Sections 101–120101~120단

A certain man was serving as naiben (内辨) at the feast for appointing a minister (任大臣). He went up into the hall without taking the senmyo (宣命) that the naiki (内記) was holding.

It was a discourtesy beyond measure, but he could not turn back and take it, and he was at a loss. Then Yasutsuna, a geki of the sixth rank, coaxed a woman into carrying that senmyo, and had it presented to him quietly. It was finely done.

When the lay monk Mitsutada, the Major Counselor of In, was serving as presiding noble at the driving-out rite (追儺), he asked the Minister of the Right of Toin about the order of it. He said, "There will be no learning it except by taking the fellow Matagoro for your teacher."

That Matagoro was an old guard, well seasoned in public ceremony (公事).

When Konoe-dono took his seat at the jin (陣), he forgot his knee-mat and called for the geki. A man who was tending the fire muttered quietly, "Should you not first call for the knee-mat?" It was very amusing.

At Daikakuji-dono the close attendants were making riddles and solving them, and the physician Tadamori came in.

The Major Counselor Kin'aki of Jiju set this riddle: "Here is a Tadamori who does not look like a man of our court." They solved it as "a Tang bottle (唐瓶子)" and laughed together, so he grew angry and withdrew.

A neglected house, with no one about. The woman was in a time when she had to keep apart, and she was shut in with nothing to do. A certain man wished to call on her, and in the faint light of an early evening moon he sought her out in secret.

A dog barked at him noisily, and a serving woman came out and said, "Where have you come from?" He was shown in at once and went inside.

Her circumstances looked lonely, and it pained him to wonder how she got through her days. He stood a while on a shabby wooden floor. Then a young voice, quiet and composed, said, "This way," and he went in through a sliding door that was stiff to open.

Inside it was not so bleak, but quietly pleasing. The lamp was dim on the far side, yet fine things of the household could be seen, and a scent that had not been lit just then lay very warmly through the place.

"Bar the gate well. It may rain. The carriage under the gate, the attendants here and there." At this someone whispered, "Tonight we shall sleep easy." They kept their voices low, but the house was small and it could be faintly heard.

Then, as he told her closely of all that had passed, the cock crowed in the deep of the night. They talked in earnest of what was gone and of what was to come, and this time the cock crowed bright and thick, so he listened, thinking day might be breaking. But this was not a place he had to hurry from before dawn, and he lingered a little. Then the gap in the door grew white.

He said the things that are hard to forget and went out. The treetops and the garden had turned fresh and green all over. He recalled how lovely and how pleasing that daybreak in the fourth month had been, and they say that even now he follows it with his eyes until the great katsura tree hides it.

In the shade of a house on the north side, snow that had not melted lay hard frozen, and the shafts of a carriage drawn up close glittered thick with frost. The dawn moon was clear, but it did not reach into every corner. In the gallery of a hall where no one came, a man who looked far from common sat on the threshold beam with a woman and talked. Whatever it was about, it seemed it would never come to an end.

His hair and his face looked very fine, and a scent beyond describing came wafting across, which was pleasing. The sound of them, caught in snatches, made one wish to hear more.

As Shoku Shonin of Koya was going up to the capital, he met a woman on horseback on a narrow road. The man leading her horse pulled it badly and knocked the holy man's horse into a ditch.

The holy man was very angry and rebuked him. "This is an outrage seldom seen. Hear me on the disciples of the four groups. Lower than a monk is a nun, lower than a nun is a layman, lower than a layman is a laywoman. That one in the body of such a laywoman should have a monk kicked into a ditch is a wickedness never known before."

The man leading the horse said, "I cannot make out what you are saying." The holy man grew hotter still and said roughly, "What is that? A fellow who neither practices nor studies." Then, with the look of one who knows he has spoken beyond all bounds, he turned his horse and fled.

It must have been a blessed quarrel.

A man who answers well and at once when a woman speaks to him is a rare thing. So in the time of Kameyama-in the mischievous ladies of the court tested the young men each time they came, asking, "Have you heard the cuckoo?"

Some Major Counselor or other answered, "A man of no account such as I have not heard it." The Inner Minister of Horikawa said, "I think I heard it at Iwakura."

They gave their judgment together: "This one has no fault in it. Saying 'a man of no account' is awkward."

In general a man should be brought up so as not to be laughed at by women. They say it was said that the former kanpaku of Jodoji spoke so well because Ankimon'in taught him well when he was a child.

The Minister of the Left of Yamashina said, "Even a plain serving woman looking at me shames me, and I take care how I hold myself."

In a world without women there would be no one to set a collar straight or a cap right, however they sat. When one thinks how great a thing a woman must be, that people are shy before her in this way, still the nature of women is crooked through and through. Their sense of self against others is deep, their greed is heavy, and they do not know the reason of things. Their minds turn quickly to delusion, their words are clever, and when they are asked about a thing that would cost them nothing, they will not say it. Then, when they seem careful, they will tell out even shameful things that no one asked. When they scheme and dress a matter up, one thinks they are beyond a man's wit, but they do not know that it comes out afterward. It is women who are not plain and who are clumsy.

To follow such a mind and try to be well thought of is a sorry thing. So what is there in a woman to be shy before? And if there were a wise woman, she too would be distant and dull.

It is only when a man takes delusion for his master and follows it that a woman seems graceful and seems pleasing.

No one begrudges a moment. Is this because they know well, or because they are foolish?

Let me speak for the foolish and idle. A single coin is light, yet piled up it makes a poor man rich. So a merchant's care for a single coin is urgent.

An instant is not felt, but if it goes on passing without stop, the hour when life ends comes all at once.

Therefore a man of the Way should not begrudge the months and years that are far off. He should begrudge the one thought of this moment passing in vain.

If someone came and told you that your life would surely be taken tomorrow, what would you trust in, and what would you set about, until today grew dark? How is this day we are living different from that day?

In a single day we lose much time, and cannot help it, in eating and drinking, in relieving ourselves, in sleeping, in speaking, in walking. In the little leisure that is left we do useless things, say useless things, think useless thoughts, and so pass the time. Not only that. We use up the days and cross over the months and send a whole life away. This is the greatest folly.

Xie Lingyun was the scribe (筆受) for the Lotus Sutra, yet his mind was always drawing pictures of wind and cloud, and so Huiyuan would not allow him the fellowship of the White Lotus.

When this mind is absent even for a while, a man is the same as a dead man. If you ask what the days and months are begrudged for, it is this: that with no cares within and no worldly business without, he who would stop may stop and he who would practice may practice.

A man they called a famous tree climber set another man to go up a high tree and cut the top branches. While it looked most dangerous he said nothing. When the man was coming down and had reached about the height of an eaves, he called out, "Do not make a mistake. Come down with care."

I asked him, "At that height he could jump down and be down. Why do you speak so?" He said, "That is just it. While his eyes swim and the branches are dangerous, he is afraid himself, so I say nothing. A mistake is always made after he has come to an easy place."

He was a lowly man of no standing, but this agrees with the warnings of the sages.

In kickball too, they say, a man who has kicked the ball clear of a hard place and then thinks it easy will surely drop it.

I asked a man they called a master of sugoroku about his art. He said, "Do not play to win. Play not to lose. Consider which move would lose soonest, and do not use that move. Take the move that loses later, even by one point."

This is the teaching of one who knows his Way. The way of governing oneself and of keeping a country is the same.

A certain holy man said, "One who loves go and sugoroku and passes his days and nights at them commits a wickedness worse than the four grave offenses (四重罪) and the five deadly sins (五逆罪)." That stayed in my ears, and I think it excellent.

Would anyone lay a task that needs a quiet mind on a man who has heard that tomorrow he must set out for a far province?

A man who has a sudden great matter to see to, or who has some bitter grief, takes in nothing else, and he does not ask after the sorrows or the joys of others. And no one resents him for not asking.

So it should be with a man whose years are gradually mounting and who is bound by illness, and still more with one who has left the world.

Among the observances between people, which of them is easy to be rid of? If a man follows what the world makes it hard to keep silent about, and holds that he must do these things, his wants grow many, his body suffers, his mind has no leisure, and a whole life is blocked by small business and goes dark in vain.

The day is late and the road is long. My life has already gone astray. It is time to let go of all ties. I will not keep faith, and I will not think of courtesy.

Let anyone who does not hold this mind call me mad. Let him think me senseless and unfeeling. Blame me and I will not be troubled. Praise me and I will not listen.

If a man past forty keeps his taste for love to himself and hides it, there is nothing to be done about that. But to bring it out in words, and to joke about matters between men and women and about other people, is unbecoming and unsightly.

In general these are the things hard to hear and unsightly. An old man sitting among young people and talking on to seem good company. A man of no account speaking of a person of standing in the world as though there were nothing between them. A poor household that loves drinking parties and makes a great show of entertaining guests.

As the great lord of Imadegawa was going to Saga, at a place where water ran near Arisugawa, Saiomaru drove the ox on, and the water thrown up by its hooves splashed over the front board.

Tamenori, who was behind the carriage, said, "What a strange boy. Is this a place to drive the ox on?" At this the great lord was displeased and said, "You cannot know more about driving a carriage than Saiomaru. You are a strange fellow." And he knocked Tamenori's head against the carriage.

This famous Saiomaru was a servant of Uzumasa-dono, an ox driver in the lord's service.

The names given to the ladies who served this Uzumasa-dono were these. One was Hizasachi, one was Kotetsuchi, one was Ebara, one was Otoushi.

At a place called Shukugawara many boroboro had gathered and were saying the nine-grade nenbutsu. A boroboro who came in from outside asked, "Is there among you a boroboro called Irooshi-bo?"

From among them a voice answered, "Irooshi is here. Who is it that speaks so?" "I am one called Shirabonji. I heard that my master, a man called so-and-so, was killed in the eastern provinces by a boroboro called Irooshi. I have come seeking him, meaning to meet him and lay my grievance before him."

Irooshi said, "Bravely have you come seeking. There was such a thing. If we face each other here we shall defile the hall. Let us go out to the riverbed in front and meet there. I beg you, all of you at our sides, do not take either part. If it becomes a trouble among many, it will hinder the service." So it was settled.

The two went out to the riverbed, faced each other, ran each other through to their hearts' content, and died together.

Perhaps there were no such things as boroboro in old times. They say that those called bonronji (梵論字), bonji (梵字) and kanji (漢字) in recent times were the beginning of them.

They seem to have left the world, yet their attachment to self is deep. They seem to seek the Buddha's Way, yet they make their business of fighting. Theirs is a loose and shameless way of living. Still, there is something clean in how lightly they hold death and how little they cling to it, and so I set it down as it was told to me.

In naming temples, and in naming all the other things besides, people of old did not search at all. They gave names plainly, just as things were.

These days it sounds as though much thought had gone in and a wish to show off cleverness. It is very tiresome.

To use unfamiliar characters in a person's name is a useless thing.

They say that in anything, to seek what is new and to like odd theories is what a man of shallow talent always does.

There are seven kinds who are bad to have as friends. First, one who is high and noble. Second, a young person. Third, one who has no illness and a strong body. Fourth, one who loves drink. Fifth, one who is fierce and brave. Sixth, one who lies. Seventh, one who is deep in greed.

There are three good friends. First, a friend who gives things. Second, a physician. Third, a friend who has wisdom.

They say that on a day when you have eaten carp soup, the hair at your temples does not come loose. Carp is made into glue as well, so it must be a sticky thing.

Carp alone is cut up even in the emperor's presence, so it is a noble fish. Among birds there is nothing to set beside the pheasant. Pheasant and pine mushrooms may hang above the bathing chamber (御湯殿) without offense. Anything else is a sorry matter.

Kitayama Nyudo-dono saw a wild goose on the black shelf above the bathing chamber in the empress's quarters. After he had gone home he sent a letter at once, saying, "To set such a thing on the shelf in its own shape is not what I have been used to see. It is unseemly. It must be that no capable person is in service there."

The fish called bonito in the sea at Kamakura is a thing without equal in that province, and these days it is made much of.

Yet an old man of Kamakura said, "Down to the time when we were young, this fish never came before a person of standing. The head was not eaten even by the servants, and we cut it off and threw it away."

Such things too, when the world comes to its latter days, make their way even to those above.

Of goods from Tang, nothing but medicine need be wanted. Books have spread widely in this country, so they can be copied out.

For the ships from Tang to load nothing but useless things on a hard sea road, and to bring them over taking up all that room, is very foolish.

They say it is in the books as well: "Do not treasure what comes from afar," and "Do not prize goods that are hard to get."