On the thirtieth, we lodged at the foot of the Nikko Mountains. "I am called Buddha Gozaemon," the master of the house informed us. "People have given me that title because I make it a point to be honest in all my dealings. You may rest here tonight with your minds at ease."

"What kind of Buddha is it that has manifested himself in this impure world to help humble travellers like us - mendicant monks, as it were, on a pious pilgrimage?" I wondered. By paying close attention to his behavior, I satisfied myself that he was indeed a man of stubborn integrity, devoid of shrewdness and calculation. He was one of those, "firm, resolute, simple, and modest, who are near virtue,"* and I found his honorable, unassuming nature wholly admirable.

On the First of the Fourth Month, we went to worship at the shrine. In antiquity, the name of that holy mountain was written Nikosan [Two-Storm Mountain], but the Great Teacher Kukai changed it to Nikko [Sunlight] when he founded the temple. It is almost as though the Great Teacher had been able to see 1,000 years into the future, for today the shrine's radiance extends throughout the realm, its beneficience overflows in the eight directions, and the four classes of people dwell in security and peace. This is an awesome subject of which I shall write no more.

ara toto	Ah, awesome sight!
aoba wakaba no	on summer leaves and spring leaves
hi no hikari	the radiance of the sun!*

Kurokamiyama was veiled in haze, dotted with lingering patches of white snow. Sora composed this poem:

sori sutete	Black hair shaved off
kurokamiyama ni	at Kurokamiyama
koromogae	I change to new robes.*

Sora is of the Kawai family; he was formerly called Sogoro. He lived in a house adjoining mine, almost under the leaves of the banana plant, and used to help me with the chores of hauling wood and drawing water. Delighted by the thought of seeing Matsushima and Kisakata with me on this trip, and eager also to spare me some of the hardships of the road, he shaved his head at dawn on the day of our departure, put on a monk's black robe, and changed his name to Sogo. That is why he composed the Kurokamiyama [Black hair Mountain] poem. The word koromogae ["I change to new robes"] was most effective.*

There is a waterfall half a league or so up the mountain. The stream leaps with tremendous force over the outthrust rocks at the top and descends 100 feet into a dark green pool strewn with 1,000 rocks. Visitors squeeze into the space between the rocks and the cascade to view it from the rear, which is why it is called Urami-no-take [Rearview Falls].

shibaraku wa	In brief seclusion
taki ni komoru ya	at a waterfall - the start
ge no hajime	of a summer retreat.