moon was shedding a full flood of crystal light, and the lespedeza, the Platycodon grandiflorum, the Anthesteria barbata, the valerian, the pampas grass [or something like it], the Dolichos bulbosus, and such-like flowers[1] were blossoming luxuriantly and heavy with dew. The shrill notes of various insects piping with all their might, mingled with the chanting of the prayers and the sound of the bell, produced a sense of loneliness and desolation. There was borne on the wind the boom of a bell struck in some temple away on the moor, which by the number of its strokes indicated that the night was already far spent. His fire, too, had gone out, so the pilgrim thought to himself, 'I must snatch a short sleep.' He hung up a tent of oil-paper, and spreading on the grass his rain coat to keep off the dew of night, with a tree-root for his pillow he laid himself down. He was soon plunged in deep slumber, forgetful alike of past and future. But after awhile he woke, and pricking up his ears, 'Was that an insect's cry? No! it was a faint, far-off sound of music.' The pilgrim wondered how on this desolate moor, at this late hour of the night, such beautiful music could be heard. Was it not an enchantment by some fox, badger, or wild cat? Presently he raised up his tent, and putting out his head, looked round. The weather had changed, and a night mist had gathered thickly, obscuring the moon. Even nigh at hand nothing could be seen. But the music came closer and closer."
The mist clears away, the moon again shines out, and a splendid palace is seen, which Kiōden describes with great wealth of language. It proves to be inhabited by the spirits of a wicked lady of noble birth and her equally wicked retainers, who use the brief respite
- ↑ Such are some of the difficulties of a translator from the Japanese.
