The Tale of Genji . Murasaki Shikibu

few days. They talked fondly of this and that, and presently it was night. A full moon flooded the tranquil scene. There were tears in the emperor’s eyes.

      “We have not had music here of late,” he said, “and it has been a very long time since I last heard any of the old songs.”

      Genji replied:

      “Cast out upon the sea, I passed the years

      As useless as the leech child of the gods.”

      The emperor was touched and embarrassed.

      “The leech child’s parents met beyond the pillar.

      We meet again to forget the spring of parting.”

      He was a man of delicate grace and charm.

      Genji’s first task was to commission a grand reading of the Lotus Sutra in his father’s memory. He called on the crown prince, who had grown in his absence, and was touched that the boy should be so pleased to see him. He had done so well with his studies that there need be no misgivings about his competence to rule. It would seem that Genji also called on Fujitsubo, and managed to control himself sufficiently for a quiet and affectionate conversation.

      I had forgotten: he sent a note with the retinue which, like a returning wave, returned to Akashi. Very tender, it had been composed when no one was watching.

      “And how is it with you these nights when the waves roll in?

      “I wonder, do the morning mists yet rise,

      There at Akashi of the lonely nights?”

      The Kyushu Gosechi dancer had had fond thoughts of the exiled Genji, and she was vaguely disappointed to learn that he was back in the city and once more in the emperor’s good graces. She sent a note, with instructions that the messenger was to say nothing of its origin:

      “There once came tidings from a boat at Suma,

      From one who now might show you sodden sleeves.”

      Her hand had improved, though not enough to keep him from guessing whose it was.

      “It is I, not you, from whom the complaints should come.

      My sleeves have refused to dry since last you wrote.”

      He had not seen enough of her, and her letter brought fond memories. But he was not going to embark upon new adventures.

      To the lady of the orange blossoms he sent only a note, cause more for disappointment than for pleasure.

      Front Table of Contents ← Prev Next →