Anthology of Japanese Literature (35 page)

BOOK: Anthology of Japanese Literature
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TAR
Ō
: I was joking again. Now smash this bowl.

JIR
Ō
: No, I've had enough.

TAR
Ō
: Then let's smash it together.

JIR
Ō
: All right.

  
(
They go to the Facing Pillar and make motions of picking up a large bowl and dashing it to the ground
.)

TOGETHER:
Gar ari chin.

TAR
Ō
: Ah—it's in bits.

JIR
Ō
: Now what excuse will we make?

TAR
Ō
: When the master returns, the first thing to do is to burst into tears.

JIR
Ō
: Will tears do any good?

TAR
Ō
: They will indeed. He'll be coming back soon. Come over here.

JIR
Ō
: Very well.

  
(
They go to the back of stage and sit there. The Master stands up and speaks at the First Pine
.)

MASTER
: I have completed my business now. I imagine that my servants must be waiting for my return. I shall hasten home. Ah, here I am already. Tar
ō
kaja, Jir
ō
kaja, I've returned!
(
He goes to the Wafa's Pillar
.)

TAR
Ō
: He's back I Now start weeping!
(
They weep
.)

MASTER
: Tar
ō
kaja, Jir
ō
kaja! Where are you? What is the matter here? Instead of being glad that I have returned they are both weeping. If something has happened, let me know at once.

TAR
Ō
: Jir
ō
kaja, you tell the master.

JIR
Ō
: Tar
ō
kaja, you tell the master.

MASTCR
: Whichever of you it is, tell me quickly.

TAR
Ō
: Well, then, this is what happened. I thought that it wouldn't do for me to sleep while on such important duty, but I got sleepier and sleepier. To keep me awake I had a wresding match with Jir
ō
kaja. He is so strong that he knocked me over, and to keep from falling, I clutched at that
kakamono,
and ripped it as you can see.

MASTER
: What a dreadful thing to happen!
(
He loo ka at the Waka's Pillar in amazement
.) How could you tear up a precious
kakamono
that way?

TAR
Ō
: Then he threw me back and spun me over the stand with the bowl on it, and the bowl was smashed to bits.

MASTER
: What a dreadful thing!
(
He loofa at the Facing Pillar in amazement
.) You even smashed my precious bowl. What I am going to do?

TAR
Ō
: Knowing that you would soon return, we thought that we could not go on living, so we ate up the
busu,
hoping thus to die. Isn't that so, Jiro kaja?

JIR
Ō
: Exactly.

TAR
Ō
(
singing
): One mouthful and still death did not come,

JIR
Ō
(
singing
): Two mouthfuls and still death did not come.

TAR
Ō
(
singing
): Three mouthfuls, four mouthfuls

JIR
Ō
(
singing
): Five mouthfuls

TAR
Ō
(
singing
): More than ten mouthfuls
(
They get up and begin to dance
.)

TOGETHER:
(
singing
): We ate until there wasn't any left,
But still death came not, strange to tell,
Ah, what a clever head!

    (
They approach the Master while fanning, then suddenly stride him on the head with their fans. They run off laughing
.)

MASTER
: What do you mean "clever head"? You brazen things! Where are you going? Catch them! You won't get away with it!
(
He runs after them to Bridge
.)

TOGETHER
: Forgive us! Forgive us!

TRANSLATED BY DONALD KEENS

Footnote

1
A picture or writing on silk or paper.

POEMS IN CHINESE BY BUDDHIST MONKS

When the Japanese Zen priest Mugaku Sogen (1226-1286) was in China and threatened by invading Mongol troops, he composed a four-line poem. Years later another Zen priest, Sesson Y
Å«
bai (1290-1347). when he was in prison and threatened with death, took Mugaku's poem and, using each line as the opening verse of a new poem, composed the following:

Through all Heaven and Earth, no ground to plant my single staff;

Yet is there a place to hide this body where no trace may be found.

At midnight will the wooden man mount his steed of stone

To crash down ten thousand walls of encircling iron.

In the nothingness of man I delight, and of all being,

A thousand worlds complete in my little cage.

I forget sin, demolish my heart, and in enlightenment rejoice;

Who tells me that the fallen suffer in Hell's bonds?

Awful is the three-foot sword of the Great Yüan,
1

Sparkling with cold frost over ten thousand miles.

Though the skull be dry, these eyes shall see again.

Flawless is my white gem, priceless as a kingdom.

Like lightning it flashes through the shadows, severing the spring wind;

The God of Nothingness bleeds crimson, streaming.

I tremble at the soaring heights of Mount Sumera;
2

I will dive, I will leap into the stem of the lotus.

Sesson Y
Å«
bai

Song of idleness

I lay sick by the low window, propped on a crooked bed,

And thought how orderly the universe is.

A white bird flew across the dark sky;

And my mind rolled forth ten thousand feet.

Kokan (1278-1346)

To a monk departing on a trading mission to China

Judge for yourself if the weather be hot or cold;

A fellow must not be cheated by others.

And see that you take not Japan's good gold

And barter it off for Chinese brass!

Daichi (1290-1366)

To a Korean friend

The old man of the village suddenly called us back

To drink three cups beneath the crooked mulberry.

Mankind is small but this drunkenness wide and great—

Where now is Japan, where your Korea?

Mugan (died 1374)

Mountain temple

I have locked the gate on a thousand peaks

To live here with clouds and birds.

All day I watch the hills

As clear winds fill the bamboo door.

A supper of pine flowers,

Monk's robes of chestnut dye—

What dream does the world hold

To lure me from these dark slopes?

Zekkai (1336-1405)
TRANSLATED BY BURTON WATSON

Footnotes

1
Yüan was the name taken by the Mongols for their dynasty.

2
The central mountain of the Buddhist universe.

THREE POETS AT MINASE

[
Minase Sangin
]

In the first moon of 1488 three of the greatest masters of linked-verse, S
ō
gi (1421-1502), Sh
ō
haku (1443-1527), and S
ō
ch
ō
(1448-1532) met at Minase, a village between Kyoto and Osaka. As part of an observance at the shrine, which stood on the site of the Minase Palace of the Emperor Gotoba, they composed one hundred verses, of which fifty are here translated.

The art of linked-verse was an extremely demanding one. Generally three or more poets took part, composing alternate verses of 7, 5, 7 syllables and 7, 7 syllables. Many rules had to be observed exactly: for example, if spring or autumn were mentioned in one verse, the following two to four verses also had to mention it. However, it was not necessary that the actual words "spring" or "autumn" be used; many natural phenomena, such as mist, blossoms, or singing birds, stood for spring, while others, such as fog, the moon, or chirping crickets, stood for autumn.

Beyond the technical difficulties imposed by the rules of linked-verse were the major consideration of peeping the level so high that it would not run the risk of resembling a mere game, and the problem of making each "link" fit smoothly into the chain. Any three links taken from a sequence should produce two complete poems. Thus:

Except for you
Except for you
Whom could I ever love,
Whom could I ever love
Never surfeiting?
Never surfeiting?
Nothing remotely suggests
Nothing remotely suggests
The charms of her appearance.
The charms of her appearance.
Nothing remotely suggests
Even plants and trees
The charms of its appearance.
Share in the bitter grief of
Even plants and trees
The ancient capital.
Share in the bitter grief of
The ancient capital.

Here we have two poems of entirely different meaning linked together: the first concerns a lover's delight in his mistress, the second the grief of the poet over the destruction of the capital. This kind of multiple stream of consciousness is a uniquely Japanese literary development, and was fostered in part by the ambiguity of the Japanese language, which permits many varieties of word play and is extremely free in the use of pronouns.

TEXT
COMMENTARY
Snow yet remaining
Early spring (mist). Allusion: "When I look far out, the mountain slopes are misty. Minase River—why did I think that only in autumn the nights could be lovely?"
(by Emperor Gotoba).
The mountain slopes are misty—
An evening in spring.
S
ō
gi
Far away the water flows
Spring (plum blossoms). Description continued. Water.
Past the plum-scented village.
Sh
ō
hakkt
In the river breeze
Spring. Description continued, far scenery. Water.
The willow trees are clustered.
Spring is appearing.
S
ō
ch
ō
The sound of a boat being poled
Water. Dawn. Near scenery.
Clear in the clear morning light.
S
ō
gi
The moont does it still
Autumn (moon). Dawn.
Over fog-enshrouded fields
Linger in the sky?
Sh
ō
haku
Meadows carpeted in frost—
Autumn.
Autumn has drawn to a close.
S
ō
ch
ō
Heedless of the wishes
Late autumn. The insects wish that the winter would not come.
Of piping insects,
The grasses wither.
S
ō
gi
When I visited my friend,
Late autumn. The grasses have withered, exposing the path.
How bare the path to his gate!
Sh
ō
haku
Remote villages—
Late autumn. Villages so remote that winter has yet to reach them.
Have the storms still to reach you
Deep in the mountains?
S
ō
cho
ō
In unfamiliar dwellings
Emotional verse leading from loneliness of remote villages.
Is loneliness and sorrow
S
ō
gi
Now is not the time
Buddhist rebuke (or consolation?) for emotion expressed.
To be thinking of yourself
As one all alone.
Sh
ō
haku
Did you not know beforehand
Impermanence. Buddhist sentiment continued.
That all things must fade away?
S
ō
ch
ō
The dew grieves for its
Impermanence. The dew is shorter-lived even than the flower it clings to. Parable for man and the things of beauty in the world. Spring.
Early passing and grieves for
The flower that stays.
S
ō
gi
During the misted darkness
Spring (mist). Evening.
Of the last rays of the sun.
Sh
ō
haku
The day has ended.
Spring (birds). Evening.
Joyously singing, the birds
Return to their nest.
S
ō
ch
ō
I walk deep in dark mountains,
Evening. Travel.
Not even the sky my guide.
S
ō
gi
Although it has cleared
Travel. The sleeves are wet not only with rain but with tears caused by his lonely journey.
My sleeves are soaked with showers—
This traveling cloak.
Sh
ō
haku
The light of the moon reveals
Travel. "Pillow of grass" denotes a journey. The traveler with tear-wet sleeves is disclosed by the moon. Night. Autumn (moon).
My wretched pillow of grass.
S
ō
ch
ō
Many are the vain
Night. Autumn. Love (lying awake at night).
Nights unvisited by sleep
As autumn deepens.
S
ō
gi
In dreams I quarreled with her;
Night. Autumn (reeds). In his dream he quarrels with his beloved, and wakens to hear the wind. Love.
A wind was stirring the reeds.
Sh
ō
haku
I looked—all were gone,
Dream. When he awakens (like Rip van Winkle) his friends are all dead. May also refer to women he loved. Love. Old age.
The friends I loved at home,
Vanished without a trace
S
ō
ch
ō
Years of old age before me,
Old age—friends are gone.
What is there on which to lean?
S
ō
gi
Faded though they are,
The poems of an old man.
At least I still have my songs—
Take pity on them!
Sh
ō
haku
They too make good companions
Loneliness relieved by poetry.
When the sky is at twilight.
S
ō
gi
Today in clouds
Spring (blossoms). What he thought were "clouds of cherry blossoms" were only clouds. Link: sky-clouds. Clouds may be companions.
I crossed the peak and found
The blossoms scattered.
S
ō
ch
ō
Listen! did you hear the cries
Spring. Link: geese flying over peak.
Of the wild geese of spring?
Sh
ō
haku
How bright the moon is
Spring (hazy moon). Link: Geese flying under moon, familiar subject of painting. Enjoins him not to fall asleep when the moon is so lovely (not the usual hazy spring moon).
Without the haze—drowsy one,
Wait, just a little.
S
ō
gi
Lying in dew, on my way,
Autumn (moon of previous verse taken in different sense). Link: moon-daybreak.
I see an autumn daybreak.
S
ō
ch
ō
Over the villages,
Autumn (fog). Description continued.
Far off, beyond the last field,
The fog is settling.
Sh
ō
haku
There comes with the blowing wind
Autumn (cloth-beating). The sound emerges from the fog.
The sound of cloth-beaters' mallets.
S
ō
gi
Even freezing days
A lonely, poverty-stricken scene. Link: cloth-garments.
In the evening find me
In thinnest garments.
S
ō
ch
ō
How forlorn a way to live—
Poverty. A humble woodcutter.
The mountains where I gather brush.
Sh
ō
haku
"Yet there may be hope,"
Poverty. Despair.
I thought, but this way of life
Has come to an end.
S
ō
gi
Ah, the misery of it!
Poverty. Despair.
Whither now shall I turn?
S
ō
ch
ō
Parting after bliss,
The misery of poverty shifts to the misery of separation after making love. Love.
Resolved to wait as long
As life is left me.
Sh
ō
haku
Still it lasts—what does it mean?
Love. Separation.
This longing I feel for her.
S
ō
gi
Except for you
Love.
Whom could I ever love,
Never surfeiting?
S
ō
ch
ō
Nothing remotely suggests
Love.
The charms of her appearance.
Sh
ō
haku
Even plants and trees
Link: the beloved's appearance shifts to the appearance of Kyoto before the disastrous
Ō
nin Rebellion which devastated the city (1467-1477).
Share in the bitter grief
Of the ancient capital.
S
ō
gi
The sad house where once I lived
Destruction caused by the rebellion.
Is now but a remembrance.
S
ō
ch
ō
Let this keepsake
Death brought about by rebellion.
Of a mother not long dead
Bring consolation.
Sh
ō
haku
In the months and days to come
In time to come he will only be able to see his mother in dreams.
I'll see her perhaps in dreams.
S
ō
gi
Sailing for China,
Even if he goes to China he will see her in his dreams.
I will take a final leave—
Farewell to these shores.
S
ō
ch
ō
Let us hearken to the Law
"These shores" interpreted as the mortal world, as opposed to the "other shores" of Paradise. The Buddhist Law.
We come not to this world again.
Sh
ō
haiku
Till we two could meet
Meeting with Buddha in Paradise shifts to meeting a woman. Love. Autumn (tears, literally "dew").
How frequently did love's tears
Fall and melt away.
S
ō
gi
Ah, it was the autumn wind,
Autumn. There is a pun imbedded meaning "weary of myself."
Not she I was waiting for.
S
ō
ch
ō
A pine-cricket
Autumn (pine-cricket). It chirps in vain because she does not hear it. The house is deserted.
All in vain is chirping now,
In my weed-grown house.
Sh
ō
haku
On the mountain I staked out
Autumn (moon). Links to loneliness of preceding verse. Pun: "shines clear" for "lodges."
Now lodges only the moon.
S
ō
gi
I awake from sleep
His plans for the future are interrupted.
To the tolling of the bell,
My dreams unfinished.
S
ō
ch
ō
I have piled upon my brow
With age his hair turns white, as he remembers as he lies awake at night.
The frosts of night after night.
Sh
ō
haku

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