This book is noticeable about everything that passed before my eyes and worried my heart, I wrote in the silence and solitude of my house ...

In the spring - dawn.

All the whiter edges of the mountains, now they are slightly lit up with light. Purple clouds touched by thin ribbons creep across the sky.

In summer, night.

There is no word, she is beautiful in the moonlight, but moonless gloom pleases her eyes when countless fireflies are worn in the air ...

In the fall - twilight.

The sunset, casting bright rays, is approaching the teeth of the mountains. Crows, three, four, two, hurry to their nests - what a sad charm! The sun will set, and everything is full of unspeakable sadness: the sound of the wind, the sound of cicadas ...

In the winter - early morning.

Fresh snow, there’s nothing to say, it’s beautiful, white hoarfrost too, but wonderful and frosty morning without snow. Hastily light a fire, bring blazing coals - and you feel the winter! Beautiful is the time of the fourth moon during the Kamo festival. The ceremonial caftans of the most notable dignitaries, higher courtiers differ only in shades of purple, darker and lighter. The underwear is made of white silk. So it blows cool, the sparse foliage on the trees turns green young. And in the evening light clouds will run in, somewhere in the distance a cry of a cuckoo is hiding, as unclear as if it seems to you ... But how worried is his heart! Young girls - participants in the solemn procession - have already washed and combed their hair, the holiday fuss reigns in the house - either the ties broke, then the sandals didn’t i.e. Mothers, aunts, sisters - all ceremoniously dressed up - accompany the girls, each decently to its rank. A brilliant procession!

It happens that people call the same thing by different names. The words are different, but the meaning is the same. Monk's speech. The speech is men. The speech of a woman.

Laconicism is beautiful.

Madame Cat, who served at the court, was respectfully called Madame Mebou, the Empress especially loved her. Once, the mother, who was set against the lady cat, shouted at her when she was dozing in the sun, and ordered the dog Okinamaro to bite her. The stupid dog rushed at the cat, and she sneaked into the emperor's chambers - and sniffed to him in the bosom. The emperor was surprised, ordered to punish the negligent mother, and beat the dog and send to Dog Island. The dog was kicked out of the gate. More recently, on the third day of the third moon, he proudly marched in a procession, his head decorated with peach flowers, and on the back there was a branch of blooming cherry. At noon we heard a mournful howl of a dog, then Okinamaro slowly returned from exile. They attacked him and threw him again. At midnight, some dog, swollen, beaten beyond recognition, was under the veranda. The close sovereigns wondered and could not understand whether he or not. And the poor dog trembled, and tears flowed from his eyes. So, after all, Okinamaro, Putting the mirror down, I exclaimed: “Okinamaro!” And the dog barked joyfully, the empress smiled, and the emperor himself came to us, learning what had happened, and forgave the dog. How he cried when he heard the words of cordial participation! But it was a simple dog. That which brings discouragement.

A dog that howls in broad daylight.

Winter clothes of the color of scarlet plum at the time of the third or fourth moon.

Maternity room where the baby died.

Expect all night. Dawn is already dawning, when suddenly a soft knock on the door. Your heart beat faster, you send people to the gate to find out who has granted, but it turns out that there is not the one you are waiting for, but a person who is completely indifferent to you.

Or one more thing.

A poem in the old taste, without special beauties, composed in a moment of boredom by an old man hopelessly behind the times, brings a poem in the old style, without special beauties, into the busy house.

Long rains in the last month of the year.

Something to make fun of.

The collapsed fence.

The man who was known as a great man.

What bothers.

A guest who endlessly rants when you have no time. If you can not reckon with him, you will quickly get him off without long ceremonies. And if the guest is a significant person?

You rub the stick of the carcass, and a hair sticks to the carcass. Or a pebble fell into the mascara and scratches the ear: creak creak.

That which is expensive as a memory. Dried mallow leaves. Toy utensils for dolls.

On a dreary day when it rains, you will suddenly find an old letter from someone who was dear to you.

That which pleases the heart

The heart rejoices when you write on white, clean paper with such a thin brush that it seems that it will not leave any traces. Spun soft threads of fine silk. A sip of water in the middle of the night when you wake up from a dream. Flowers on tree branches.

Most beautiful is the spring color of red hues: from pale pink to deep scarlet. In the dark green of an orange, flowers dazzle with red. With what to compare their charm the next morning after the rain. The orange is inseparable from the cuckoo and is especially dear to people. The pear flower is very modest, but poems are written about it in China. You look - and in fact at the ends of its petals lies a pink glow, so light that it seems your eyes are deceiving you.

That which is subtly beautiful.

A white cloak, lined with white, over a pale purple dress.

Wild goose eggs.

Showered with plum blossom.

A pretty child who eats strawberries.

At the time of the seventh moon, whirlwinds blow, the rains rustle. Almost all the time the weather is cold, forget about the summer fan. But it’s very nice to take a nap during the day, throwing clothes on a thin cotton lining on your head, still retaining a faint smell of sweat.

That is at odds with each other. Snow on a pathetic shack.

Toothless woman bites a plum and frowns: sour. A woman from the bottom of society put on purple harem pants. Nowadays, however, you see this at every turn.

A man must be accompanied by an escort. The most charming beauties are worthless in my eyes if they are not followed by a retinue.

The child played with a homemade bow and a whip. He was lovely! I so wanted to stop the crew and hug him.

Leaving his beloved at dawn, a man should not care too much about his outfit. At the moment of parting, he, full of regret, hesitates to rise from his love bed. The lady urges him to leave: it’s already light, they will see! But he would have been happy if morning had never come. But it happens that another lover pops up in the morning, as if stung. In parting, he throws only: “Well, I’ve gone!”

Herbs.

Omodaka grass is "arrogant."

Mikuri grass. Grass "leech mat." Moss, young sprouts on thawed patches. Ivy. Oxygen is bizarre in appearance, it is depicted in brocade.

What a pity to me the grass "confusion of the heart."

Themes of verses. Capital. Creeping vine ... Mikuri grass. Foal. Hail.

That which gives birth to alarm.

You arrive on a moonless night in an unfamiliar house. The lights in the lamps are not lit so that the faces of women remain hidden from prying eyes, and you sit next to invisible people.

It was a clear, moonlit night. The Empress sat not far from the veranda. Maid of honor delighted her playing the lute. The ladies laughed and talked. But I, leaning against one of the tables on the veranda, remained silent.

"Why are you silent? Asked the empress. - Say at least a word. I'm sad".

“I only contemplate the innermost heart of the autumn moon,” I replied.

“Yes, that is exactly what you should have said,” the empress said.

I write for my own pleasure everything that comes to my mind without an account. Can my careless sketches compare with real books written according to all the rules of art? Nevertheless, there were supportive readers who told me: “This is wonderful!” I was amazed.