The Pillow Book

~ Frosted stiff by ice, my writing brush cannot begin to draw you a picture of my feelings.


~ Though it flows not, continue to write; your pain will float away like frost and ice on the water.


~ The plover cries to its mate on Omi Lake; so if that's how it is, nothing's stopping you from calling at many ports.


~ Blood-red tears are even more hateful - crimson, the quick-to-fade colour of inconstant love.


~ The waters of the valley stream, once frozen in the mountain peaks, from here on out will flow deep and strong.


~ Now that you are plucked, peach blossom, look your best; you needn't be jealous of the heartless cherry.


~ With the splendid name Momo, the peach ought not feel inferior to the quick-to-scatter cherry.


~ Neither the cherry, loveliest  of flowers, nor lowly pear has much scent; neither is there a difference in the way they fall.


~ How can anyone be so sure of the sourness of a plum that has never touched his lips?


~ I only have to brush my sleeve with the chrysanthemum dew to gain a youthful glow; now I return it to its owner to work a miracle.


~ A lonely duck awakes and, finding no friend to brush her wings, recalls with longing the nights they were a pair.


~ Nestled in the plumes of pampas grass, why does the dew not leave the withered plain?


~ She used to spin her web from time to time;  so why does the spider now break her thread?


~ The snow piles up like the count of years, and thus I pray: may you live as long as the Shirane mountain pines.




* The poems featured above were derived from Dalby, Liza (2001) The Tale of Murasaki London: Vintage *