So I'm to be a kyōju (教授, professor) again. Imagine that. Am I doing the right thing? Where's my jisonshin (自尊心, pride)? Shouldn't I have keibetsu shita 軽蔑した, spat in their faces) when they asked me back, or told them I was busy?
I wasn't busy. True — but I should have been! Instead of fusagikomu (ふさぎ込む, moping around) for weeks on end, why didn't I get started on that book on the Edo Jidai (江戸時代, Edo Period [1603-1867]) I've been meaning to write for the past 30 years? There is nobody living who knows the Edo Jidai as I do! Ah, karaibari (空威張り, brave words!)
The Edo Period, with its samurai-scholars, hermit-poets, ribald chōnin (町人, merchants), junreisha (巡礼者, pilgrims) thronging the roads to Ise Jingu (神宮, Ise Shrine) — how it all gripped my imagination! Long before I came to Japan. Jūdai no jidai ni (十代の時代に, as a teenager) in England, I had this sansei (三世, third-generation) Japanese kanojo (彼女, girlfriend), and I used to tell her I was the inja (隠者, hermit-monk) Ryokan reincarnated. And she boku wo baka ni shita (僕を馬鹿にした, laughed at me), but dōji ni (同時に, at the same time) she half believed me! Shōjiki ni ieba (正直に言えば, to tell you the truth), I half believed it myself. Still do. Why, I could recite his poems in kampeki na (完璧な, flawless) Japanese before I even knew how to say good morning!