soundly. Without reading Sōseki’s essays I’d borrowed, I got into bed and started snoring: guu-gu, guu-gu.

Being idle is, at times, rather nice; I’m grateful for it.

February 18. Perfectly clear.

I sensed spring’s purity; the wind bit cold yet carried gentleness. Before dawn, I woke and rose to write unreservedly. Through the paling sky echoed the drums of Gokoku Shrine—their solemnity sacred.

That afternoon we convened the Persimmon Society’s second haiku gathering. Only six attended—Ishun, Tsukimura, Yanagi Woman, Fusa Woman, Warei, Musui—yet warmth filled our meeting. Come evening’s initial adjournment, Ishun, Musui, and Warei stayed behind to deliberate plans for erecting the Shurin Cave verse monument.

I was grateful to receive all sorts of treats; exhausted, I immediately crawled into bed.

Haiku-like—haiku essence

Simplicity——

February 19. Clear—cloudy—rain.

I got up early and wrote—the busyness of a lazy man.

The morning glow had been beautiful, but it gradually clouded over until finally turning to rain; cold upon cold, chill upon chill—then at night, the rain turned warm and cozy.

Around ten o'clock, Brother Ishun came to the hermitage; together we visited Ms. Fusa and were relieved to find nothing seriously wrong. The gift was three tea scrolls (my haiku inscribed on Brother Ishun's paintings—our hearts must be strong indeed!).

I worked through the night organizing haiku drafts.

Mice have come from somewhere, somehow; the cat arrived first—complacency is your greatest enemy, I tell you!
The sound of nightly rain is pleasant—it lets me settle down.

Even if humans are unfinished (and that is all well and good), works must each and every one be complete.

Youth and Age

└┐└────┐

Red hands and pale hands lined up—

"The Tale of the Three Dons" (Monk Donko, Master Donbiki, Old Man Donguri)

“Early Spring Diary,” “Matsuyama Strolls Here and There,” “Hermit’s Fragmented Thoughts”

February 20. Rain—cloudy.

The sound of softly falling rain, the whitening hues of dawn—organizing haiku drafts through endless hours—the moon emerged and compelled me to compose a verse!

February 21. Perfectly clear, with some clouds in the afternoon.

In the morning I finally managed to compile the haiku drafts; I immediately sent them off by express mail to Tokyo. Phew, what a hassle, what a hassle!

In the afternoon Brother Ishun came to the hermitage; persuaded, I too attended the M family’s burial ceremony. Neither the graves nor the people were free from the stench of wealth.

Wind, wind—the spring wind had turned back into a winter wind.

Through Brother Ishun, I was invited by Mr. Murase for tomorrow evening; thank you.

A letter came from Ken—thank you, thank you! Glug, and a drink!
Delicious!
In the evening I went out to town again to get a bottle and came back; sipping little by little, with the relief of having finished my work and the joy of their early remittance, I got pleasantly drunk and slept soundly.

February 22nd. Cloudy.

Before dawn I rose, drank what remained, tidied my surroundings—there are things within me that even I cannot resolve!

Light snow flurried; bitter cold.

Come early evening Brother Ishun paid a visit; I accompanied him to call upon Mr. Murase's household where two other guests awaited—Manager F and Principal S. Shiroshika sake flowed; steam rose gently from the communal hotpot. Our hosts showered us with kindness—tonight I unleashed my inner wildman in full measure, drinking deep and eating heartily!

The calligraphy proved no easy task, yet viewing those swords made rare sport.

The gathering broke up quite late; on the way back, I wasted fifty-three sen but made it safely home.

┌Simplicity ┌Free-Verse

└Intuition │Natural Rhythm

└Inevitability

February 23. Clear—a quintessentially Japanese clear sky.

The sky, the earth, and I were radiant (though in the morning the frost lay white and the ground was frozen)—it was truly spring!
I threw open the shoji and breathed in spring.

Mr. Ikawa, a student at the Higher Commercial School, popped in unexpectedly; after some casual chatting, Warei-kun came to the hermitage, bringing empty boxes, nails, and mandarin oranges—I was grateful.

Warei-kun took me along to visit Ryuon Temple nearby; there was quite a crowd, and many stalls were set up. I had Warei-kun buy me Shojokai’s sakura mochi—it was delicious! The scent of spring was in the air!

The renowned Kōshi Cherry Tree, also known as the Sixteenth-Day Cherry Tree—its parent tree had decayed, and the young tree bore but a single blossom.

Truly, a single bloom blooming—just one.

February 24th. Spring, spring, spring.
——

Around four o'clock, I got up; moonlight bathed all things in purity.

In the morning, Brother Ishun came to the hermitage; the casual conversation was enjoyable.

In the evening, I went out to the post; succumbing to the sake barrel's temptation, I exchanged my rice money for sake money and returned—a sweetness that felt bitter, a bitterness that felt sweet.—

A return telegram came from Sumita-kun saying all was well; I was happy.

It was a fine moonlit night—the seventeenth day of the old lunar calendar.

February 25. Rain—cloudy—clear.

I woke to the great drum of Gokoku Shrine; this rare Sunday ruined by rain—how pitiful. With no umbrella, I had no choice but to stay in. The rain wasn’t so bad—it settled me down. I organized my diary, haiku drafts, and letters.

I went out briefly to the post—ah, how grateful for this warmth! At the training ground, skylarks sang carefree; the grass was greening here and there. I shed my padded garments; I wouldn’t wear tabi socks anymore.

I boiled mandarin orange peels; added two or three pieces of candy as a sugar substitute.

Today too, on the way, I picked a bunch of vegetable leaves and used them for soup.

From early evening I read in bed; paradise upon paradise—forgive me, forgive me.

February 26th. Clear.

After getting up, the great drums of Shinonome Shrine and then Gokoku Shrine finally began to sound.

Be honest—don’t dwell on things—these are the words I’ve been telling myself lately.

A lingering chill—the early spring air feels welcome.

In the morning, two Higher Commercial School students visited; we talked briefly about new haiku. Unusually, the fish seller woman came—because I didn’t want to deal with her, I firmly refused.

I received blanched parsley from the neighbor; it was delicious—the scent of early spring.

In the afternoon, I went to the post office; taking the opportunity, I visited Brother Ishun’s place. After some casual chatting, we set out together to view plum blossoms at Dogo Mountain. At the red plum grove—already past its peak and scattering—it felt rather garish. Plum blossoms are best as white plums, before they fully bloom. We wandered back—it was a good walk.

At Brother Ishun’s place, I was treated to the rare delight of kinako mochi; then Brother Ishun bought me tofu instead of nigori sake—many thanks.

At night, I revised *Pilgrimage*.

Parsley.

February 27th. Clear—springlight pervades all.

Early to bed and early to rise—the moonlit night with lingering brightness was splendid. Before dawn broke, I finished my meal; when day came, I went to Dogo. Though the spring frost bit cold, bathing and shaving left me refreshed.

The unpleasant fish seller woman came again today; I curtly refused her (not that I had any money anyway). Don’t take it the wrong way—if something’s unpleasant, it’s unpleasant!

I was just about to eat lunch when Ishuntei-san came to the hermitage; we talked leisurely in springlike fashion.

Laundry, sewing, pickling, and calligraphy.

I pay the newspaper fee—must pay the electric bill too—not to mention sake money; even the rice money’s gone!
I’ve long since given up thoughts of wealth; being poor doesn’t bother me—but I want to live without ever lacking rice.

“Hermitage These Days” “Mountain-Water Pilgrimage”

February 28. Cloudy, light rain.

I took a leisurely morning nap—for me, that is.

Morning: The First Case of the Mumonkan—Jōshū’s Dog.

From this morning, there was a newspaper—a single joy.

Endure your hardships—hardships are medicine, poison, good medicine. I persistently continued my hardships day after day: writing letters and sending them out. The mounting communication costs left me speechless—a happy lament, though.

Around three o’clock, Brother Ishun came to hermitage—thank you for the gift; I accompanied him to the post office, sent off my poor calligraphy to An-kun, and felt a wave of relief.

Somehow depressed—my temper felt ready to burst, and even I grew flustered with myself… How pathetic!

The rain fell springlike; even if it poured wildly, do not spill a drop—for this was rain that coaxed buds to unfurl and flowers to bloom.

In the evening, I slept for a while; then, insomnia—tidying up my surroundings.

The light turns back to illuminate—
A heart that looks back and reflects.
A mindset of waiting patiently.

A life of having to do this and that.

February 29. Cloudy—today is a leap day.

I had been awake since early morning—when Gokoku Shrine’s great drum began to sound—and rose at last.

Solemnly and quietly dawn breaks—each day a fine day.

My life had finally settled into my true nature; I seemed to be regaining my normal rhythm—a reason to celebrate and persevere. Today too: laundry, sewing, and calligraphy (though my brushwork remained unsteady).

I’d received a ticket for last year’s best film—*Tsuchi*—but ultimately never went. How you’ve aged, Santōka! Never lose your youthfulness; grow old without becoming decrepit—preserve an elder’s vigor.

Around one o'clock, Brother Ishun came to the hermitage; we discussed plans for the March 3rd poetry walk.

Regarding a certain matter—how ridiculous my own hasty assumptions had been!

I finally repaired the pump and could draw water from the old well again; relying on others' water had been such a nuisance.

A child came down from the mountain and gave me flowers—wild camellias, my favorite—thank you; I tossed them into a jar and gazed at them endlessly.

I went to the post office; by chance, I found some pink flowers; one bunch of green onions for nine sen—green onions may be pricey among vegetables, but their flavor justifies the cost.

I’ve ended up completely penniless again—for me it’s a commonplace occurrence, but still lonely!

Unfilial son!
The voice of reflection ceaselessly whispered to me; tonight, I slept soundly.

People, cats, mice, small birds.

“One Grass, One Person” Lay Sage

March 1st. Cloudy—do not forget Kōa Hōkōbi (Asia Development Service Day).

This morning came early; dawn had yet to break. Snow, snow was falling and piling up—a rare snowfall. The quiet of snow fading away with the breaking dawn—

Mind and body clear and bright.

This would be the time for snow-viewing sake, but…

There was rice… there was charcoal… there was tobacco…… That day I found happiness; hands pressed together in gratitude.
Yesterday’s chill lingered into today; once more came layers of quilted cloth.

Visitors to Gokoku Shrine were especially numerous today; figures of schoolgirls lined up before the worship hall singing in unison were visible, their voices audible; snow fell quietly as people moved modestly—ah.

From morning, the things I wait for are first the mail, then the newspaper, then friends, and then—

Green onions were delicious; I was amazed by their vitality—from cut stems, cores came thrusting out vigorously!

It was spring snow; even when it piled up, it melted easily. When the sun shone, it quickly melted. The wind also blew. The sound of melting snowwater dripping around the house was lively.

The capricious spring weather aggravated my chilblains; while I was searching for a pickling stone, well—

In the evening, I visited Warei-kun about the poetic excursion; on my way back, I quietly took a branch of a magnolia tree!
The magnolia was splendid—how splendid, how splendid.

Mind and body somehow out of sorts; went to bed early, couldn’t quite fall asleep. I who was single-mindedly devoted to composing haiku—but there was nothing else to do; I had no worldly life skills.

March 2. Clear and cold—thin ice glazed over.

Having slept soundly, I awoke refreshed; no sooner had I risen than Gokoku Shrine's great drum began to sound.

It was a serene morning; I wrote calmly.

A quintessentially Japanese clear sky—it somehow reminded me of the Age of the Gods and ancient Japan, making me feel something profoundly Japanese.

I received more Iruma seaweed from Junko-kun and shared some with the neighbor—thankful, thankful.

A picture postcard of Kondō arrived from Sumita-kun; the northern regions must still be cold.

The chilblain on my right thumb made every task feel cumbersome.
The sound of military drills occasionally reached me.
Spring light abounded—laundry, sewing, and so on.

I was about to head out to Dogo when Brother Ishun visited; we made arrangements for tomorrow’s poetic excursion.

Be careful—regarding a certain matter, I felt pathetic observing my own hastiness.

My stomach wasn’t cooperating; overeating was likely the cause.

In the evening I went out and borrowed some money at the pawnshop—I feel remorseful but there’s no choice, it’s a matter of survival—then promptly bought rice, postcards, daikon radishes... sake and tobacco too; this helped me get by. Thank you, thank you.

At night, I drank quietly—it had been nine days since my last drink. Needless to say, it tasted wonderful. Ah, the drinker's path is a bitter one.

Settle your vacillations, cast off greed—to put it plainly, this means no more bar-hopping.

Properly drunk, I slept soundly; it was a good day after all.

Naturalness

Simplicity

Purity

Appropriateness

Harmony

┌Sensibility

└Intellect

Unyielding Passion

March 3rd. Cloudy.

A sleep so deep it was sleep itself; I did not even know the great drum of Gokoku Shrine had sounded. Before rising, first a cup, then hurried to Dogo for a bath.

I left before nine o'clock.
At City Station I joined the group; we took the ten o'clock train to Tanokubo, then walked about one ri to Haiishi's Koyama residence. Our party included Ishun, Tsukimura, the Mitsumishi couple, Fusa Woman, and the Kurita sisters—four men and four women making a lively crowd. Thinking how nice the countryside was, we crossed fields and a river; Saragamine spread its peculiar shape above us while the Shigenobu River had completely dried up.

The Koyama residence was a large old-fashioned vacant estate (apparently once a village headman's home). Its spacious garden had coralberry plants glittering with red berries here and there—an aged plum tree stood gracefully, a large nandina bush added interest—everything retained the hues and fragrances characteristic of an old family. After leisurely receiving boxed lunches, we opened a haiku session—a truly relaxed gathering. On the return trip we walked noisily back to Tanokubo Station, took the five o'clock train to City Station, then I walked back alone from there—quite exhausted.

Having a fire in the hibachi was delightful; with hot tea I ate and ate, then immediately slept and slept...
Today was another good day.

"A Day in Early Spring"

March 4th. Cloudy, rain in the afternoon.

I got up after daybreak; the warmth was most welcome. I planted yesterday’s spring orchids. Orchids—especially wild ones—I like.

I stayed indoors; read modestly; enjoyed the tranquility.

March 5th. Rain—cloudy.

Early rising—it must have been before four o’clock; the great drum did not sound at all.

It was still raining—softly，softly，like a spring rain.
Monk Sumita returned to the mountain temple for the first time in a while.

Postcards arrived from Fuji-kun, Shigetsudō-kun, and Yoko-kun departing for the northern front.

When considering China, when considering Japan within China, our hearts could not help but ache—whether for better or worse.

In the afternoon, during a break in the rain, I went out briefly to the post office; no matter what, I had to buy one umbrella.

As the following day marked the start of this temple’s festival, people from the neighborhood came to erect banners and make preparations; large and small national flags along with numerous Mikoyama Daigongen banners were raised.

Tonight’s rice turned out exceptionally well; though I’m not bad at cooking rice myself, this was particularly delicious.

Went to bed early; woke up in the middle of the night and read.

Today's Shopping

18 sen; three bush clovers
10 sen; five mikan
4 sen; bath fee
6 sen; one tofu
3 sen; one bunch of marigolds
20 sen; ten kusamochi

Total: 61 sen

Today's Three Meals

┌Daikon

Morning│

└Pickles (napa cabbage)

┌Tofu │

Noon│ Pickles

└Nori │

┌Soup │

Evening│ Ditto

└Wakame

┌Tea snacks

Kusamochi, caramel, mikan.

March 6th. Cloudy—clear.

This morning was also very early—too early. Even after I’d tidied everything up, the night still hadn’t dawned.

The 49th memorial service of my deceased mother; Mikoyama Daigongen Festival; Chikyū-setsu (Empress’s Birthday); Mother’s Day Week.

On my way out, Brother Ishun stopped by; he chanted sutras for Mother—grateful am I. When asked, I wrote down a few recent poems for him; they’ll likely become compost for some future work.

I bathed at Dogo, trimmed my nails, shaved my face—felt refreshed.

I humbly bowed before the Buddhist altar, offered incense and chanted sutras. "Mother, please forgive this unfilial son."

When I returned from Dogo—to my surprise—along the temple approach path near my hermitage, numerous stalls had sprung up: penny candy shops, oden stalls! Stuffed bun shops, fruit vendors... At the oden stands, I too gave a wry smile.

Men and women from the neighborhood were preparing feasts in the temple kitchen; the festival was, so to speak, a social gathering.

Worshippers came up here and there; in the afternoon, a goma fire ritual was held in the cemetery square—several solemn monks, a few improvised yamabushi, surrounded by dozens of devotees… The open-air flames of the goma ritual—there was something profound about them.

From the training ground came the frequent sounds of machine guns and shouts of assault.

Today was truly spring weather; warm enough to feel almost cozy. I took off my padded clothing, removed the kotatsu, and even found the brazier to be annoyingly excessive.

I slept leisurely; having received the offerings from the Buddhist altar.

——

“March 6 Entry”

March 7th. Cloudy—a spring-like cloudiness, though not quite reaching the level of flower-clouded skies.—

A leisurely morning sleep—though I say that, I was up by seven. The mail didn’t come this morning; how lonely.

I took pleasure in arranging shepherd’s purse; the spring orchid buds swelled forth.

Desk tidying—calligraphy, letters, manuscripts, and so on.

After sending letters to Ishun, Mr. Saitō, and Mr. Ōyama, I felt relieved—even I was amazed at my own laziness.……

...I too have been wishing to take a new step forward using the publication of this collection—what might be called "Santōka's Complete Haiku Works"—as my turning point; as things stand now, I still can't settle down...

To enjoy old age—to savor sake—I wish to attain such a state.

I wrote such things and sent them off.

"Hang in there!"—I was encouraging myself while holding back the urge for a drink and suppressing my irritability with all my might. I seemed gradually to settle into my true self. Sumita-kun had once expounded on "Santōka Who Has Established His Seat," but this seat must not merely belong to the Issō-an hermitage—it had to become my original seat of being.

When I went out walking, the spring wind whispered through—hazing the air as clouds drifted weightlessly.

In the evening I went to the post office and strolled through town; returning home, I felt some vague bodily and mental unease and went straight to bed.

This slight physical and mental discomfort does me good—for one such as myself.—

A life without unreasonable strain—and consequently without lies.

I want to live like flowing water.

March 8th. Cloudy, light rain.

The neighbor's red plum blossoms were beautiful—Matsuyama has many red plums, and it seems plenty of people favor them—while the drizzling rain felt like spring rain. When I happened to look, there was an unusual rickshaw at the gate; someone must have come to receive prayers. Soon the temple gong began sounding.

For the first time in ages, I heard a bunting's chirping; letters came from various places and went out to various places.

Today's meal tasted good—it had been an uncomplicated day.

・On Kama-meshi

Appendix: On Rice Tubs

・Moss and Grime

March 9th. Cloudy—sunny at times, rainy at others, with wind blowing.

I awoke refreshed.

Because the mail didn’t come, I felt terribly lonely.

Wanting to get cut tobacco—since I couldn’t find any yesterday no matter how hard I tried—I wandered around Furumachi to no avail; having no choice, I bought Bat and returned.

I felt somehow miserable.…

In flower season wind and rain abound; today gusts rose and rain scattered down.

After an early supper I went straight to bed—or rather, a nap would be more fitting—ashamed of my self-indulgence, dreaming many dreams.

Last evening was peaceful; for some reason, a Western couple emerged from the direction of the cemetery talking and then departed.

March 10th. Clear weather.

Nippon-bare weather—Army Memorial Day.

At dawn I visited Gokoku Shrine, then bathed at Dogo Onsen; finding deutzia flowers made me happy.

Military academy students conducted assault drills centering on the training grounds—they even brought machine guns into shrine precincts—cannon roars, barked orders, sword glints under caps.
......

Youth Leagues, Virgins' Associations, National Defense Women's Groups, students, townsfolk...truly a total mobilization posture. I too threw open my hermitage doors to honor this day.

Received pickled lees from the neighbor and mixed rice from the temple—what an enormous stomach!
Even I was aghast at myself—utterly!

Today I saw this year's first butterfly—a single cabbage white.

I made a brief trip to the postbox—on the way met Brother Ishun, who said he'd depart tomorrow morning to visit Monk Sumita—so I asked him to convey regards from Old Man Donbiki.

Ms. Fusa came to the hermitage but left right away—what a pitiful figure she made retreating!

The neighbor's boy has caught two mountain hare kits; claims he snatched them while they played in a sunny mountain spot. The parent hares must be frantic—I always think: no creature matches humans for selfishness, cruelty, shamelessness and cunning!

In the afternoon I went to the post office again and, taking the opportunity, strolled along Ōkaidō after a long time; Matsuyama gave the impression of not being soiled.

On the way—at the training ground—I picked up a red drawstring pouch meant for girls; it was brand new with nothing inside. I'll give it to someone's daughter!

Today was truly rare weather; from morning till evening it was clear and warm, and for me too it was a modest day.

March 11th. Cloudy—rain.

After rising early and finishing tidying up completely, I heard the great drums of Shinonome Shrine sound, followed by those of Gokoku Shrine.

―I made a fundoshi—using an old waistcloth!
With my hemorrhoids acting up, I need a special handmade fundoshi to get by!

The cold rain began falling—I couldn’t complain after yesterday’s perfection—but having no umbrella left me stranded from reaching the post.

A raw-chill day—ah, how I crave a drink!

It had been over a week without a single drop—surely some strain must have accumulated!

He remained indoors—silently did not leave his desk all day.

When I noticed how cold it was today and saw that the distant mountains were faintly tinged with snow, I suddenly felt the chill and pulled out the kotatsu again.……

"Nagi leaves"

March 12th. Clear.

In the morning, I went to the post—luckily finding a bag of deutzia.

A woman at the temple was doing laundry, making red cloth flutter—has spring come to the temple too!

——Gradually the food runs out——It's cold—I feel uneasy.

——In the evening I cooked and ate all the rice I had, sprinkling sesame salt over it——and still devoured several bowls! My stomach is strong—so strong!

Messages to friends—

The spring of Iyoji grew more beautiful each day; since moving here, thanks to that, I was able to live quite carefreely, and my old habit of deliberately seeking out suffering was gradually corrected……

Sprouting grass where one could die calmly.

The monk came for a talk; we engaged in aimless small talk, but he turned out to be a more understanding and modern old man regarding literature and the arts than I had expected.

In the afternoon, I strolled around Matsuyama—from Tachibana to the outskirts (I visited Mr. Shurindō’s grave; last autumn when I had come late at night, I had been drunk and often acted improperly—a fact that had weighed on my conscience—but now I could finally rest easy).

A calm sleep—a sleep that could not be exchanged for thousands upon ten thousands of gold pieces.

March 13th. Clear—cloudy, then wind, rain.

Got up as soon as I awoke—it must have been around four o’clock—immediately began writing; after breakfast, read.

The mail came, and then mild disappointment—because what I’d been waiting for without really waiting hadn’t arrived.

My tobacco ran out. Hold back—keep holding back. Do I want a drink? I want one! Wait—wait.

Don’t push yourself; don’t rush—just keep telling yourself.
——
I had business at the post office,and then strolled around Matsuyama—viewed local specialties at the product exhibition hall, read newspapers at the library, observed military drills.
In the evening,I went to the post office again and then dropped by Fuji-kun’s place—what a lively,warm household it was.They treated me to sake,fish,tobacco……Returning in a mellow mood,I went straight to bed—a night without haiku or dreams.Ah,the kindness of others!

The aftertaste—how delicious sake is!
The ten-day-abstinent sake had another exceptional flavor—spring thunder becoming an amusement within the drink itself.

In a certain matter, I was made to confront my own insignificance.

My Daily Routine These Days

• 8:00 Mail
Morning: Work
• 10:00 Newspaper
Afternoon: Stroll, visits, guests arriving.
Nighttime: Study
Reading
Revision

March 14th. Cloudy—clear.

I rose with the great drum of Shinonome Shrine, still sleep-deprived yet in a carefree mood.

Fasting!
There was no food, so I decided to fast as a method of cleansing body and mind; sipping bitter tea, I wrote.

The mail came a bit late this morning, leaving me with mild disappointment.

Skipping lunch, I headed out to the post office. I visited Ishun, Warei, and Musui-kun to discuss plans for the haiku monument and meeting. With my stomach growling emptily, even strolling held no pleasure, so I returned early. Back home, I remained unsteady on my feet.

In the evening, I visited Ishun’s residence—he was still away on his lecture trip. I explained my situation to his wife and borrowed rice. The kinder she was, the more ashamed I felt.

The neighbor's boy said the baby mountain hare had died—that was true, and it was such a pitiful thing.

The meal was ready—first to Buddha, then to Santōka!

I ate well and slept well.

"O baby mountain hare"

March 15th. Cloudy.

I rose before dawn, tidied my belongings, sat in quiet meditation and read.

Early morning visit to Gokoku Shrine and bath at Dogo Onsen; lingering winter chill and spring cold—unexpectedly chilly.

——Finally, even the salt had run out!

In the afternoon, as usual, I strolled around Matsuyama—visited Shōshū-ji Temple, Shikidō Hall, and the Hair-Burial Pagoda of Layman Shiki and Venerable Meisetsu; the absence of a main hall felt desolate.

In the evening, I grew sleepy and got into bed; just like that, I fell asleep. Such is the carefree ease of a solitary slacker.

Rice and water and fire

March 16th. Clear, quite cold.

In bed, I heard the dawn great drum.

How good to eat and sleep well (though not so for smooth movements—these ruptured hemorrhoids!).

Mumonkan Case 2: Hyakujō and the Wild Fox.

I tasted rice—literally, truly, nothing but rice. Of course no side dish remained—the salt had run out (abstaining from drink and smoke goes without saying).

My daily "Matsuyama strolls" ritual was canceled today—this cloudy cold left me without vigor to go out nor margin to walk. How weakened I've become! Santōka, pull yourself together!

The temple gave me a plate of mustard-pickled eggplant; under today’s circumstances, it was especially appreciated—delicious.

It was truly a modest day.

From an afternoon nap to an early bedtime—just like that，snoring away.

March 17th. Alternately sunny and cloudy, and cold.

The great drum of Shinonome sounded, the great drum of Gokoku sounded—hearing them, I could not stay in bed.

The lingering cold was quite severe; the outside well pump had frozen, and I couldn’t draw water.

The morning glow was beautiful.

Perhaps because the equinoctial week starts tomorrow, grave visits were unending.

I again today stayed indoors, sullen and silent through the day.

March 18th. Cloudy, start of the equinoctial week, clear.

I am an early riser, but this morning was exceptionally early—around four o’clock. Even though everything was in order, the dawn great drum still hadn’t begun to sound. Because it was so cold, I layered on a cotton-padded jacket; it became pleasantly warm.

At last, not a single grain or drop of food remained; though I tried to maintain composure with "emptiness is an inexhaustible storehouse," it proved futile.—

The morning had been cold—flurries of snow seemed ready to scatter—but the afternoon cleared into warmth, becoming a proper spring scene.

I visited Fujii's house, explained my circumstances to his wife, and borrowed rice and soy sauce; shame and gratitude mingled within me.

When I returned, Brother Ishun was waiting—his first visit to my hermitage in some time (though less than ten days) since returning from travels. We spoke nostalgically; reminiscing about Hiiragiya in Hiroshima carried a bittersweet weight.

I received a fresh bottle from Sumita-kun; after some time, I savored the robust sake. Thank you, Sumita-kun! Brother Ishun, thank you so much!

In the afternoon, regarding matters of the haiku gathering and monument, I visited Warei-kun—he was out; visited Musui-kun—also out; then went to Fuji-kun at the post office; even managed to meet Midori-kun.

On my way back, I stopped by Ishun’s place; was invited to dinner and a drink! Then returned home.

The sunset was beautifully solemn.

As it had grown warm, I promptly took off my cotton-padded jacket; my mind and body felt light—a most agreeable state.

I slept peacefully.

What a relief—my first drink in six days, my first smoke in four days—they tasted so good!

March 19th. Clear――Cloudy.

A timely awakening—simultaneous with the great drum's voice from Gokoku Shrine.

Lately I've been living a life that suits me—getting by modestly on seven yen for twenty days...

When I opened my eyes, first thing first—a drink. Thank you, Ōyama-kun, thank you.

The postal worker didn’t stop by and went straight down the lower road!
I took a short walk to the postbox there while I was at it.
Lunch was shoyu rice—delicious, delicious.

I want to eat equinoctial week dumplings!

In the afternoon, another walk—around Teramachi. Truly many temples, nothing but temples. I couldn't find any fresh-cut flowers—wildflowers are scarce in Matsuyama's outskirts—but picked up three haiku.

As evening came, I went out again; first visited Ishun’s place—the master was in a single shirt, tending to the garden—then, without hesitation, was invited in, received a souvenir, and returned to the hermitage at eleven.

Then I stuffed myself with all the sake and rice I had and wielded my brush in drunken, messy scrawls—writing what had to be written brought me peace of mind.

It seemed rain was near; the moon wore a halo, but I wanted to call it a hazy moon.

Around what seemed like just before dawn, I burrowed into bed.

What’s abundant in Matsuyama is—
clinics, shrines and temples, oden shops.

March 20th. Cloudy, spring-like, clear.

I had just begun to doze off when the great drum of Gokoku Shrine began sounding—so I rose.

A clarity came over me; with my writing debts settled, both mind and body felt light.

The first step in East Asia’s new construction—the birth of the New China Central Government; Wang Jingwei makes his grand entrance; Japan and Shina must firmly shake hands.

A rooster crowed incessantly around here; you're a lonely bird too, aren't you? From morning, alarm fires sounded; it was the Dogo Onsen Festival. This morning's mail too—finally arrived—leaving disappointment.

——

I took a walk through the graveyard.
——

A mad beggar wandered; I heard a bush warbler for the first time; the wild camellia I had been searching for was right there in the thicket's shadow.

I arranged the wild camellias; I did like them.

Behind the embankment, I unexpectedly found butterbur sprouts—two of them; promptly boiled them for lunch, savoring their slight bitterness.

I took a walk around there—watched military drills, picked up cigarette butts… How wretched! How pitiful!

From evening came the March regular meeting of the Persimmon Society; only five members visited the hermitage: Ishun, Mitsuchi, Musui, Fuji-kun, and Warei. Tonight’s gathering lacked female participants; it became a congenial haiku session. During the meeting, the concrete plan for erecting the Shurin-dō Haiku Monument somewhat came together—a welcome development; we adjourned around eleven.

There was a moon; a hazy moon.

Thank you for the souvenirs, Mitsuchi-kun, Fuji-kun.

I ate ochazuke and went to bed; due to last night's sleep deprivation, I fell asleep immediately.

――It's because I have no money that I'm alive; it's because I'm poor that I haven't died――that is the truth――in my case.――

March 21st. Clear――Cloudy.

Spring Imperial Ancestral Rite, Spring Equinox, the middle day of Higan.

I slept in until morning had fully broken; the lingering cold was quite intense. When I used water, its chill seeped into my very bones.

I tasted the tuna that Fuji-kun gave me as a souvenir; it was delicious. I love sashimi—if it’s sashimi I like, I can polish off two or three servings in no time.

Wind, wind, wind began to blow—strongly, even stronger.

For the first time in ages, I went out to Dogo to bathe, did some shopping, and returned.

When I came back and looked, there was a plate of red bean rice in the sitting room—probably from the neighbors next door. I am grateful.

The wind finally turned into scattered rain and subsided; I boiled and pickled the mustard greens.

No tobacco. I searched several shops but found none. Reluctantly bought Hikari brand—poor people can't help but get depressed (There is cut tobacco available, but it's all too high-class for the likes of us!).

The night turned vividly moonlit.

I went to bed early and slept soundly.

Today’s Shopping

10 sen —— Steamed bun

10 sen —— Postcard

4 sen —— Bathing fee

5 sen —— Salt

9 sen —— Vegetable leaves

13 sen —— Tobacco

March 22nd. Cloudy——Clear.

It was a quiet dawnbreak, but the spring cold was too harsh; light snow flurried; I once again layered on my padded garments.

A flycatcher sang incessantly nearby. Flycatcher—it seemed there was something flowing between you and me!

The mail did come—it was a happy thing that it came—but there was something lacking.

I ran out of food again.……

I took a walk, visited Warei-san to discuss the Shurin-dō Haiku Monument, and returned early to my hermitage because it was too cold.

For lunch, I was blessed with potatoes and bread.

Today too, the wind—an unpleasant wind—blew.

In the evening, I went out for another walk; stopped by Ishun’s place; Mr. Y was there; I was made to wield my poor brush for a graduation memento; was invited to dinner—this single meal felt as precious as a hundred or a thousand; visited Fuji-kun; discussed various matters before returning to the hermitage; the moon over the drill ground was splendid.

“Things possessed, things unpossessed”

March 23rd. Cloudy——Clear, the 15th day of the second lunar month.

"Spring sleep knows not dawn"—or so they say; even I, who am usually prone to insomnia, find myself sleeping endlessly these days.……

No breakfast—I’m a starving old man!

Today’s the day I get to meet Sumita-kun—I’m so happy!

A registered letter from Ken—thank you, thank you, my deepest gratitude.

I immediately headed into town to shop; the load was heavy—my stomach was growling with hunger!

Truly spring—good day after good day after great day.

One cup, another cup, yet another cup!

Again to town, again shopping.

I received dango from the temple; they were delicious.

To Dogo for a haircut and bath; stopped by Fuji-kun’s place to repay the rice money; with one debt settled, I could finally breathe.

――There was rice, there was charcoal, there was salt; and there was tobacco, there were books; and then again, there was sake.――

As evening fell, I went to Dogo again to meet Sumita-kun; at nine o'clock we met—Ōyama-kun, Ikeue-kun, Fuji-kun, Ishun-kun, Tsujita-kun, and Santōka—bathed together in the hot springs, ate udon together, then parted ways as I alone returned to Issō-an.

I fell asleep immediately due to drunkenness and exhaustion.

Today’s Shopping

50 sen —— Postcard stamps

50 sen —— Bancha

1 yen 30 sen —— Sake

20 sen —— Soy sauce

24 sen —— Dried sardines

30 sen —— Shaved bonito flakes

90 sen —— Rice

23 sen —— Barley

1 yen 80 sen —— Charcoal

17 sen —— Grated daikon

14 sen —— Camellia oil

6 sen —— Green onions

1 yen —— Rice money repayment

25 sen —— Glico gift

30 sen —— Haircut

4 sen —— Bath fee

16 sen —— Soy sauce jar

28 sen —— Miscellaneous items

Behold this shopping!

March 24th. Clear.

Early rising—first I resolve: I must refrain from sake, I must savor sake.

The spring cold bites sharply—or so one might say.

As noon approached, SUMI-KUN,I-KUN,and FUJI-KUN—the three of them came to the hermitage; just as we were sipping bitter tea and chatting,the rumored KIYOSHI-KUN paid a visit.

Everyone went out together to that place—KIYOSHI-KUN and I headed to the Higher Commercial School while the three of them went to RYUON TEMPLE for the training session.

At the Higher Commercial School,I chatted with TAKAHASHI-SAN for a while and was treated to rice curry;then we two took the train to DOGO to bathe had Skewer One and Skewer Two at an oden stall rode the train to ŌKAIDŌ where we joined up with T-SAN,and we three drank again;then M-SAN also joined in,and we devoured tempura and soba……Here I excused myself and returned alone just as the sixteenth-night moon began illuminating the training ground.

――The sashimi, tempura, soba—all were delicious; the sake wasn't bad either; I drank like a horse as never before.

March 25th. Clear――cloudy――rain.

I slept in leisurely.

Quietly settled to read.

Warm and cozy, drowsy and dozy.

In the afternoon came my usual Matsuyama stroll—to the Ōkaidō post office.

Lately I seem to be overeating again; must restrain myself, must restrain.

March 26th. Rain; looked like it might clear up.

I got up early; it was raining; our long-planned group trip to Yu Mountain seemed likely canceled.

From morning the alarm bell rang; I prayed it wasn’t a fire.

The pickled takana was delicious; since I was the one who had made it and was eating it, it felt especially satisfying. A soft drizzle fell—truly spring rain. Japanese white-eyes came out and flitted about chirping; an aristocratic assembly.

As three o'clock approached, as promised, a large group came to the hermitage—Sumi-kun, I-kun, Taka-kun, Fuji-kun, and Tsuji-kun.

The drinking party promptly began—pork, tofu, offal, leafy greens—a hermitage feast-like gathering, a boisterous blend where host and guest merged into one. Everyone ate voraciously and chattered endlessly; I drank recklessly and babbled incessantly.

After nightfall we straggled into Dogo's hot springs, and though we went our separate ways—I—ah, I doubled back and drank alone again, then shamefully spewed out greed and stupidity!

Returned late and sank into dreamless sleep.……

March 27th. Clear.

――I was drunk, drank more, got even drunker――Sumita-kun came to the hermitage; you clearly recoiled at my drunken state――then Ishun-kun arrived too; we three descended upon Dogo’s Yaegaki Inn; I alone was served sake; we three wielded our clumsy brushes in wild strokes; in the evening, we headed by car to Iyo Railway Hall’s lecture event, where for the first time I heard Sumi-kun’s lecture――wasn’t bad at all.

Hurriedly, I returned alone in loneliness; in the fleetingness and poignancy of sobering up, I blamed myself and apologized to myself!

March 28th. Clear.

Spring light filled the world; self-restraint and self-admonishment; I refrained from solitude, deliberately did not visit Sumi-kun, stayed indoors, and savored the tranquil leisure.

In the afternoon, Ishun-kun kindly came to visit me; thank you.

Mr. Kikuchi Gogan passed away; recalling the past, I grew lonely—ah.

Meeting too many people isn't good; though humans live among humans, I should sometimes step away from humanity to observe humanity—myself included—I seem to have been interacting with others too much lately; I must reflect on this.

March 29th. Clear――cloudy.

Body and mind finally calm; honest and modest.

Received a letter from An-kun; thank you very much.

Bathed at Dogo; relaxed; saw this year's first swallow—a good bird it was.

In the afternoon went to Ōkaidō for a movie (having received a ticket), but found it uninteresting; returned weary and retired early.

The crystalline clarity of Sixteenth Night moonlight.

March 30th. Cloudy, then rain.

I slept in; the morning glow was beautiful, but it turned to rain—somehow gloomy.

I finally managed to find some cut tobacco, but twelve sen for Ayame is too much—I hate living like a poor man trying to imitate the rich!

Eating is important, but do not become bound by eating.

Do not judge; even if you judge yourself, do not judge others.

Reflecting brings much shame, much regret; a life without shame, a life without regret—that is the life I want to live.

March 31st. Cloudy.

My body and mind were slightly out of sorts; I felt uncomfortable all day.

The establishment of the New Central Government of China and the articles about relocating the capital to Nanjing imparted solemnity; they compelled me to consider myriad things—they spoke of National Spiritual Mobilization, they spoke of building a New East Asian Order, they spoke of unceasing black-market dealings, they spoke of insufficient national discipline, they spoke of unfair sacrifices... Even someone like me could not help feeling indignation toward myself and others.

April 1st. Cloudy, light rain.

For the first time in days, I rose from bed; my body and mind remained unwell; alone, I secretly vowed to start anew.

The spring orchids began to bloom; arranging one or two on the desk, I rejoiced.

Select haiku. Study. Laziness is worse than anything.

To Dogo: cut my nails, shaved my face; bought miso and daikon then returned—miso at 100 momme for eleven sen, daikon one for five sen.

Here and there, cherry blossoms began to bud.

Yesterday received mixed rice from the neighbor; today red bean rice from the temple—gratitude upon gratitude.

April 2nd. Cloudy.

I rose with the dawn; body and mind felt light. The morning moon was crisp and clear; for the first time in ages, I tasted miso soup.

I headed out to the postbox; strolling leisurely, I stopped by Brother Ishun’s place; then together we took a walk through Dogo Park; gazing up at the white magnolia, I lost myself in memories of my Danoura days.

A warm wind blew boisterously; hore grass bloomed; flies emerged――

In the evening came another walk; I searched for cut tobacco but found none; I bought some lettuce instead—one plant for one sen! So cheap! So cheap!

My stomach growls needlessly!
How characteristic of me—that sigh!
In a letter to a certain friend――

……Within me lies this knot of contradictions I cannot unravel; all I can do is cradle them close and manage a thin smile……

Since then， I did not go out much or refill gasoline， maintaining modesty appropriate to the times.

Iyoji had become fully cloaked in spring scenery, but this spring let us wait quietly; a waiting heart—that was something I believed to be important; calmly, quietly, quietly, and then quietly.
……

April 3rd. Rain, wind.――

The rain poured and poured—a relentless deluge that lasted all day, ruining my carefully planned ceremonial occasion.

I read the Mumonkan.

――Everything is fading into nothingness――nothingness, nothingness, nothingness must be pursued to exhaustion.――

By afternoon the weather turned stormy; winds raged fiercely, ripping corrugated iron from the roof and scattering blossoms torn from their stems—a spring tempest, this rain that coaxes flowers to bloom even as its winds tear them away. I lay in bed listening to the gale through the day.

April 4th. Clear.

The quiet cold after the storm.
In the morning, two or three cups of bitter tea.

Poverty is tough—searching out pawnable items, I barely managed to scrape together just enough for immediate living expenses.……

I arrange nameless grasses; the chishamomi greens were delicious.

I drink because I can’t help it; when I drink, I get drunk; when I’m drunk, I lose control—alas, alas.

April —th. Clear, cloudy, rain, wind.――

Walking, sake, flowers, people, regret…

―Should I receive? Steal? Find? Buy?―

One night, I was invited to a feast and grew despondent.

The cherry blossoms were blooming; it was bitterly cold.

For days now—yesterday, today—I’ve been lying in bed; I’ve lost all strength to get up.

One turn, two turns, three turns, and then.—

Anytime, anywhere—flowers in full bloom, people thriving.

May 8th. Clear.

I rose early and cleaned.

At my father’s nineteenth memorial service; I prostrated before the family altar, wringing hot tears of repentance—the depression grew unbearable; bathed at Dogo Onsen; wandered through nearby fields.

――

――

――

May 27th. Clear.

Early rising and departure—on a journey to Chūgoku and Kyushu; via the nine o'clock steamship, I headed to Hiroshima.

Body and mind were despondent, though I remained composed—this journey was in truth my flight—I wandered through a state where even death could not release me.

The sea calm—arrived at Ujina by one o'clock—took the train to visit Monk Donko at his workplace—was allowed to stay at his home—entered a fine bath—received a delicious dinner—ah, Monk Donko—Monk Donko's household—how quiet and warm—I too relaxed and sank into quiet contemplation.

Evening; Mr. Gotō visited; the three of us talked quietly.

I, the accursed one, could not sleep until late.

May 28th. Cloudy.

Early rising; everyone wished for a rain shower.

The usual overdrinking and overeating led to some stomach pain and diarrhea; I must restrain myself; I have to.

In the morning, Mrs. [Donko] went to Dogo; I went to Yamaguchi.

――

To Koi by bus and train; the fare was seven sen—how cheap, I thought it wasteful; luckily boarded the nine o'clock train.

The bus clamored; the train dragged dreary.

At noon, I alighted at Tokuyama, called on Hakusenkyo; here too came an invitation—old friends' warmth lingering.

At three, by train to Yamaguchi; arrived at four; sought out Y-kun; summoned M-kun; three of us dined at some ryotei in Yuda—drank our fill, talked our fill; Y-kun's hush against M-kun's prattle made queer counterpoint.

Late at night, I returned to the mountain; I imposed on Y-kun; we talked about various things until late.……

When clouds gather, waves rise—spring’s departing sea steeped in gloom.

Islands scattered—the sea shifts toward summer.

A day sunlit—one man’s solitary labor

Hollyhock House (Sumita’s Residence)

Sparrows chatter through morning’s gentle waking

Wind of early summer gusts briskly onward—

Young leaves swell lushly, breathing out their scent.

Early summer wind glitters—whirlpool’s edge

Self-Mockery

At sixty—this restless heart still crosses seas.

May 29th. Clear.

Early morning walk—the city’s dream hadn’t quite lifted from Yamaguchi; to me, this was a town steeped in memories. (If Kumamoto could be called my second hometown,) then this might as well have been my third.

At nine, I said my goodbyes; visited Jumei-kun in Ogori; chatted and laughed together after so long; scribbled out a few half-size sheets as requested; the plum shochu had been good—so good.

In Ogori, I also met K-kun and O-kun; Ogori might as well have been my fourth hometown.

In the evening, I returned to Yamaguchi and managed to visit S-kun; I was deeply moved by his kindness.

At night, I met M-kun and drank at K-ya; Y-kun never showed up—somehow, everyone was out of sorts.

As usual, I went bar-hopping through oden shops, and then got dead drunk and caused a commotion—ah.

May 30th. Clear.

Around ten o'clock, I left S-kun's room and bathed in Yuda—though I love hot springs, I detest this place called Yuda; nothing but my wretched memories clings to Yuda. No—it's not Yuda that's bad; I myself am at fault.

Reflection—remorse—melancholy.—

I hurriedly boarded the train and rushed toward Kyushu; at three o'clock crossed the Kanmon Strait—the depth of my emotions overwhelmed me.

In Moji, after long separation I met Reireika-kun; at an oden shop we drank fine sake—how glad I was.

By train to Yahata; fortunately, Seijōshi-kun was at home. Accompanying him, we visited Kyōsho Residence—they were home—talked together, ate together, bathed together; also met Iko.

There, I got appropriately drunk and was allowed to sleep as I was.

The scarecrow imposing, butterflies fluttering around it.

The hometown flowers bloom fragrantly—yet even so,

Yuda

Fireflies, come, come—flying over big bridges and small bridges.

Playing alone with a mandarin orange as a beanbag.

When I open the window, the wind blows through the green rice field—cool.

Kanmon Scenery

Whirlpools flowed, butterflies lined up—

Kyōsho Residence

In the morning sky, red and black carp streamers swam.

May 31st. Clear.

My mood had improved somewhat—

In the morning, I visited T-kun who lay bedridden.

After nine, I went to Seijōshi Residence and received a meal his wife had prepared with care. Seijōshi-kun was a man hard to approach, but once approached, he proved warm—in any case, a straightforward man through and through.

In the afternoon I departed; took the train to Kurosaki, then the steam train to Akama, from there the bus to Kannominato; paid respects at Rinsenji Temple; shook hands with Monk Toshi; lingered awhile.

I was guided to the previous inn and entertained; though I felt bad about it, I ate and ate, drank and drank—it was delicious, so delicious.

We laid down side by side in bed, but I alone couldn’t sleep at all.

Kannominato Coast

Footprints on the sand—how far do they stretch?

As it clears, as it clouds over—the waves dance playfully.

In the departing spring night, somewhere a clock tolls.

Having come far—scorching clouds torn to shreds.

June 1st. Cloudy.

Asia Development Service Day—there was no sake, but that was to be expected—gratefully, breakfast was pure Japanese rice.

After eight o'clock, I departed by bus—goodbye, goodbye... thank you, thank you.

Before noon, I arrived at Akaike; got a haircut in front of the station and visited Ryokuheiki Residence; he was away at work—his wife promptly served chilled tofu and beer; I ate gratefully.

Ryokuhei filled me with longing; Ryokuheiki Residence filled me with longing.

In the evening, the master returned home; he ate heartily, ate heartily.

Late into the night we talked; ah, how I longed for Ryokuhei.

Ryokuheiki Residence

A few eggplant seedlings that look like they’ll get rained on.

June 2nd. Sunny, cloudy.

Even here I tasted pure Japanese rice; it made me contemplate what it means to be Japanese.…

In the morning, I was alone and at ease.

At two o’clock, I took my leave; at four, boarded the ship at Wakamatsu. The waves calm as we headed to Shikoku—to my own bed.
——

Aboard ship—everyone was tormented by bedbugs; they scratched at their bodies while forcing bitter smiles. Meals of pure foreign rice spilled everywhere. Though it was a decrepit vessel—as we lay sprawled out sleeping—eastward ever eastward; southward ever southward.

——

June 3rd. Clear.

The scenery at dawn was beautiful and delightful.

Under the vast sky, upon the great sea.

The ship’s progress was delayed, and we arrived at Takahama close to eleven o’clock.

June 4th. Clear.

Rest.
I felt summer.
I went out shopping, and then fell apart piece by piece.

……………………………

Bareness—a lone fruit drops.

June 23rd.

……Late at night, while returning home drunk, I slipped and fell—scraped my forehead, broke my glasses, my hat flew off.……

Crime and Punishment!
Cause and effect are inevitable—they cannot be evaded.

June 28th. Cloudy—rain.

Brother Ishun came to the hermitage and saw my settled state; this foolish I, at fifty-nine years old, came to realize fifty-nine years of wrongdoing.

Hot, hot—everyone heard the first cicada’s cry.

Every now and then a scrap dealer would come by and buy old newspapers and rice bags and such—a grand total of 1 yen 34 sen—I was saved; promptly went out to do all sorts of shopping.

Flies, flies, mosquitoes, mosquitoes.—

Flies could be swatted or endured if necessary, but mosquitoes were a nuisance—anytime, anywhere, they silently stabbed; itchy, itchy.

Tonight again I couldn’t sleep; it was two consecutive nights of staying awake—I did not weaken; my mind and body felt clear and transparent.

Today's Purchases

54 sen: 2 gō of sake

11 sen: 100 monme of red miso

8 sen: 200 monme of onions

8 sen: two sheets of flypaper

6 sen: one block of tofu

4 sen: one bundle of chisa greens

June 28th. Rain—cloudy.

At Dogo, I downed a drink and took a bath in the hot spring.

At times I was attacked by fits of drunkenness; hallucinations came and went incessantly around me.

At night, feeling lonely, I visited Teika Honei; he was out, so I turned back. On the way, I ate udon—it was delicious.

June 30th. Rain.

It fell, it fell…the comforting force of the downpour; it fell abundantly; we were granted ample water.

Step by step through life and death—I resolved to study the I Ching.

Putting mind and body in order.—

To various friends—

——Mr.

I too had finally reached the moment when transformation ripened; with those listless clouds of dissipation gone, I returned to my original realm of being.

The rainy season does as rainy seasons do—and Santōka does as Santōka does.

They were three months of torment—of anguish that clawed at my chest—a wandering through life-and-death’s muddy swamp.

With sincerity and cheer, in poverty yet dignity, I shall become my own light.

“Develop a mind that alights nowhere”—still I cannot complete this pivotal verse.

Before long again.

Humans—especially myself—reek so much I can hardly bear it at times; could my constitution be abnormal?

More than sake, more than rice—what truly matters?!

July 1st. Partly sunny, partly cloudy—Asia Revival Public Service Day.

I woke early, cleaned quickly, and visited Gokoku Shrine.

Self-reflection and restraint; limitless remorse; humble resolve.

There was nothing to eat. I emptied my wallet—found forty-seven sen—took it and went out to buy one shō of foreign rice!
Thirty-eight sen remained.

The clearer it got, the hotter it became; I did laundry and such.

Completely out of tobacco—I’d been holding out since yesterday, but now and then I found myself wanting a smoke more than a drink.

In the evening, I finally got hold of a bath—thank you, thank you.

July 2nd. Clear.

This morning too I rose early; the neighbor’s clock struck five times.

Organized my surroundings; discarded everything I could.

It seemed the rainy season had ended early; it got hot—there was a feeling of true midsummer midday.

In the evening, Brother Ishun came to visit.

At times a king’s heart,
at times a beggar’s heart—
Living is hard, yet I live.

July 3rd. Clear skies.

Early to bed and early to rise—I was putting that into practice.

The mail came, but the awaited mail did not arrive; yesterday and today, literally not a single coin!

The radiance of the sky, the intensity of the sunlight—summer arrived in earnest.

As dusk fell, I couldn’t wait—headed to Ōkaidō; at the usual shop, on credit, gulped down a cup; this one hit hard—it really hit hard.

In the evening, another walk—to Musui’s place, then Warei’s; the three of us engaged in casual conversation.

I slept soundly.

July 4th. Clear.

Without a trace of cloud shadows, the sky cleared completely; the brilliant sun rose calmly—how lovely a summer morning is.

This morning there was nothing to eat; I'd manage by drinking water!

I went to the school to visit Brother Ishun but couldn't meet him; I went around to his residence and borrowed just one shō of mixed rice from his wife.

It was a grateful one shō and a shameful one shō.

Rice planting had finally begun in this area; within a single day, the paddies turned green—it was a fine sight indeed.

The storm over Europe and Asia grew ever more urgent; even someone like me, huddled in a corner, felt my heart pound wildly.

A certain haiku poet visited; we talked about aimless things for a while, but he was a bit strange—he seemed to lack manners.

On my evening walk, I managed to get a drink and a smoke—thank goodness.

The monk came for a talk; we chatted about casual matters while being bitten by mosquitoes.

A good meal, then sound sleep.

Receiving isn't just about gratitude—it's noble. I lack the right to receive; I'm neither refined nor polished.

July 5th. Clear, clear, clear.

An excessively early rising—

First the great drum of Shinonome Shrine, then the great drum of Gokoku Shrine, then, and then.—
Summer was splendid—mornings in particular were splendid.

What I was waiting for didn’t come this morning either; I, for my part, maintained temperance nearing abstinence.

"The Calm After the Typhoon"

Waking from a nap, I watched cloud mountains rise.

Resolved to never leave my gate, I sat alone reading quietly.

For my evening walk I went to the countryside; someone gave me an oleander branch.

I slept soundly.

July 6th. Clear.

The splendor of dawn.

Sincerely, and modestly.—

Not coming, not coming—I’m worn out from waiting. Not coming, not coming.

――It was utterly a nightmare—no other words could describe my actions this spring. Ah, that was truly a nightmare! Now I came to devote myself in step with the times. It was not so much a lack of understanding of the current situation as a split in my very self. I finally reclaimed my original landscape.

I must study, I must study—as a haiku poet, I must contribute to Japanese literature to the best of my ability.

Today was also terribly hot—every day over thirty degrees, it was like the dog days of summer.

In the evening, as usual, I went for a walk and then read.

*A Blade of Grass: Idle Talk*

Tofu and pickled radish.

July 7th. Cloudy.

The Third Anniversary of the Incident—today was profoundly moving in every sense; I must firmly grasp today’s understanding.

In the early morning, I visited Gokoku Shrine; individuals and groups continued arriving in an unbroken stream to pay their respects.

At noon, the hundred million united as one in silent prayer from afar.

Because of a certain matter, I felt ashamed of feeling ashamed—a mass of contradictions!

I borrowed one shō of rice from next door; it was tough.

I was troubled by the urge to have just a small drink.

In the evening, I went for a walk; I circled Castle Mountain.
When I suddenly woke up, there was a pleasant sound of rain.

July 8th. Cloudy.

The small birds sang without doubt or hesitation, joyfully and cheerfully.

Hot from morning—the muggy heat was oppressive; I spent the day naked.
—

From the rear, a black-tailed skimmer dragonfly wobbled through and away.

I received payment for the haiku collection from Yanagawa—thank you, this saved me. I immediately went out to town and bought various things; with limited cash but endless items to choose from, every purchase required careful consideration. For the first time in a week, I laid eyes on money!

I finished the Teiyū haiku selection and breathed a sigh of relief.

For the first time in ages—no, truly for the first time in ten days—I went to Dogo Bathhouse; regrettably, I couldn't manage a proper drink (this month I've only had two drinks total, and since I've been restraining myself steadfastly, my drinking habits have improved remarkably).

What had happened—had there been some trouble with the ship?—none of the newspapers arrived this morning. A newspaper-less morning left me feeling a loneliness like having a tooth knocked out.

In the evening I went to Ishun's place—attended the Persimmon Gathering; though attendees were few—just five of us: the Tsukimura couple, Old Ishun, Warei-kun, and myself—it turned out to be a calm, quietly meaningful gathering.

I returned to my hermitage nearing midnight; as I ate the leftover rice and read *Bungei Shunju*, before I knew it, night had given way to dawn……

Insomnia and inability—which of these?

—

Today’s Shopping

22 sen Postcard stamps

30 sen Wood-shavings hat

76 sen Imported rice, 2 shō

23 sen Pressed barley, 1 shō

30 sen Bat scraper

30 sen Barber fee

4 sen Bath fee

6 sen Tofu, one block

5 sen Pickled radish, half a piece

70 sen Electricity fee

Total: 2 yen 96 sen

Balance remaining: 4 sen.

July 9th. Cloudy.

A predawn earthquake; I woke and rose immediately. The great drum of Shinonome Shrine sounded first, then Gokoku Shrine's followed.

A letter arrived from Yakumo Shorin; I collected my remaining royalties. To Furumachi I went, then out to Ōkaidō—paying what debts I could settle, buying what goods I could afford.

I returned thoroughly drunk and collapsed straight into bed—after five or six dry days, that drink truly walloped me……

Of today's purchases, these three proved worthwhile:
—
30 sen Plums, one kin
50 sen Luckyo sake, one shō

25 sen Mackerel, one fish

July 10th. Cloudy—Rain.

I woke early, slightly hungover. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Today again to town—again I drink, one cup becomes two, two becomes three—Ah.
—

Old Ishun came to the hermitage in the afternoon; I borrowed a little—my apologies.
—
I was happy to pay the electricity fee.

July 11th. Cloudy—Clear.

Unusually slept in; tidied my surroundings.

Old Ishun came to the hermitage; why couldn't I be composed like you? All I could do was reflect and feel ashamed. It seemed he was finally setting off tomorrow on a journey from San'in to Kyoto, Osaka, and Tokyo—I was lonely.

Under the scorching sky, I prayed with palms together.

The world's upheavals were growing increasingly urgent.

July 12th. Cloudy.

From Sumita-kun and from Saku-kun I received pocket money; my heart swelled with gratitude.

I went out; did some shopping; then viewed "History"—a good film unlike any recently.

In the afternoon came a great evening cloudburst; the delight of having everything washed clean away.

The night turned sour—what had been crumbling became ragged tatters, what had been melting dissolved into slop!

July 13th. Cloudy.

No good, no good, no good—disappointed in myself, teetering on despair—pull yourself together, Santōka—Santōka, apply yourself fully one last time!

The cicadas began to sing.

Today too there was a sudden afternoon downpour; exhilarating, though not without some worry.

July 14th. Cloudy—Wind—Rain.

My mind and body felt somehow out of sorts; if the mind isn't right, the body isn't right; if the body isn't right, the mind isn't right. I had proved this through my own experience—a sad fact.

The typhoon's aftermath raged on wildly, like my very self.

July 15th. Cloudy—Rain.

Self-restraint and self-discipline; both yesterday and today I stayed indoors, strictly confined myself.

It poured and poured; if it kept raining like this, there would be water troubles again this year—too much water!

Human self-interest, human desires, the human standpoint.

I received a copy of Ōyama-kun’s recent work Loyalty to the Emperor and Zen and read it carefully; I was struck by Lieutenant Colonel Sugimoto and Major Terahara’s sincerity.—

……With deep reverence I read your esteemed work, and was overcome with shame—my own greed—this obsession with sake—I could do nothing but curse it.……

July 16th. Cloudy, occasional rain.

Thunderstorm near dawn; I rose immediately.

Toward a life of pure sincerity.
—

With kind support I went to Dogo, then to Matsuyama; watched parts two and three of History—it was good; had dinner at T-ya for 55 sen—it was delicious.

The weather was gloomy; I myself was gloomy too.

July 17th. Cloudy—Clear—Rain.

Boom-boom—the great drum of Gokoku Shrine.

The death anniversary (estimated) of my late younger brother Jirō; I offered sweets in prayer—Ah, he was too stubborn!

There was a bit of morning sake; what a waste.

I learned the starching method from the neighbor’s wife and starched yukata and undergarments.

It was hot enough to clear the skies; Brother Ishun came to the hermitage.

Tidying my surroundings; literary obligations, calligraphy tasks.

By evening, the sky took on the appearance of another downpour.

July 18th. Clear.

I woke at four; the dawning world’s splendor, its profound grace.

Without complaint, while reflecting.—

I bought rice and barley; two gō of imported rice and one gō of pressed barley were my sustenance for the day—a life of gratitude. When I forgot gratitude, that was when I fell into depravity.

I ate an early lunch without breakfast; fully, even excessively so.

In the afternoon, I went to Dogo Onsen.

Prime Minister Yonai resigned; the imperial command to form a cabinet was bestowed upon Prince Konoe—Japan, the East, the world are transforming at a rapid clip; old systems crumble moment by moment as new orders take shape moment by moment—we desperately, desperately crave stability in these times; to achieve this, we burn for strong governance—status quo adherents, fall back; fresh faces, step forth; let us sublimate this provisional existence and build a new life.—

The world as it simply is

Human existence as it simply becomes

Refinement, and then clarity.

July 19th. Clear.

I woke early but kept still until daybreak because there were too many mosquitoes; the morning flowing in—Ah, how fine the morning was, especially a summer morning.

Intending to finish writing poem cards, half-size scrolls, and tea ceremony scrolls, I ground ink and spread out paper—but no matter what I couldn’t muster the motivation, so I borrowed money for sake and headed into town. And ah—once again I laid bare my very worst self!

Idiot!
Fool!
Idiot!
Fool!
What a disgrace! What foolishness!

Self-restraint.

“Self-regulated life”

July 20th. Clear, the start of midsummer.

Unbearable gloom.
—
All sins I now confess—I knelt and prayed.—
In the afternoon, there was thunder but little rain; there too I saw myself.

Self-restraint—what is noble is self-restraint; self-restraint is the path of life.……

Free-verse haiku—natural law—life’s principle

July 21st. Clear—Cloudy.

My body and mind settled somewhat.

In the afternoon, I went to Dogo—a bath and a drink.

While it was still light, I shut myself in the mosquito net and read.

Uneventful—all too uneventful.—

July 22nd. Cloudy—Clear.

What I was waiting for didn’t come, and the bush mosquitoes kept stinging relentlessly, so I grew a bit irritated.
……

I completely settled my literary and calligraphy debts and sighed in relief—today had been especially hot; how many times had it climbed past thirty degrees?

While I was out to the postbox—

Rōken Manjū—one package—ten sen

Cucumber—one—ten sen

“One matter, one mind.”

┌Demon………God┐
Art┤ ├Writer's Life
└Art………Way┘

July 23rd. Clear.

Every day is a good day; every matter is also a good matter.

New National Lifestyle System—I too will align my steps with its first stride—freshness, fortitude, trust, diligence.—

In the afternoon came an evening shower; it turned cool.

To Dogo—took a bath and had a drink!
Today my geta broke along the way, so I walked barefoot for the first time in ages.

At night came the rare sound of a shamisen from Dogo’s direction.

July 24th. Clear, sometimes cloudy.

Early morning, I visited Gokoku Shrine.

The morning coolness—somehow I sensed autumn. "Mid-doyo yet an autumn breeze."

Thank you, Ken—thank you—I went straight to town, paid what I could pay, bought what I could buy, then drank what I could drink and ate what I could eat—thank you thank you.

A package arrived from Junsuko containing various items; the dried tuna was a welcome treat. I shared portions with the neighbors and temple.

In the afternoon to Dogo—then again at evening to Furu-machi; feeling somehow lonely, I talked haiku with Musui awhile. On returning I detoured through Ōkaidō but meekly went back to my hermitage and slept peacefully.

Today was truly a great success—hallelujah, hallelujah! The summer festival (Tenjin Festival) drew a large crowd.

July 25th. Clear.

July nears its end—Ah... Ah... The year has passed its midpoint—Ah... Ah... I too will turn sixty—Ah... Ah...

This morning too I rose early as usual—but my stomach and bowels fared poorly; the result of overdrinking, the inescapable fate of a drunkard!
Self-restraint—self-restraint.

Arranging my favorite morning glories to comfort myself.

This afternoon again to Dogo—one bath and one drink mean bliss upon bliss!
The blazing sun kept blazing on and on; what truly delicious sake it was—and how gradually bittersweet that sake became......
Come evening I headed toward Furu-machi—shared idle chatter at Warei's quarters.
Then came staggering... stumbling... reeling... No good—no good—no good—no good—utterly no good!

July 26th. Clear.

Early in the morning, I walked barefoot around the drill ground; what I'd dropped wasn't there...

Reflection—I'll seclude myself for a while, I must do it, I can't not do it.—
Yet I can't discard the self itself.
...

Though ashamed, I borrowed one shō of rice from the neighbor.

I spent today in a daze.

When I reluctantly removed the wasp nest at the entrance, they returned and kept buzzing without ever leaving—it was pitiful, the pathos of living things.

A Blade of Grass: Idle Talk

July 27th. Clear, cloudy in the morning.

With a sincere heart—I slept well.

I read Biographies of Bashō-School Haiku Poets.

In the evening，this year’s first large brown cicadas sang；their ‘tsuku-tsuku-boshi’ rhythm still wasn’t quite right.

Tonight again，sound asleep.—

July 28th. Clear.

After waking up, the clock struck four; my mind and body were at peace.

In the afternoon, to Dogo—though it was terribly hot along the way, the scorching midsummer sun felt welcome—look! Vast green rice fields sway luxuriantly—truly, this is the blessed scenery of the Land of Abundant Reed Plains and Bountiful Rice Ears.

Now occurred what might be called a calamity at Ichisō-an: while boiling water, the kettle’s bottom fell out, and moreover the hearth collapsed; this isn’t an auspicious sign—I won’t be able to eat!
This might be a precursor!

Self-restraint—self-restraint. Caution—caution.

In the evening, while taking a walk, I went out to the rental bookstore, borrowed Fujin Kōron, and returned home.

The growing tension in national life pleases me most of all; the new order is gradually forming; what could the establishment of the East Asian New Order be if not a solemn fact? Face reality directly; we must actualize our consciousness as Japanese people.—

July 29th. Clear.

I woke up very early, but since there was no rice—no rice at all—I drank brushwood tea and endured it.—

A visit to Gokoku Shrine—I couldn’t stop visiting, and lately it had been especially frequent.

My stomach empty beyond bearing, I went out; swallowing my shame, I borrowed a small amount for rice from Brother Ishun’s wife—the shame so intense it made me shudder; suppressing both sake and cigarettes, I bought as much rice and barley as I could afford. Today’s me was somewhat unhinged; I failed to receive a bit of change I was owed—being absentminded wasn’t always a bad thing.

So hot, so hot—because it was too hot, I didn’t go to Dogo.

Mr. Electrician, I’m sorry; Mr. Newspaper Vendor, I couldn’t properly apologize either—sighing as I wished for some pocket money.

After dark, I went to the tofu shop—there’s likely no dish simpler than yudofu; a flavor that transcends mere deliciousness or lack thereof.

Out walking; as I gazed at the sunset clouds, I grew somehow lonely and forlorn.……

July 30th. Cloudy—clear.

Calm down, calm down; they aren’t coming, aren’t coming—what I’m waiting for isn’t coming, but I must remain calm.

To Dogo—bathed and drowned myself in drink; shaving my beard left me refreshed.

Deep sleep, blissful sleep—happiness upon happiness.

"Every grain is a bodhisattva."

The tenacious vitality of withered rice in barren fields.

July 31st. Clear—cloudy.

I woke at five; the dawn was calm.

Finally, I pawned something and paid the interest.
……

The afternoon outing to Dogo became the root of my downfall; having drunk for the first time in a week, I got terribly intoxicated and unleashed my usual reckless abandon—losing my wallet, forgetting all shame and decorum, until I finally wound up needing help from the police box! Still, somehow or other, I did manage to return—but. —— Nothing but stupidity, stupidity, stupidity! Why am I so weak? So terribly weak—isn’t this weakness beyond measure?

Unaware of past or present, self and others forgotten… Ah!

August 1st. Clear.

Kōa Hōkōbi (Asia Prosperity Service Day), its first anniversary.

Drink sake—if you cannot help but drink, then do not be drunk by the sake; if you are to drink sake.
——

Gloom; I was tossed about by the anguish of self-reproach; all day long, I observed restraint in silence.

Silently, inside the mosquito net, I ate alone.

This suffering is known only to me; it is mine alone to resolve.

Alas, how sad! Ah, how lonely!

August 2nd. Cloudy.

My body and mind felt somewhat lighter.—
Mrs. B-tei came to the hermitage to collect payment; as if belatedly, I was made to reflect on this spring’s nightmare.
All day in silent meditation; received a small portion of rice mixed mostly with barley.

I will accept things as they are; I will entrust myself entirely to how they unfold.

Do not cling to matters; do not dwell on objects; do not flatter yourself; do not rely on others.

“I will liquidate my old lifestyle structure.

And

I will establish my new lifestyle structure.

Therefore,

I will revise my scrolls.
——”

(August 3rd Morning)

○ Ippen Shōnin (Great Master Shōjō)

[Dogo, Hōgonji Temple]

[Uchiko, Ganjōji Temple]

○ Jōhoku Teramachi

Cold moon—
the shadow of stone pagodas,
the shadow of pines Shiki

The yellow crane once departed never returns

(Li Bai)

White clouds for a thousand years drift idly on.