Prevod

He was rather tall and slender, and though his figure was exceedingly elegant, his manners and bearing were foolish, and there was something uncouth about him. His head was shaped like a stirrup, so that the tail of his court cap did not rest against his back but swung clear of it. His complexion was a bluish white, as though painted with flower dye; his eye sockets were deep, his nose conspicuously high and red, and his lips thin and colorless. When he smiled, he showed a great deal of tooth; his gums were red, and his beard, too, was reddish and long. His voice was high and nasal, and whenever he spoke it rang out sharply. He walked with his body swaying and his buttocks swinging. His complexion was so very blue that the young noblemen attending at court nicknamed him Lord Aotsune and laughed at him. The young men gave him no peace, laughing and jeering whenever he stood up or sat down, until at last the Emperor could bear to hear no more. “It is unseemly of these fellows to laugh at him so. Will not his father, the prince, resent me if he hears of it and learns that I have done nothing to stop them?” he said, and rebuked them sternly. The courtiers clicked their tongues, and all agreed that they must laugh at him no more. Then they said to one another, “Since we have been scolded so severely, let us swear an oath never to do it again. If anyone calls him Lord Aotsune after we have sworn, we shall make him bring out wine and fruit as a forfeit.” They settled the matter and took their oath. Not long afterward, Lord Horikawa, who was then attending at court, happened to see the man get up and walk away. At the sight of his retreating figure, he forgot himself and said, “Where is that Aotsune fellow off to?” “It is most unseemly of you to break our oath like this,” the courtiers declared. “Send for wine and fruit at once, as we agreed, and pay your forfeit!” They gathered around him, clamoring and pressing their demand. He argued and tried to refuse, but they insisted so earnestly that at last he said, “Very well. The day after tomorrow, then, I shall pay my forfeit for Lord Aotsune. Let all the courtiers and chamberlains assemble that day.” With that, he left. When the day came, not a man failed to appear, for the Horikawa Middle Captain was to pay his forfeit for Lord Aotsune. The courtiers sat in rows waiting, and presently the Middle Captain arrived in informal court dress. He was a man of radiant beauty, scented with an indescribably lovely fragrance, and fairly overflowing with charm. Beneath the splendid, flowing skirts of his court robe he had let a lustrous blue-green underrobe show, and his gathered trousers were blue-green as well. He had dressed three attendants in blue-green hunting robes and trousers. One carried a tray painted blue-green, upon which a blue-green earthenware dish was heaped with hardy kiwifruit. Another carried a bamboo branch with four or five green pigeons fastened to it. The third bore wine in a blue-green earthenware jar, its mouth covered with thin blue-green paper. When they came forward one after another and set these things before the courtiers, the men burst into such a tremendous roar of laughter that the Emperor heard it. “What is happening in the courtiers’ hall to make such a commotion?” he asked. A lady-in-waiting replied, “Kanemichi called the man Aotsune, and the gentlemen demanded that he pay a forfeit. They are laughing at the way he is paying it.” “How is he paying it?” the Emperor asked. He came out to his daytime seat and peered through the lattice shutters. Seeing that Kanemichi and his attendants were dressed entirely in blue-green, and that even the food they had brought as the forfeit was green, he understood what had made them laugh. He could not bring himself to be angry, and laughed heartily too. After that, no one seriously rebuked them, and they laughed and mocked the man more than ever.