Dazai Osamu -Oblique Sun 7-3

　He probably doesn't know anything about other people's paintings, whether they are foreign or Japanese. In addition, he probably doesn't even know what he's painting. You are just self-consciously smearing paint on the canvas for money to entertain yourself.
　And what's even more amazing is that he doesn't seem to have any doubt, shame, or fear about his horseshit.
　He's just good at it. In any case, since he doesn't understand his own work, there is no way he can understand the quality of other people's work.
　In other words, his decadent life is just a foolish country bumpkin playing around in his euphoria over his unexpected success in the city he had longed for.
　One day I'll say.
When I said to him, "It's too embarrassing and horrible for me to study alone when all my friends are slacking off and playing, so even if I don't want to play at all, I'll join them and play.
　The middle-aged Western-style painter said.
The middle-aged Western-style painter said, "Huh?　The middle-aged Western-style painter replied, "That's what you call aristocracy, isn't it? The middle-aged Western-style painter replied, "Huh?
　At that time, I despised the Western-style painter from the bottom of my heart. There was no anguish in this man's indulgence. Rather, he is proud of his foolish games. He is a true fool and a joyous child.
　But even if I were to speak ill of this painter in various ways, it would be none of my sister's business.
　The only thing I want my sister to know is that I longed for his wife, wandered around, and had a hard time. So, even if you find out about it, there is absolutely no need for you to complain to anyone about it, to make your brother fulfill his wishes before his death, or anything like that. In addition, if you want, I would be very happy if you could at least understand more deeply the pain of my life so far, based on my shameful confession.
　One day, I dreamt that I was holding hands with my wife. When I woke up from the dream, I could still feel the warmth of her fingers on my palm, and I knew that I should be satisfied with that and give up. It wasn't that I was afraid of morality, it was that I was afraid of that half-crazy, almost crazy, Western-style painter. I wanted to give up, so I tried to turn the fire in my heart elsewhere, and I went on a wild goose chase with every woman I could find, so wild that even the painter frowned at me one night. I wanted to get away from the illusion of my wife, to forget her, to do away with everything. But no. In the end, I'm a man who can only fall in love with one woman. I can say it clearly. I've never found any of your wife's other girlfriends to be beautiful or attractive.
　Sister.
　I'd like to write about it just once before I die.
　…… Suga-chan.
　That's his wife's name.
　It's not that I don't like her at all (she has an inherent stupidity about her), but I didn't come to the lodge with the intention of dying this morning. I was planning to die someday soon, but yesterday I came to the lodge with the woman because she wanted to go on a trip and I was tired of playing in Tokyo, so I thought it would not be a bad idea to spend a couple of days with this stupid woman at the lodge. I thought it would be a good idea to rest at the mountain cottage for three days.
　I had always wanted to die in the back room of that house in Nishikatamachi. I didn't want to die on the street or in the field, and have my corpse tossed around by the yajimas. But now that the house in Nishikatamachi was in the hands of someone else, I knew I had no choice but to die in this mountain cottage, but I was afraid that my sister would be the first to discover my suicide, and how shocked and frightened she would be. I didn't think I would be able to do it.
　But, what a chance. My sister was not here, and instead, Dansaa, who was extremely dull, was going to be the one to discover my suicide.
　Last night, we had a few drinks together, put the woman in the western-style room upstairs, and I pulled up a futon in the room below where my mother died.
　My sister.
　There is no ground for hope for me. Good-bye.
　In the end, my death was a natural death. People can't die from thought alone, you know.
　Also, I have a very tedious request. My mother's hemp kimono. I'm sure my sister sewed it back together for Naoji to wear next summer. Please put that kimono in my coffin. I've always wanted to wear it.
　The dawn came. Thank you for all the trouble you have put me through for so long.
　Good-bye.
　I am completely sober from last night's alcohol. I'm going to die sober.
　One more time, goodbye.
　Sister.
　I'm a nobleman.