“The music, too?”
“Yes, augustness. By profession I am a geisha, but since the war our business is so poor we are obliged to become tea-waitresses also.”
“And are geishas also poetesses and musicians?”
“Yes, gracious one. Shall I write my honorably foolish poetry for you, and will you condescend to accept it?”
“I should be delighted. I should keep it always. But sing to us again.”
She sang shrilly, to the high notes of her samisen:
“Look! the moon is peeping,
Little maid, take care!
Lovers trysts are keeping,
Little maid, take care!