There is a lady, Saémon-no-Naishi, who unreasonably cherished hatred of me. I was not at first aware of it, but later heard of much criticism of me in my absence. Once the King was listening to a reading of my Genji-monogatari, and said, "She is gifted, she must have read the Chronicle of Japan." This lady heard of it, and unreflectingly spread abroad among the courtiers the idea that I am very proud of my learning, giving me the name of "The Japanese Chronicle lady"—it is laughable, indeed! I am reserved even before the maids of my own house; how then should I show my learning in Court? When my elder brother Shikibu-no-Jo was a boy he was taught to read "Chinese Historical Records."[95] I listened, sitting beside him, and learned wonderfully fast, though he was sometimes slow and forgot. Father, who was devoted to study, regretted that I had not been a son, but I heard people saying that it is not beautiful even for a man to be proud of his learning, and after that I did not write so much as the figure one in Chinese. I grew clumsy with my [writing] brush. For a long time I did not care for the books I had already read. Thus I was ashamed to think how others would hate me on hearing what Lady Saémon said, and I assumed an air of not being able to read the characters written on the Royal screen. But the Queen made me read [to her] the poetical works of Li T'ai Po, and as she wished to learn them I have been teaching her since the Summer of two years ago the second and third volumes of that collection very secretly when none were present. Her Majesty and I tried to conceal it, but His Majesty the King and the Lord Prime Minister finding it out, the latter presented to the Queen many poetical books which he had had copied. I think that bitter Saémon does not know it yet. If she did, how she would criticize me!

Everything in this world is burdensome. Now I shall not be afraid whatever happens. Whatever others may say of me I will recite sutras kneeling before Amitabha Buddha.[96] When my mind has become completely free from the burden of the world, nothing will weaken my determination to become a saint. Though I set myself devotedly against worldly passions, it seems that there extends before me a limbo of dull wanderings before I can mount the cloud.[97] I must be there now. I am now of a fit age for the religious life. It is common to suppose that men read sutras when they are old, yet really they are not read, for minds grow more and more relax with age. I may be interpreted as one who imitates persons of profound thought, but I will devote myself to the religious life. The person of deep-rooted sin cannot succeed even in such a hope [as that]. There happens many a circumstance which makes me think of the [probable] wickedness of my prenatal life and everything makes me sad.

[There seems to be an abrupt transition here and the following paragraph seems to be part of a letter, perhaps sent with the diary or other writing.]

I wish I could make known everything to you, good and bad, things of the world, and those relating to my life—all that I could not write in my letters. You could not expect such writing as this from your friend? You feel weary of life; please look into my heart, also weary. Please write to me—even a little—whatever comes into your mind. It would be very unfortunate if my writings were scattered about and made known to others. I have written many things of this sort, but recently I have torn up all my old writings, burying some, and making dolls' houses of the rest. Since that time I have received no letters and am determined to write no more on fresh paper, so thrifty have I become! I think I am not in the wrong. After reading, please return quickly. As I could not revise all there may be some defects; read—overlooking them.

My mind has been wholly occupied with the things and persons of our world, and as I close this writing I reflect on how deeply rooted was my interest in them, but it was only accident that closed my descriptions of others.

[Here an interval during which she returns to Court.]

On the eleventh of the First month, 1009, in the early morning they went to the temple. The Lord Prime Minister's wife accompanied the Queen, others went by boat. I was belated and went at night. There was preaching. People made confession according to the custom of the mountain temple.[98] Many pictures of pagodas were painted, and they amused themselves. Most of the nobles had retired, and there were few persons left when the midnight preaching began. The preachers and interpreters of the sutras were twenty in number.... [Here is a sentence whose meaning is lost.] They all preached in different ways about the merit of the Queen's presence; there were many things laughed at. After the preaching the courtiers went boating; they all rowed and enjoyed themselves. At the eastern corner of the temple a bridge had been built opposite the door opening towards the North. There the High Official of the Crown Prince was leaning against the railing. The Lord Prime Minister came for a little while and talked with Lady Saisho, but as we were in the Queen's presence we could not be at our ease. It was pretty both within and without the temple. The pale moon appeared, and young nobles sang songs of the new fashion. A song related that those who had gone into the boat were young and pretty. The old Secretary of the Treasury was among them. He was ashamed with reason to sing with the others, and stood there rather embarrassed. The back view of him was comical and those within the misu [i.e. the ladies] secretly laughed. Some one said, "He in the boat is regretting old age." The High Official on the bridge heard it and sang, "The ancient seekers for eternal life—the tradition is full of lies."[99] It sounded very latest fashion, indeed. Some sang "The Duckweed" accompanied by the flute. Even the morning wind gave us unusual impressions because of the place.

In the Queen's presence was placed Genji-monogatari. Once the Lord Prime Minister saw it and after many playful words wrote to me on a [poem] paper attached to a plum branch.

[The following poem depends for its point on the play upon a word with two meanings.]

{ love
Being notorious for { sourness
I think none pass by without breaking a branch!