Back in my room I was composing myself for sleep when I noticed something in the hem of his gown. It was a slightly torn piece of paper, on which this poem was written:

Reality? A dream?
Still I cannot discern
In my lingering anguish
The moon this autumn night!
When had he found time to write this? [2.8]

sad girl



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From The Confessions of Lady Nijō, translated by Karen Brazell - About this site