"The first intimation of a new romance [in Heian-kyo, a thousand years ago] for a woman of the court was the arrival at her door of a messenger bearing a five-line poem in an unfamiliar hand. If the woman found the poem sufficiently intriguing, the paper it was written on suitable for its contents and mood, and the calligraphy acceptably graceful, her encouraging reply -- itself in the form of a poem -- would set in motion a clandestine, love-night visit from her suitor. The first night together was, according to established etiquette, sleepless; lovemaking and talk were expected to continue without pause until the man, protesting the night's brevity, departed in the first light of the predawn. Even then he was not free to turn his thoughts to the day's official duties: a morning-after poem had to be written and sent off by means of an ever-present messenger page, who would return with the woman's reply. Only after this exchange had been completed could the night's success be fully judged by whether the poems were equally ardent and accomplished, referring in image and nuance to the themes of the night just passed. Subsequent visits were made on the same clandestine basis and under the same circumstances, until the relationship was either made official by a private ceremony of marriage or ended."
- from the introduction to The Ink Dark Moon, trans. Jane Hirshfield with Mariko Aratani
- from the introduction to The Ink Dark Moon, trans. Jane Hirshfield with Mariko Aratani
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