Out of all the attendants of Genji there were four or five who had been more especially his favorites, and who had constantly attended on him. One evening they were all sitting together in a corridor which commanded a full view of the sea. They perceived the island of Awaji lying in the distance, as if it were floating on the horizon, and also several boats with sailors, singing as they rowed to the shore over the calm surface of the water, like waterfowl in their native element. Over their heads flocks of wild geese rustled on their way homeward with their plaintive cry, which made the thoughts of the spectators revert to their homes. Genji hummed this verse:—
"Those wandering birds above us flying,
Do they our far-off friends resemble.
With their voice of plaintive crying
Make us full of thoughtful sighing."
Yoshikiyo took up the idea and replied:—
"Though these birds no friends of ours
Are, and we to them are nought,
Yet their voice in these still hours
Bring those old friends to our thought."
Then Koremitz continued:—
"Before to-day I always thought
They flew on pleasure's wing alone,
But now their fate to me is fraught
With some resemblance to our own."
Ukon-no-Jiô added:—
"Though we, like them, have left our home
To wander forth, yet still for me
There's joy to think where'er I roam
My faithful friends are still with me."
Ukon-no-Jiô was the brother of Ki-no-Kami. His father, Iyo-no-Kami, had now been promoted to be Hitachi-no-Kami (Governor of Hitachi), and had gone down to that province, but Ukon-no-Jiô did not join his father, who would have gladly taken him, and faithfully followed Genji.
This evening happened to be the fifteenth of August, on which day a pleasant reunion is generally held at the Imperial Palace. Genji looked at the silvery pale sky, and as he did so the affectionate face of the Emperor, his brother, whose expression strikingly resembled their father's, presented itself to his mind. After a deep and long sigh, he returned to his couch, humming as he went:—