the legend has been handed down. When I was a boy and my mother told it to me, I used to listen, enthralled, and filled with pity for the young woman. Yet now I feel that your wife Miyagi's fate was sadder by far even than that of innocent young Tegona of old.'
While speaking, Grandfather Uruma wept profusely, unable to stop, losing control of his emotions as old people so easily do. Katsushirō, upon hearing the story, was also beside himself with grief, and in the clumsy style of a man from the provinces, he made a poem: 247
|Inishie no||No matter how much|
|Mama no Tegona wo||They loved Tegona|
|kaku bakari||In that bygone age,|
|koite shi aran||I loved my dear wife|
|Mama no Tegona wo||Every bit as much.|
Of his true feelings he could scarcely express a small part, but in some ways his plaintive cry may have been more genuine than poems by far more skilful hands.
The story of Miyagi and Katsushirō was brought back by merchants who from time to time have paid visits to that province.
THE CARP THAT CAME
TO MY DREAM
(Muō no rigyo)