Sages in ancient times said that beauty is a sword that cuts life. The flowers of the heart showered, and by the evening only dry branches remain. It is foolish to die an early death in the abyss of love, but, truly, such madmen will never translate!

Once two young men argued by the river about what they most wanted in life, one said that most of all he wanted the moisture of his love to never dry out, but flow like a full-flowing river. Another objected that he would like to retire to a place where there would be no women at all, and in peace and quiet he watched the worries of life. They decided to ask some of the old women who lived, which of them was right, and found a solitary living hermit high up in the mountains in a clean hut with a roof made of reed stalks. The old woman was surprised at their request and decided to tell them all her life as a warning.

I’m not from a low clan, the old woman began to tell, my ancestors were in the service of the emperor Go-Hanazono, but then our clan fell into decay and went completely dead, but I was friendly and beautiful, and got into the service of a noble lady, close to the court . I served with her for several years and lived freely without great hassles in the midst of exquisite luxury. I myself came up with an invisible cord to pull off her hair, an intricate pattern for a dress, a new hairstyle. And all the time I heard about love, everyone talked about it in different ways. I began to receive love messages, but put them on fire, only the names of the gods, written in letters in confirmation of love vows, did not burn. I had many notable admirers, and the first time I gave my heart to a samurai of the lowest rank, the power of his feelings in the first letter struck me. There was no power to confront the passion, we swore to each other, and did not break our connection. But the matter came out, and I was severely punished, and my dear was executed. And I wanted to lose my life, the silent ghost of my beloved pursued me, but time passed and everything was forgotten, because I was only thirteen years old, people looked through my fingers through my sin. From a modest bud of love, I turned into a bright Yamabushi flower on the edge of a rapids. There were a lot of dancers, singers, and actors in the capital - and all of them received no more than one silver coin at dances and revels. I liked the young girls very much, entertaining the guests with songs and conversations - maiko. I learned dancing, fashionable at that time, and became a real dancer, even occasionally appearing at feasts, but always with a strict mummy, so I did not at all look like fluffy maikos. Once I liked one rich, but ugly lady, who was being treated in our area for some kind of illness there, and this lady's husband had a beautiful painted man. Once in their house, where they took me to entertain a bored lady, I quickly made friends with her handsome husband and fell in love with him, and then I could not part with him. But the matter again came out, and I was kicked out in disgrace, sent to my native village.

One prince from the Eastern provinces didn’t have any heirs, he was very sad about this and everywhere he looked for young concubines, but he couldn’t find it to his liking: either he looked at a rustic, then there was no pleasant treatment, as is customary in the capital, or can add verses and guess the right flavor. The prince was an old man, deaf, blind, almost completely lost his teeth, and wore men's clothes only out of habit - the path of love was closed to him. But he used the power of attorney of the vassal, and sent him to the capital for a beautiful concubine. He was looking for a girl without the slightest flaw, similar to an old portrait that the old man always carried with him. The old man examined more than one hundred and seventy girls, but not one came to his taste.But when they finally brought me to him from a distant village, it turned out that I was exactly like a portrait, and some said that I eclipsed the beauty in the portrait. They settled me in the magnificent palace of the prince, day and night cherished and cherished, entertained and spoiled. I admired the blossoming cherries of extraordinary beauty, whole performances were played for me. But I lived as a recluse, and the prince was still sitting on the council of state. To my grief, it turned out that he was deprived of male power, he drinks pills of love, but still he never penetrated the fence. His vassals decided that all the trouble was in me, in my indefatigable voluptuousness, and persuaded the prince to send me back to my native village. There is nothing sadder in the world than a beloved, devoid of male power.

And then misfortune befell me, my father owed and went bankrupt, I had to become a heterosexual at only sixteen years old. And immediately I became a trendsetter, eclipsed my local foppies with my inventions regarding fashion. It seemed to me that everyone was burning with passion for me, I built my eyes, and if there was nobody nearby, I flirted at worst, even with a simple jester. I knew different ways how to make submissive slaves out of men, and those that goeters never thought of more stupidly. And unreasonable men always thought that I crushed them head over heels and untied wallets. Sometimes I hear that there is a rich man somewhere, that he’s both good and cheerful, and doesn’t spare money, I’m going to him with all my legs, and I’ll not let go, but this rarely happens. But a venal geter cannot love only anyone he wants, and there are always enough dandies in yellow striped dresses and straw sandals on bare feet in the capital. But I, forced to surrender to men for money, still did not give myself to them to the end, therefore I came to be known as a hard-hearted, obstinate, and in the end the guests all left me. It is good to turn away from annoying men when you are in fashion, but when everyone leaves you, you will be glad to anyone - both the servant and the freak. The life of getters is sad!

They lowered me in rank, servants stopped calling me mrs and bending my back in front of me. It used to be that they sent me to rich houses in twenty days before, I managed to go round three or four houses a day in a quick carriage. And now, accompanied only by a small maid, one quietly made her way in the crowd. What it was like to me, a spoiled, and still of a high descent, young lady when they treated me like the daughter of a garbage man. Whatever people I met in cheerful houses, I walked and drank that the last was lowered, and remained penniless, and even got into debt. Many of my guests went bankrupt on songworms and actresses, and after all, middle-aged, respectable people were! I started to hurt, my hair thinned, and besides, pimples with a millet seed jumped behind my ears, the guests did not want to look at me. The landlady did not speak with me, the servants began to push me around, and I sat at the table from the very edge. And no one will think to have fun, nobody cares! The louts were disgusting to me, the good guests did not invite me, sadness took hold of my soul. They sold me to the cheapest fun house, where I became the last slut. How low I lowered, and what I just didn’t see! Thirteen years later, I got into a boat and, since I had no other refuge, I went to my native village. I changed into a man’s dress, cut my hair, made a man’s hairstyle, hung a dagger from one side, and learned to speak in a man’s voice. At that time, village bonzes often took boys to their service, and with one such I agreed that I would love him for three years for three cans of silver. This bonza was completely mired in debauchery, and his friends were no better, they violated all the covenants of the Buddha, wore priests' clothes during the day, and put on dresses of secular fashionistas at night. They kept their lovers in their cells, and secretly locked them in the dungeons during the day. I was bored with imprisonment, I was completely emaciated, and I’m tired of bonza, because I didn’t do this thing for love, but for money — it was hard for me.Yes, an old woman came to me and called herself the old lover of the abbot, told about her unfortunate fate and cruelty of the bonza, threatened to take revenge on her new mistress. I began to think and guess how to get away from the bonza, and decided to deceive him, put a thick layer of cotton wool under my clothes and declared myself pregnant. I was scared of the bonza and sent me home, having allocated a small fraction of the money.

In the capital, women who were once rulers in noble houses and learned subtle ways who knew how to write courteous and elegant letters on various topics were very much appreciated. Parents gave them their daughters to teach. And so I decided to open a school of writing, too, to teach young girls to gracefully express their thoughts. I healed comfortably in my own house, in the living rooms I had everything cleanly cleaned, along the walls there were beautiful copybooks with sample letters. Soon dexterous young men, handsome men, and leggings burnt with passion became aware of me - fame went about me as an unsurpassed writer of love letters, because in merry houses I plunged into the very depths of love and could portray the most ardent passion. I was there, in the "village of love", a gentleman, only I really loved him, when he became impoverished, I could not come to me anymore, I only sent letters, and such that I sobbed over them all night, pressing to the bare chest. Until now, the words from his letters are burnt in my memory as if by fire. Once a customer came to me and asked me to write a heartless beauty about my love, and I tried, but, outputting the words of passion on paper, I was suddenly imbued with them and realized that this man was dear to me. And he looked at me more closely and saw that my hair curled, my mouth was small, and my big toes were bent outward. He forgot his heartless beauty and cleaved his soul to me. But it turned out that he was a terrible meanie! He treated me to the cheapest fish soup, and was stingy with a new dress. And besides, he became decrepit for a year, lost his hearing, so he had to put his hand to his ear, he was all wrapped up in cotton dresses, but I forgot to think about nice ladies.

In the old days they valued very young maidservants, and now they love that the maidservant looks more solid, about twenty-five years old, and could accompany a stretcher with a lady. And although it was very unpleasant for me, I dressed up in a modest dress of a maid, tied my hair with a simple cord and began to ask the housekeeper naive questions: “What will be born of snow?” etc. They considered me very simple and naive, who had never seen anything in life. From everything I blushed and shuddered, and the servants for my inexperience called me "stupid monkey", in a word, I came across as a perfect simpleton. At night the master and mistress indulged in amorous frenzy, and how my heart went from passion and desire. One day, early in the morning, I was cleaning up the Buddha’s altar when the owner came there to make the first prayer, and I, when I saw a strong young man, tore off my belt. The owner was amazed, but then in a frantic impulse rushed to me and knocked down a statue of Buddha, dropped the candlestick. Slowly and easily I took my master's hands and conceived the evil deed - to lime the mistress, and for that I resorted to unlawful methods: spells and demonic spells. But she couldn’t harm the hostess, everything quickly came out, a bad rumor went about me and the owner, and soon they kicked me out of the house. I began to wander like crazy, under the scorching sun on the streets and bridges, screaming the air with crazy cries: “I want man's love!” and danced like a fit. People on the streets condemned me. A cold breeze blew, and in the grove of cryptomeria I suddenly woke up and realized that I was naked, my old mind returned to me. I called for misfortune on another, but I myself suffered.

I got a job as a maid on the premises in the country house of a noble lady, who was severely suffering from jealousy - her husband, handsome, was shamelessly cheating on her.And that lady decided to have a party and invite all her court ladies and maids and that everyone would tell them what they had in mind, and that they would blacken women out of envy and men out of jealousy. This fun seemed strange to someone. They brought a marvelous beauty to a doll dressed in a magnificent outfit and all women took turns pouring their souls in front of her and telling stories about unfaithful husbands and lovers. I guessed one thing. The mistress’s husband found a beauty in the province and gave her his heart, and the mistress ordered to make a doll - an exact copy of that beauty, beat her, tormented, as if the rival herself fell into her hands. Yes, only once the doll opened her eyes and, spreading her hands, went to the mistress and grabbed her by the hem. She had scarcely been saved, and since that time she had become ill, and began to languish. They decided that it’s all a matter of the doll, and decided to burn it. They burnt and burnt the ashes, but only every night from the garden, from the grave of the doll, moans and crying began to be heard. The prince himself found out about it. The maids were called for interrogation, I had to tell everything. And the concubine girl was called to the prince, and then I saw her - she was unusually good, and how graceful. With a doll - do not compare. The prince was frightened for the life of a fragile girl and with the words: “How disgusting women are!” sent the girl to her home away from the jealous wife. But he himself stopped visiting the lady’s chambers, and during her life the widow’s fate fell. But everything disgusted me so much that I took leave in Kanagata with the intention of becoming a nun.

In the New Harbor there are ships from distant lands and from the western provinces of Japan, and nuns from neighboring villages sell their love to sailors and merchant people from those ships. Rowing boats scurry back and forth, well done oars, some old-fashioned gray-haired man at the wheel, and in the middle dressed up female nuns. The nuns click the castanets, the young nuns with begging bowls beg for a trifle, and then, without any embarrassment in front of people, they go over to the ships, and there they are waiting for visiting guests. Nuns receive coins of one hundred mon, or an armful of brushwood, or a bunch of mackerel. Of course, the water in the gutter is dirty everywhere, but the slut nuns are a particularly low craft. I conspired with an old nun that was at the head of this business. I still had traces of former beauty, and I was eagerly invited to the ships, paid, however, a little - only three momme per night, but still three of my fans went broke completely and went along the roads. I, not caring about what became of them, continued to sing my songs. And you, windy revelers, have enlightened how dangerous it is to get involved with song-mongers, and even with nuns?

I did not endure such a life for a long time and took up another craft: I began to comb the fashionistas and come up with outfits for the goldfinches. One must have a delicate taste and understand the transience of fashion in order to do such things. At the new service in the dressing rooms of famous beauties, I received eighty momme silver a year, and even a bunch of elegant dresses. I entered the service of the rich lady, she was very beautiful with herself, even I, a woman, was subjugated. But there was inescapable grief in her soul, even in childhood she lost her hair from illness and walked on the patch. The owner did not suspect her, although it was difficult to keep everything secret. I did not step back from the lady, and with all sorts of tricks I managed to hide her lack from my husband, otherwise the cover would fall from my head - and goodbye love forever! Everything would be fine, but the lady envied my hair - thick, black as a raven’s wing, and ordered me to cut them first, and when they grew back, pull them out so that my forehead would become bald. I was indignant at the cruelty of the lady, and she was still more angry, did not let her out of the house. And I set out to take revenge: I taught the cat to jump on my hair, and once, when the gentleman in our company enjoyed playing the zither, I let the cat down on the lady.The cat jumped onto her head, the studs fell down, the plate flew off - and the gentleman’s love, which had been burning in his heart for five years, died away in an instant! The gentleman completely lost interest in her, the mistress sank into sadness and left for her homeland, but I took my master's hands. It was not at all difficult to do.

But this service soon bored me, and I began to help at weddings in the city of Osaka, where people live frivolous, they arrange weddings too luxuriant, not worrying about whether they make ends meet. They want to surprise the whole world with a wedding, and then immediately begin to build a house, a young housewife sews herself outfits without a number. And also the receptions of guests after the wedding, and gifts to relatives, so that money will be torn without restraint. And there, look, there was the cry of the first granddaughter: ooh, ooh! So, drag a newborn dagger and new dresses. Relatives, acquaintances, healers - gifts, look! - and the wallet is empty. I served at many weddings, and so I looked at the human swagger. Only one wedding was modest, but this house is still rich and glorious, and where others are - bye! go broke and not hear about them anymore.

I don’t know where myself, I learned to sew dresses well according to all the ancient decrees known since the time of Empress Coquen. Glad I was to change my lifestyle, part with the craft of love. I spent the whole day with women, admiring the irises over the pond, enjoying the sunlight by the window, drinking fragrant reddish tea. Nothing bothered my heart. But once a young man’s dress fell into my hands, his satin lining was skillfully painted with love scenes, so passionate that it was breathtaking. And my old lusts awoke in me. I put aside the needle and the thimble, threw away the matter and spent all day in dreams, at night my bed seemed to me very lonely. My hardened heart emanated from sadness. The past seemed terrible to me, I thought of virtuous women that they knew only one husband, and after his death they took monastic tonsure. But former voluptuousness had already awakened in me, and even here the Chelady went out to serve the samurai and began to urinate, a strong stream washed the hole in the ground. And in that hole all my thoughts about virtue spun and drowned. I left the rich house, speaking ill, took off a small house and wrote “Seamstress” on the doors. I got into debt, and when the clerk of the silk merchant came to collect my favor, I undressed naked and gave him my dress as if I had nothing else. But the clerk was distraught by my beauty and, having hung an umbrella on the windows, put me in a hug, and he did without the help of the matchmakers. He abandoned his thoughts on profit, set off in all serious ways, so that he went very badly at work. And the seamstress walks and walks everywhere with her drawer with needles and threads, walks for a long time and collects coins, but she will never sew a single thing. But there is no nodule on that thread, it will not last long.

And my old age was already close, and I sank lower and lower. For a whole year I worked as a dishwasher, wore rude dresses, ate only black brown rice. Only twice a year they let me go to town, and once an old servant got in touch with me and on the way confessed to me his love, which he had long cherished in the depths of his heart. We went with him to a meeting house, but, alas, the old sword became a simple kitchen knife, visited a mountain of treasures, but returned ingloriously. I had to run to the fun house in Shimabara and urgently look for some kind of young man, and the younger, the better.

I went to many cities and towns and somehow wandered into the town of Sakai, there I needed a maid to lay and clean the beds in a noble, rich house. I thought that the owner of the house was a strong old man and, maybe, he would be able to tidy him up, look! - and this is a strong and oriental old woman, and the work in her house was in full swing. Yes, and even at night the old woman had to be appeased: either rub your lower back, or drive away mosquitoes, or how he starts to amuse himself with me, like a man with a woman.I’ve got it! There were no masters in my life, I didn’t get into any alterations.

The craft of a slutter disgusted me, but there was nothing to do, I learned the tricks of singers from tea houses and again went to sell myself. A variety of guests came to me: bonzes, clerks, actors, traders. And a good guest and a bad woman buy a little song for a short fun, until the ferry approaches the shore, and then - sorry, goodbye. With the amiable guest, I conversed for long conversations, hoped for a lasting alliance, and with the nasty guest I counted the boards on the ceiling, thought blankly about extraneous things. Sometimes a dignitary of the highest rank, with a sleek white body, complained to me, then I found out that he was a minister. Why, tea houses are different: where they feed only jellyfish and shells, and where they serve sumptuous dishes and are treated accordingly. In houses of low cost, you have to deal with a rough-faced redneck, who soaks the comb with water from a flower vase, throws the shell of nuts on a tobacco tray, and they flirt with women rudely, with salty jokes. You mumble a song, swallowing words, and there you only wait for a few silver coins. What a miserable lesson to torment yourself for mere pennies! In addition, I went dark with wine, the last vestiges of my beauty disappeared, I whitened, flushed, and still the skin became like a plucked bird. I lost my last hope that some worthy person will be captivated by me and will be taken to me forever. But I was lucky: I liked one rich man from Kyoto and he took me to his house as a concubine. Apparently, he was not very versed in the beauty of women and was flattered by me just as he bought indiscriminately dishes and paintings, antique fakes.

The attendants are the lowest category of sluts, they are strong, strong women, their hands are rich, in the evenings they put white, blush, antimony and invoke passers-by. Oh, passers-by are glad, although they are far from the famous geters, for a good guest they are the same as a delicate aroma for a dog. And the simpletons-banschiki are pleased to please, massage their lower back, fan themselves with cheap fans with crudely painted pictures. The attendants are lounging, if only it would be convenient. But at guests they hold delicately, they bring a cup to the side, they don’t rush for a snack, so they will go down to beauties on occasion, if there are no others nearby. They sleep on skinny mattresses, three in one under one blanket, and they talk about the construction of the canal, about their native village, and there is all sorts of talk about different actors. I also fell so low that I became a bath attendant. Alas! One Chinese poet said that love between a man and a woman boils down to hugging each other's ugly bodies.

I got sick with a bad disease, drank the infusion of the sankiray plant and suffered terribly during the summer, when it rains. The poison rose higher and his eyes began to fester. At the thought of the misfortune that befell me, worse than which it was impossible to imagine anything, tears came to my eyes, I wandered along the street straight-haired, around my neck - a rough collar, unbleached. And on one street, one big eccentric kept a fan shop. All his life he spent in cheerful debauchery, his wife and children did not get. Seeing me by chance, ignited me with an unexpected passion and wanted to take me to him, but I had nothing, neither a basket with a dress, nor even a casket for combs. Unbelievable happiness fell to me! I sat in a bench among the handmaids folding paper for fans, and they called me mistress. I lived in the hall, dressed up and again began to attract the eyes of men. Our shop became fashionable, people came to look at me and bought our fans. I came up with a new cutter for fans: the beautiful bodies of naked women were visible on them. Things were going fine, but my husband became jealous of my customers, quarrels began, and finally I was kicked out of the house again. I had to languish idle, then I settled down in a cheap hotel for servants, and then I entered as a maid to one hunks.He walked slowly, in small steps, wrapped his neck and head in a warm cotton scarf. I can stand it somehow, I thought. But it turned out that a man so frail in appearance turned out to be a hero in matters of love. He played with me twenty days in a row without a break. I became skinny, blue-pale and finally asked for a calculation. And hurry away, as long as she’s alive.

There are many wholesale shops in Osaka, because this city is the country's first trading port. To entertain the guests, they keep young girls with unpretentious appearance of cooks in the shops. They are dressed up, combed, but even by a walk you can see who they are, because they walk, wobbling backwards, and because they sway so much, they called them “lotus leaves”. In low-level dating houses, these girls receive a myriad of guests, they are all greedy and even strive to take something away from a simple apprentice. "Lotus leaves" amuse themselves with men just for the sake of profit and, only a guest beyond the threshold, pounce on cheap goodies, and then hire a stretcher and go to the theater to watch fashionable play. There they, having forgotten everything, fall in love with the actors, who, taking on someone else's guise, spend their lives in a dream. These are these "lotus leaves"! And everywhere in the city, and in the east and in the west, it is not even difficult to count how many there are “lotus leaves” in cheerful houses, in shops, in the streets. When these women grow old and get sick, where they disappear - no one can say. They die where it is unknown. When they drove me out of the fan shop, I also involuntarily entered this path. I was negligently doing business in the owner’s shop, and then I noticed one rich country guest, and once, when he was drunk, I took out paper from a drawer, rubbed the ink and persuaded him to write a vow that he would not leave me all his life. When the guest overslept, I managed to confuse and intimidate the poor hillbilly so that he could neither utter a whimper nor a grunt. I insisted that I would soon give birth to his son, that he should take me home, the guest in fear filled me with two cans of silver, and only that paid off.

During the festival of the autumnal equinox, people climb mountains to enjoy sea waves from there, the bell beeps, prayers are heard everywhere, and at that time unpretentious women crawl out of poor shacks, they also want to stare at people. What unsightly creatures! True, the "women of darkness" at noon seem like ghosts. Although they whiten their faces, raise their eyebrows with mascara, and smear their hair with fragrant oil, they seem even more miserable. Although trembling made my way at the mere mention of these women, “women of darkness”, but when I again lost my shelter, I had to, to my shame, turn into such a one. It is amazing how it is in Osaka, where it is full of beauties, men who gladly go to the "women of darkness" in secret dating houses, wretched to the last extreme. But the owners of such houses live quite well, feed a family of six to seven people, and for the guests prepared good glasses for wine. When the guest arrives, the owner with the child in his arms leaves for the neighbors to play the little snow in the small house, the hostess in the extension sits down to cut the dress, and the maid is sent to the shop. Finally, there is the “woman of darkness”: the crappy screens pasted over with the old calendar are arranged, on the floor there is a striped mattress and two wooden headboards. The woman has an embroidered belt with a pattern in the form of peonies, first she ties it in front, as is customary with a straight leg, and then, hearing from the mistress that today she is a modest daughter of a samurai, she urgently ties the belt back. She has sleeves with cuts, as if she were young, and most certainly twenty-five years old. And she doesn’t shine with her upbringing, she begins to tell the guest how quite today she roared from the heat. Laughter and more! A conversation with them without any subtleties: "Everything disgusted me, my stomach failed!"

But even below, an abandoned woman who has lost her beauty can go down, all the gods and Buddhas have left me, and I have fallen so low that I have become a servant in a village inn.They began to call me just a girl, I wore only cast-offs, it became more and more difficult to live, although my manners and walkings still surprised the provincials. But wrinkles have already appeared on my cheeks, and people more than anything else love youth. Even in the most deserted village people understand a lot about love affairs, so I had to leave this inn too, because the guests did not want to invite me. I became a barker in a poor hotel in Matsushaka, and as evening came, I would appear as a whitewashed, like the goddess Amateras from the grotto, on the doorstep of the hotel and would invite passersby to spend the night. The owners keep such women to lure guests, and they are happy, they turn on the fire, get supplies, wine, and the maid just needs it, because the owner does not pay her money, she lives here for food, but what the guest will give. In such inns, even the old maids do not want to lag behind others and offer themselves to the servants of the travelers, for which they were called “futase” - “double stream in one channel.” But here I didn’t get along, even the evening dusk could no longer hide my wrinkles, withered shoulders and chest, what can I say - my senile disgrace. I went to the port where the ships came, and began to trade there blush and needles. But I didn’t strive for women at all, because my goal was different - I didn’t open my bags and nodules, but sold only seeds, from which the grass of love densely sprouted.

Finally, my face was densely covered with furrows of wrinkles, I had nowhere to go and I returned to the familiar city of Osaka, there I appealed to the compassion of old friends and got the position of manager in the house of love. I put on a special outfit with a light red apron and a wide belt, wrapped a towel around my head, and a stern expression on my face. My responsibilities include monitoring guests, polishing young girls, dressing up, appeasing, but also about secret tricks with friends. Yes, I just went too far, I was too harsh and picky, and I had to say goodbye to the place of ruler. I did not have any outfits or savings, my years exceeded sixty-five, although people assured me that I looked forty. When it rained and thundered, I begged the god of thunder to annoy me. To satisfy my hunger, I had to gnaw fried beans. They also tortured visions, all my unborn Ubume children came to me at night, shouting and crying that I was a criminal mother. Ah, how these night ghosts tormented me! After all, I could become a respected mother of a large family clan! I wanted to put an end to my life, but in the morning the ghosts of ubume melted away, and I could not say goodbye to this world. I began to wander at night and joined the crowds of those women who, in order not to starve, grab the men by the sleeves in the dark streets and pray that there would be more dark nights. Among them came old women of about seventy. They taught me how to better choose liquid hair and give myself the appearance of a venerable widow, they say there are always hunters there. On snowy nights, I wandered along bridges, streets, although I kept telling myself that I had to somehow feed, but still it was hard for me. Yes, and something blind was not to be seen. Everyone strove to bring me to the lantern by the bench. The dawn began to squeamish, the drovers of bulls, blacksmiths, roving merchants came to work, but I was too old and ugly, no one looked at me, and I decided to leave this field forever.

I went to the capital and went to pray in Daiji Temple, which seemed to me on the eve of paradise. My soul was filled with piety. I approached the statues of five hundred arharts, disciples of Buddha, skillfully carved from wood, and began to invoke the name of God. And suddenly I noticed that the faces of arhats remind me of the faces of my former lovers, and I began to remember everyone in turn, those whom I loved most and whose names she wrote with a brush on their wrists. Many of my former lovers have already turned into smoke on a funeral pyre.I froze in place, recognizing my former lovers, one after another, memories of my past sins arose. It seemed that a fiery chariot of hell was rumbling in my chest, tears were pouring from my eyes, I fell to the ground. Oh shameful past! I wanted to commit suicide, but one of my old friends stopped me. He said that I should live quietly and righteously and wait for death, she herself would come to me. I heeded good advice and now I am waiting for death in this hut. Let this story become a confession about past sins, and now in my soul a precious lotus flower has blossomed.