M9: Words Are Worth a Thousand Pictures

     Woken by the sound of oars slicing choppy water, I slid out of my bunk and climbed a set of stairs onto the deck of my ship. All around me, the China Sea stretched out for miles. After 30 days of sailing, I had found my sea legs, and I confidently strolled to the end of the vessel. Prince Shotoku had entreated me to travel to China as his advisor, so I had been given a crew and a boat. Once in China, I was to collect examples of Chinese culture to bring back to Japan. The adventure was very exciting, but sailing for months was starting to annoy me. I was understanding the ways of ocean travel, so I awoke the crew and we rode a wave of wind closer to our destination.
     The horizon line was fuzzy with morning fog. Miles away, a shape was becoming prominent in the haze. I could make out building and trees that dotted what I now realized was land. We increased our speed and were at the port of China within the hour. People carried sculptures of Buddha into pagodas and musicians played gagaku on shengs. I was amazed by the commotion, and I jumped off the boat with gusto. In a frenzy, I grabbed huge stone carvings, maps of Chang'an, drawings of temples, Buddhist writings, and Chinese calligraphy. At the last minute, I grabbed an unimportant piece of poetry and shoved it into the already full boat. When I had substantial collection of Chinese culture, I headed back to Japan.
     Our boat moved slowly away from the mainland. With the boat brimming with artifacts, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had completed Prince Shotoku's task, and I would be honored when I reached Japan. A ship was moving toward us, but I thought nothing of it until the vessel was practically on top of us. Suddenly I noticed the flag waving from its mast. Pirates! I called all hands on deck, but already the swashbucklers were boarding our boat. They took all of our precious cargo. They left after the deck had been cleaned of everything. Dismayed, I realized that I would have to report to Prince Shotoku empty handed. We didn't have enough supplies to go back to China. With a heart full of sorrow, I retreated to my quarters.
     After the attack, the journey was more subdued. We anxiously awaited our arrival in Japan, fearing our failure. As I halfheartedly commanded the crew, a lone piece of paper on the deck caught my eye. Flipping it over, I quickly scanned the beautiful poem written on it:
Sitting by the oak,
My mind wanders, as always,
Transporting me to
A peaceful place where nature 
And man live in harmony
I recognized the poem as tanka, a Japanese form of literature with 5 lines. Hope overcame me. Maybe my journey hadn't gone to waste.
     Rushing up the steps of Prince Shotoku's palace, I hoped he would accept the poem. I entered the throne room and showed the ruler my makeshift collection of culture. At first, he was skeptical of my marginal work. "Is this all you have brought?" he asked gruffly. As he read the poem, however, a smile spread across his face. "I love the use of syllables." he stated. Showing the poem to others that had gathered, I knew that I had made the right decision. The royalty started making up tanka poems of their own. Word quickly spread through the city about the new phenomenon. I had just introduced Japan to a new art form.