Classic Poem

Toward the end of the second month in the fifth year of Jokyo [1688], I went to Ise. This was the fifth time I trod the ground in front of the sanctuary. As I had grown old by still another year, I felt its awesome light and venerableness all the more strongly. Recalling fondly that it was the place where Saigyo shed tears and wrote of his " gratitude, " I spread my fan on the ground and put my forehead on it:
From the blossoms of what tree I don't know — but this fragrance!