途中で麦畑を通り掛る。
出川を渉ったら、毎朝の白鷺がいる。
目礼して進んで、時半に着く。
『徒然草』を読めば、下記の文があった。
「牛を売る者あり。買ふ人、明日（あす）その価（あたひ）をやりて牛を取らんといふ。夜（よ）の間（ま）に牛死にぬ。買はんとする人に利あり。売らんとする人に損あり。」と語る人あり。それを聞きて、かたへなる者のいはく、「牛の主（ぬし）まことに損ありといへども、また大きなる利あり。その故は、生あるもの、死の近き事を知らざる事、牛すでに然（しか）なり。人また同じ。はからざるに牛は死し、はからざるに主は存（ぞん）ぜり。一日（いちにち）のいのち、万金（ばんきん）よりも重し。牛のあたひ、鵝毛（がもう）よりも軽（かろ）し。万金（ばんきん）を得て一銭を失はん人、損ありといふべからず。」
「兼好のやつ、一葉のようにきれいに書いてくれたなあ」と思った私。
実際、兼好のようにきれいに書いてくれた一葉。
今日より柔道部に入部する私。
本日の練習大抵見習うものの、一応先輩と手合わせをしてみる。
一回負け、そして又一回勝つ。
私の腕、やはり錆びたかと。
帰り道に雨が降り注ぐ。
Diary: Hillside Rain
In the morning, I set out on foot for school.
Midway, I passed by fields of wheat.
As I crossed the Degawa River, the crane I see each morning was there.
I nodded to him and continued on, and arrived at the half-hour.
Reading the "Tsurezuregusa", I came across the following passage.
There was a person who said, 'A man was selling his ox. The buyer was to come in the morning, pay the agreed-upon sum, and take the ox. The ox died in the night. He who would have bought it was fortunate; he who would have sold it was unfortunate.' Hearing this, another replied, 'Though it is true indeed that the owner of the ox was unfortunate, he was also very fortunate. What I mean by that is this: those things that have life live unaware of their nearness to death, and the ox was so. Men are the same. By chance the ox died, and by chance the owner lived. The life of a single day is heavier than a fortune in gold; the price of an ox is lighter than a down feather. He who would lose a fortune for the sake of a pittance is unfortunate indeed.'
I thought, 'That Kenkō fellow wrote beautifully in the manner of Ichiyō.'
Actually, it is Ichiyō who wrote beautifully in the manner of Kenkō.
The rain poured down upon my homeward path.