El libro de la almohada es el
diario más famoso de la literatura japonesa, fue escrito por Sei Shonagon hacia
el año 1000 durante el período Heian. La autora relata, con aguda observación,
sensibilidad descriptiva y mucha inteligencia, aspectos de la vida cotidiana,
descripciones de la vida de la corte, reflexiones y aforismos, que escribía
cada día al terminar la jornada, antes de dormir. Entre los trescientos
capítulos breves que componen el diario se encuentran anotaciones sobre temas
como la naturaleza, las estaciones, la belleza y el tiempo. Su nombre deviene del lugar en el que se
guardaba, en la cabecera de la cama, debajo de la almohada.
Sei Shonagon
logró convertirse en dama de compañía de la emperatriz consorte Fujiwara no
Sadako, gracias al cargo que tenía su padre, el poeta Kiyohara no Motosuke.
Permaneció en la corte luego de la muerte de la emperatriz entre siete y diez
años más, para posteriormente convertirse en religiosa budista. Su vida fue
poco conocida. Hasta su muerte vivió como errante cerca de la isla de Shikoku, Japón,
manteniéndose gracias a las limosnas. Aunque su obra más importante fue Makura no Soshi, también compuso una colección
de poemas llamado Sei Shanogan-shu.
The
Beauty of the Seasons
In
spring it is the dawn that is most beautiful. As the light creeps over the
hills, their outlines are dyed a faint red and wisps of purplish cloud trail
over them.
In
summer the nights. Not only when the moon shines, but on dark nights too, as
the fireflies flit to and fro, and even when it rains, how beautiful it is!
In
autumn the evenings, when the glittering sun sinks close to the edge of the
hills and the crows fly back to their nests in threes and fours and twos; more
charming still is a file of wild geese, like specks in the distant sky. When
the sun has set, one’s heart is moved by the sound of the wind and the hum of
the insects.
In
winter the early mornings. It is beautiful indeed when snow has fallen during
the night, but splendid too when the ground is white with frost; or even when
there is no snow or frost, but it is simply very cold and the attendants hurry
from room to room stirring up the fires and bringing charcoal, how well this
fits the season’s mood! But as noon approaches and the cold wears off, no one
bothers to keep the braziers alight, and soon nothing remains but piles of
white ashes.
Rains
and Ponds
During
the long rains in the Fifth Month, there is something very moving about a place
with a pond. Between the dense irises, water-oats, and other plants one can see
the green of the water; and the entire garden seems to be the same green
colour. One stays there all day long, gazing in contemplation at the clouded
sky—oh, how moving it is!
I am
always moved and delighted by places that have ponds—not only in the winter
(when I love waking up to find that the water has frozen over) but at every
time of the year. The ponds I like best are not those in which everything is
carefully laid out; I much prefer one that has been left to itself so that it
is wild and covered with weeds. At night in the green spaces of water one can
see nothing but the pale glow of the moonlight. At any time and in any place I
find moonlight very moving.
Snow
It is
delightful when there has been a thin fall of snow; or again when it has piled
up very high and in the evening we sit round a brazier at the edge of the
veranda with a few congenial friends, chatting till darkness falls. There is no
need for the lamp, since the snow itself reflects a clear light. Raking the
ashes in the brazier with a pair of fire-tongs, we discuss all sorts of moving
and amusing things.
Winds
A
stormy wind. At dawn, when one is lying in bed with the lattices and panelled
doors wide open, the wind suddenly blows into the room and stings one’s
face—most delightful.
A
cold wintry wind.
In
the Third Month the moist, gentle wind that blows in the evenings moves me
greatly.
Also
moving is the cool, rainy wind in the Eighth and Ninth Months. Streaks of rain
are blown violently from the side, and I enjoy watching people cover their
stiff robes of unlined silk with the padded coats that they put away after the
summer rains.
Towards
the end of the Ninth Month and the beginning of the Tenth the sky is clouded
over, there is a strong wind, and the yellow leaves fall gently to the ground,
especially from the cherry trees and the elms. All this produces a most
pleasant sense of melancholy. In the Tenth Month I love gardens that are full
of trees.
Morris,
Ivan (traductor) The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon. London: Penguin Book, 1971
