One Thousand Summers

The hazy early morning mist over Uji River fades to reveal fishing nets in the shallows. *

The hazy early morning light comes not from the moon but  from the crystal white snow of Yoshino.

I remember one interesting and affecting incident from that reign [of Emperor Murakami]. A plum tree in front of the Seiryōden had died, and His Majesty was looking for a replacement. He entrusted the matter to a certain gentleman who was serving as a Chamberlain at the time. “Young people can't recognize a good tree,” the Chamberlain said to me. “You find one for us.” After walking all over the capital without success, I located a beautiful specimen, covered with deep red blossoms, at a house in the western sector. As I was digging it up, the owner sent someone out with a message. “Attach this to it before you carry it away·“ I supposed there was some reason behind it, so I took the paper along. The Emperor saw it and said, “What's that?” It was a poem in a woman's hand:

No more can we hear the sounds of the waterfall, but its legacy continues to spread.

A mountain village grows lonesome every winter when people and grasses grow scarce.

Senior Grand Empress  Shōshi  is to enter religion, it seems, and to become an Imperial Lady with the same status as a Retired Emperor. People say that she will receive the commandments at an ordination platform erected at the Hōjōji, and that other nuns are eager to come and receive them with her. When my wife heard the news, she said,  “ That is when I will crop my white head. Don't try to stop me. ”