Anthology of Japanese Literature (21 page)

BOOK: Anthology of Japanese Literature
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It was not easy to keep awake on even the short nights of June, but if she did not fall asleep she would not dream of those who had passed away. Faintly the shadow of her single light fell on the wall outside, and all night the dismal drumming of the rain sounded on the lattice of the windows. And how it reminded her of the beloved past—this orange tree in blossom by the eaves that a former tenant had brought and planted there. Its heavy perfume was wafted into her chamber, and the notes of the nightingale were borne once and again to her ears.

The rest of the court ladies, who had thrown themselves into the sea but not with the same determination as the Lady Nii, had been roughly dragged out by the Genji soldiers and brought back to the capital. Young and old alike, they had all become nuns and were living in concealment in faraway valleys and dells in the mountains, wretched and emaciated in appearance and quite unrecognizable as their former selves.

The places where they lived have gone up in smoke, and the empty site, turned into overgrown moorland, is all that remains. No former intimate ever comes nigh. All is as unfamiliar now as his home to one who is bewitched by fairies and returns after seven generations.

THE FORMER EMPRESS GOES TO OHARA

On the ninth day of the seventh month the Empress's abode was ruined in the great earthquake. Its outer wall fell down, and she had nowhere to live. How the days had altered from the time the green-clad palace guards stood continually before her gate, for now the tumble-down wall, more bedewed with moisture than the outside moorland, seemed as if it understood the change of times and resented the incessant shrilling of the insects. Though the nights grew longer, the Empress could not sleep. She brooded continually over her melancholy condition, and this, added to the natural sadness of autumn, became almost too much for her to bear. In the changed world there was none to feel sympathy for her, and all those of her affinity were gone, leaving none to cherish her in her need.

Only the wife of Takafusa and the wife of Nobutaka used to help her secretly. "Ah," she exclaimed, "in former days who would have ever dreamed that I should come to accept anything from such as these?" The Empress thought that she would like to go somewhere far away in the depths of the mountains to spend her days remote from all sound of unrest, for her present dwelling was too near the capital and attracted the eyes of curious passers-by. For some time she did not hear of any suitable spot, but a lady came to tell her of a place in the mountains of Ohara, north of the capital, called the Jakk
ō
-in. "A mountain abode is very lonely, it is true," she answered, "but it would be good to live in a place remote from the troubles of this world." The matter was settled, and the wives of Nobutaka and Takafusa sent a palanquin to fetch her.

At the end of the ninth month she proceeded to the temple of the Jakk
ō
-in. As they went along she gazed at the beauty of the autumn tints while the sun sank gradually behind the mountains. The dreary boom of the evening bell of a wayside temple, and the thick-lying dew on the grass as they went by drew tears from her eyes. A fierce gale was whirling the leaves from the trees in all directions. Suddenly the sky grew dark and the autumn drizzle began to fall; the cry of a deer sounded faintly, and the shrilling of the insects was incessant. Nothing was wanting to add to the sum of her afflictions, which seemed indeed such as few had been made to suffer. Even when she had been driven about from shore to shore and from island to island her melancholy was not to be compared to this.

The place she had chosen to dwell was ancient and surrounded by mossy rocks. The reeds in the garden were now covered with hoarfrost instead of dew, and when she gazed on the faded hue of the withered chrysanthemums by the wall she could hardly fail to be reminded of her own condition. Entering before the Buddha, she prayed for the sacred spirit of the Emperor, that it might attain perfect Buddhahood, and for the departed spirits of all the Heike, that they might quickly enter the Way of Salvation. But still the image of the late Emperor was impressed on her mind, and wherever she might be, and in what world soever, she thought she could never forget it. They built for her a small cell ten feet square beside the Jakk
ō
-in, and in it were two rooms; in one she put her shrine of Buddha and in the other she slept. There she spent her time continually repeating the
nembutsu
and performing the Buddhist services, both by night and by day.

It happened that once, on the fifth day of the tenth month, she heard the sound as of someone treading on the oak leaves which had fallen and covered the garden. "Who can it be," she exclaimed, "that comes to disturb one who has thus renounced the world? Go and see; for I will conceal myself if it be anyone I do not wish to meet." One of the ladies went to look, and it was only a young stag that had passed that way.

THE PRIESTLY SOVEREIGN GOES TO OHARA
8

In the spring of 1186 the Priestly Sovereign expressed a wish to go to Ohara and see the place where Kenreimon'in was living in retirement, but March and April were stormy and the cold still lingered. The snow did not melt on the mountains nor the icicles thaw in the valleys. Spring passed and summer came, and the festival of Kamo was already over when His Majesty proceeded to the recesses of Ohara. The summer grasses had grown up thickly, and as they parted them on the little-trodden road His Majesty, who had never been there before, was much affected by the lonely uninhabited look of the place.

At the foot of the western mountains they came to a small temple. This was the Jakko-in. It might be described by the lines: "The roof tiles were broken, and the mist, entering, lit perpetual incense; the doors had fallen from their hinges and the moonbeams were its sanctuary lamps."
9
The pond and trees of its ancient garden were dignified; the young grass grew thick and the green shoots of the willow were tangled. The water plants on the pond, floating in the little waves, might have been mistaken for brocade. On the island the purple of the flowering wistaria mingled with the green of the pine; the late-blooming cherry among the young leaves was even more wonderful than the early blossoms. From the clouds of kerria roses that were flowering in profusion on the bank came the call of the cuckoo, a note of welcome in honor of His Majesty's visit.

The sound of the water was pleasant as it fell from the clefts of the timeworn rocks, and the ivied walls and beetling crags would have defied the brush of the painter. When His Majesty came to the cell of the former Empress, ivy was growing on the eaves and the morning-glory was climbing up them; the hare's-foot fern and the day lily mingled together, and here and there was a useless gourd-plant; here was the grass that grew thick in the path of Yen Yüan and the white goosefoot that keeps men at a distance, and here too was the rain that moistened the door of Yüan Hsien.
10
The cedar boards of the roof were gaping, so that the rain, the hoar-frost, and the dew of evening vied with the moonbeams in gaining entrance, and the place appeared almost uninhabitable. Behind was the mountain and in front was the moor, and the bamboo grasses rustled loudly in the wind. As is the way with those who have no friends in the world, she seldom heard any news from the capital, but instead the cry of the monkeys as they sprang from tree to tree and the sound of the wood-cutter's axe.

The Priestly Sovereign called to her, but there was no answer. After a while a withered-looking old nun appeared, and he asked her, "Where has the former Empress gone?" "Over to the mountain to pick some flowers," was the reply. "How hard it is," said His Majesty, "that since she renounced the world she has had no one to perform such services for her."

"This fate has come upon her in accordance with the Five Precepts and the Ten Virtues," said the nun. "Why then should she spare herself the austerities of mortifying her flesh?"

The Priestly Sovereign looked at this nun and noticed that she was clothed in pieces of silk and cotton roughly put together. He thought it strange that one of such appearance should speak thus, and asked who she was. For some time she could answer nothing, but only wept. After a while she controlled her feelings and replied, "I am Awa no Naiji, daughter of the late Shinzei. Once you loved me very deeply, and if now you have forgotten me it must be because I have become old and ugly." She pressed her sleeve to her face, unable to control herself any longer: a sight too pitiful to behold.

"Yes," said His Majesty, "it is you, Awa no Naiji. I had forgotten all about you. Everything now seems like a dream." He could not stop the tears, and the courtiers with him said with emotion, "She seemed to speak so strangely for a nun, but she had good cause."

Presently two nuns clad in dark robes were seen making their way slowly and painfully down through the rough rocks of the mountainside. The Priestly Sovereign asked who they were, and the nun replied, "The one carrying a basket of mountain azaleas on her arm is the former Empress, and the other, with a load of bracken for burning, is the daughter of Korezane."

The former Empress, since she was living apart from the world in this way, was so overwhelmed with shame at seeing the visitors that she would gladly have hidden herself somewhere to avoid them, but she could not retrace her steps to the mountains nor was she able to go into her cell. The old nun came to her as she stood dumbfounded, and took her basket from her hands.

"Since you have renounced the world," said Awa no Naiji, "what does it matter about your appearance? I pray you come and greet His Majesty, for he will soon be returning to the capital."
11

THE PASSING AWAY OF THE FORMER EMPRESS

The boom of the bell of the Jakk
ō
-in proclaimed the closing day as the evening sun began to sink in the west. His Majesty, full of regret at saying farewell, set out on his return journey with tears in his eyes. The former Empress, her mind occupied in spite of herself with thoughts of bygone days and shedding tears she could not restrain, stood watching the Imperial procession until she could see it no more. Again entering her cell, she prostrated herself before the Buddha. . . .

The former Empress continued to live on unhappily for some years, till at length she fell ill and took to her bed. She had been awaiting death for a long time, and now she took in her hand the cord of five colors that was fastened to the hand of the Buddha
12
and repeated the
nembutsu,
"Hail Amida Buddha, Lord who guid-est us to the Paradise of the West; in remembrance of thy Great Vow, I beseech thee receive me into the Pure Land." As she thus prayed, the daughter of Korezane and the nun Awa no Naiji, standing on either side of her couch, lifted up their voices in lamentation at their sad parting. As the sound of her prayer grew weaker and weaker, a purple cloud of splendor unknown grew visible in the west, and an unknown perfume of wondrous incense filled the cell, while celestial strains of music were heard from above. Thus, in the middle of the second month of 1213, the former Empress Kenreimon'in breathed her last.

TRANSLATED BY A. L. SADLER

Footnotes

1
He became the priest Rensei, as is related in the
N
ō
play "
Atsumori
."

2
This section has been considerably abbreviated.

3
White was the coler of the Genji, and red of the Heike.

4
The "Ten Virtues" was an adjective used of the Emperor, and meant someone not guilty of any of the ten sins (killing living beings, lying, obscene language, theft, adultery, cursing, being double-tongued, covetousness, anger, and foolishness). The Imperial Regalia, by which an emperor could prove his right to the throne, were the Sword, the Mirror, and the Jewels.

5
The Shinto god Hachiman (the god of war) was officially also considered a bodhisattva.

6
The
nembutsu
is an invocation to Amida Buddha practiced by members of the J
ō
do (Pure Land) sect.

7
Kenreimon'in was born in 1155.

8
A priestly sovereign (
h
ō
ō
) was an emperor who had abdicated and taken Buddhist orders. The sovereign in question was Goshirakawa (1127-1192).

9
A quotation from an unknown source.

10
Yen Yüan and Yüan Hsien were disciples of Confucius. The allusions here to Chinese and Japanese literature would be tedious to unravel.

11
The meeting between the former Empress and the Priesdy Sovereign, here omitted, consists almost entirely of a recounting, by the Empress, of the events of the past few months.

12
In J
ō
do Buddhism, the believer on his deathbed grasps a cord attached to a picture of the Buddha, and is supposed thus to be drawn into Paradise.

SHINKOKINSH
Ū

The "Shinkokinsh
Å«
," or "New Collection of Ancient and Modern Poems," was the eighth of the anthologies of Japanese poetry compiled by Imperial order. It was completed in 1205 by a committee headed by the celebrated Fujiwara no Teika (1162-1241), the leading figure in the world of letters of his day. The Emperor Gotoba,
1
who ordered the compilation, took an active interest in the "Shinkokinsh
Å«
" and worked on it while in exile on the island of Oki.

The "Shtnkokinsh
Å«
" is often considered to be the greatest Japanese collection after the "Man'y
ō
sh
Å«
." It is known particularly for the craftsmanship displayed by its poets, although this same quality has been denounced by some critics as "artificiality." The attempt of its poets was to fill the elegantly wrought framework of their verses with content as poignant and moving as possible. With such poets as Saigy
ō
(1118-1190) new heights in Japanese poetry were thereby reached. Needless to say, however, the technical perfection of the "Shinkokinsh
Å«
" poems is largely lost in translation.

Murasame no
The hanging raindrops
Tsuyu mo mada hinu
Have not dried from the needles
Maki no ha ni
Of the fir forest
Kiri tachinoboru
Before the evening mist
Aki no y
Å«
gure
Of autumn rises.
The Priest Jakuren (died 1202)
TRANSLATED BY KENNETH REXROTH

. .

Sayo chidori
The cries of the night
Koe kaso chikaka
Sanderlings draw closer
Narumi-gata
To Narumi Beach;
Katabuka tsuki ni
As the moon sinks in the sky
Shio ya mitsuramu
The tide rises to the full.
Sh
ō
sammi Sueyoshi

. .

Katami to te
Nothing whatsoever
Hono fumi wakeshi
Remains of you in this grass
Ato mo nashi
We once used to tread;
Kishi wa mukas hi no
How long ago it was we came—
Niwa no ogiwara
The garden now is a wilderness.
Fujiwara no Yasusue

. .

Hana wa chiri
The blossoms have fallen.
Sono tro to naka
I stare blankly at a world
Nagamureba
Bereft of color:
Munashiki sora ni
In the wide vacant sky
Harusame zo kuru
The spring rains are falling.
Princess Shikushi (died 1201)

. .

Hakanakute
When I tell over
Suginishi kata wo
The years of a past spent in
Kaz
ō
reba
Empty promises,
Hana ni mono omou
How many springs have gone by
Haru zo henikeru
Lamenting with the blossoms!
Princess Shikushi

. .

Omoiamari
When I stare off
Sonata no sora wo
At the far sky where you are,
Nagamureba
In excess of grief,
Kasumi wo wakete
Filtering through the mists
Harusame zo kuru
The spring rains are falling.
Fujiwara no Shunzei (1114-1204)

. .

Uchishimeri
The irises,
Ayame zo kaoru
Their petals damp, are fragrant.
Hototogisu
Listen! The cuckoos
Naku ya satsuki no
Are calling now, this rainy
Ame no y
Å«
gure
Evening in May.
Fujiwara no Yoshitsune (1169-1206)

. .

Ima komu to
He promised me then
Chigirishi koto wa
He would come to me at once—
Yume nagara
That was in a dream:
Mishi yo ni nitaru
And yet the moon at daybreak
Ariane no tsuki
Looked as it did the night we met.
Minamoto no Michitomo (1171-1227)

. .

Haru no yo no
When the floating bridge
Yume no ukihashi
Of the dream of a spring night
Todae shite
Was snapped, I awoke:
Mine ni wakaruru
In the sky a bank of clouds
Yokogumo no sora
Was drawing away from the peak.
Fujiwara no Teika

. .

Wasureji no
It will be hard
Yukusue made wa
To keep forever the vow
Katakereba
Never to forget—
Ky
ō
wo kagiri no
Would today could be the limit,
Inochi to mo gana
And with it see our lives expire!
The Mother of Gid
ō
Sanji

. .

Wasureji to
You said you would not
Iishi bakari no
Forget me—those were but words;
Nagori to te
All that still remains
Sono yo no tsuki wa
Is the moon which shone that night
Meguru kinikeri
And now has come again.
Fujiwara no Artie (1155-1216)

. .

Sabishisa wa
Loneliness does not
Sono iro to shi mo
Originate in any one
Nakarikeri
Particular thing:
Maki tatsu yama no
Evening in autumn over
Aki no y
Å«
gure
The black pines of the mountain.
The Priest Jamuren

. .

Kokoro naki
Even to someone
Mi ni mo aware wa
Free of passions
2
this sadness
Shirarekeri
Would be apparent:
Shigi tatsu sawa no
Evening in autumn over
Ahi no y
Å«
gure
A marsh where a snipe rises.
Saigy
ō

. .

Miwataseba
In this wide landscape
Hana mo momiji mo
I see no cherry blossoms
Nakarikeri
And no crimson leaves—
3
Ura no tomaya no
Evening in autumn over
Aki no y
Å«
gure
A straw-thatched hut by the bay.
Fujiwara no Teika

. .

Furuhata no
In a tree standing
Soba no tatsu hi ni
Beside a desolate field,
Iru hato no
The voice of a dove
Tomo yobu koe no
Calling to its companions—
Sugosiy
Å«
gure
Lonely, terrible evening.
Saigy
ō

. .

Toshi tacete
Did I ever dream
Mata koyubeshi to
I should pass this way again
Omoiki ya
As an old man?
Inochi narikeri
I have lived such a long time—
Sayo no Nakayama
Nakayama of the Night.
4
Saigy
ō

. .

Haruka naru
Living all alone
Iwa no hazama ni
In this space between the rocks
Hitori ite
Far from the city,
Hito me omowade
Here, where no one can see me,
Mono omowabaya
I shall give myself to grief.
Saigy
ō
Footnotes

1
See page 242.

2
Meaning here a monk.

3
Cherry blossoms and crimson leaves were the conventionally admired natural objects of spring and autumn respectively.

4
A place name famous in poetry; such common place names as Nakayama were often identified as here by some descriptive term. See also page 249.

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