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Thus it results that Japanese poems are, for the most part, impressionist; they suggest a great deal more than they actually express. Here is an example: Momiji-ha wo Kaze ni makasete Miru yori mo Hakanaki mono wa Inochi nari keri This may be translated: More fleeting than the glint of withered leaf wind-blown, the thing called life."* *See Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th Edition, article "Japan."
Wasuraruru Mi naran to omo Kokoro koso Wasure nu yori mo Omoi nari-kere. "To wish to be forgotten by the beloved is a soul-task harder far than trying not to forget." Poem by Kimiko. The name is on a paper-lantern at the entrance of a house in the Street of the Geisha. Seen at night the street is one of the queerest in the world.
On the 2d day of the 12th month, Sôgorô, having received a summons from the residence of the Gorôjiu Kuzé Yamato no Kami, proceeded to obey it, and was ushered to the porch of the house, where two councillors, named Aijima Gidaiyu and Yamaji Yôri, met him, and said "Some days since you had the audacity to thrust a memorial into the litter of our lord Yamato no Kami.
If I kill myself I throw myself into the river like a common geisha. I think it is best you marry Ito. In Japan it is bad to have a husband; but to have no husband, it is worse." Kuraki yori Kuraki michi ni zo Iri-nu-beki: Haruka ni terase Yuma no ha no tsuki! Some days before Christmas Asako had moved into her own little home.
Caged, the little creature will remain silent and die. Poets often wait vainly in the dew, from sunset till dawn, to hear the strange cry which has inspired so many exquisite verses. But those who have heard found it so mournful that they have likened it to the cry of one wounded suddenly to death. Hototogisu Chi ni naku koe wa Ariake no Tsuki yori kokani Kiku hito mo nashi.
They seem brothers, so like in frame, in movement, in the timbre of their voices, as they intone the same song: No demo yama demo ko wa umiokeyo, Sen ryo kura yori ko ga takara. 'Whether brought forth upon the mountain or in the field, it matters nothing: more than a treasure of one thousand ryo, a baby precious is. And Jizo the lover of children's ghosts, smiles across the silence.
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