[Footnote 138: Because, according to the Buddhist doctrine of perpetually recurring births, it is at any given time more probable that the individual will come into the world in the shape of one of the lower animals.] [Footnote 139: A literal translation of the Japanese idiom.] [Footnote 140: The Japanese commentators are puzzled over the meaning of the passage "with skirt uplifted, drew near and fondled me." To the European mind there seems to be nothing obscure in it. The mother probably lifted her skirt to wipe her eyes, when she was crying. It is evidently a figurative way of saying that the mother was crying.] LOVE SONGS ON BEHOLDING THE MOUNTAIN _Composed by the commander of the forces of the Mikado Zhiyomei_ The long spring day is o'er, and dark despond My heart invades, and lets the tears flow down, As all alone I stand, when from beyond The mount our heav'n-sent monarch's throne doth crown. There breathes the twilight wind and turns my sleeve. Ah, gentle breeze! to turn, home to return, Is all my prayer; I cannot cease to grieve On this long toilsome road; I burn, I burn! Yes! the poor heart I used to think so brave Is all afire, though none the flame may see, Like to the salt-kilns there by Tsunu's wave, Where toil the fisher-maidens wearily. _Anon_. LOVE IS PAIN 'Twas said of old, and still the ages say, "The lover's path is full of doubt and woe." Of me they spake: I know not, nor can know, If she I sigh for will my love repay. My heart sinks on my breast; with bitter strife My heart is torn, and grief she cannot see. All unavailing is this agony To help the love that has become my life. _Anon_. HITOMARO TO HIS MISTRESS Tsunu's shore, Ihami's brine, To all other eyes but mine Seem, perchance, a lifeless mere, And sands that ne'er the sailor cheer. Ah, well-a-day! no ports we boast, And dead the sea that bathes our coast; But yet I trow the winged breeze Sweeping at morn across our seas, And the waves at eventide From the depths of ocean wide, Onward to Watadzu bear The deep-green seaweed, rich and fair; And like that seaweed gently swaying, Winged breeze and waves obeying, So thy heart hath swayed and bent And crowned my love with thy content. But, dear heart! I must away, As fades the dew when shines the day; Nor aught my backward looks avail, Myriad times cast down the vale, From each turn the winding road Takes upward; for thy dear abode Farther and still farther lies, And hills on hills between us rise. Ah! bend ye down, ye cruel peaks, That the gate my fancy seeks, Where sits my pensive love alone, To mine eyes again be shown! _Hitomaro._ NO TIDINGS