Anthology of Japanese Literature Read online

  JIRŌ: I wonder why.

  TARŌ: At any rate, it's always lonesome being left here by oneself, but since we are both here today, we can have a pleasant talk.—Oh!

  JIRŌ: What is the matter?

  TARŌ: There was a gust of wind from the busuk

  JIRŌ: How frightening!

  TARŌ: Let's move a litde farther away.

  JIRŌ: A good idea.

  (They hastily move toward Bridge, then sit.)

  TARŌ: Just as you said before, why should the master keep in the house a thing so deadly that even a breath of wind from it will cause instant death?

  JIRŌ : However much it may love its master, I still don't understand why he keeps it.

  TARŌ: You know, I'd like to have a look at the busu. What do you think it can be?

  JIRŌ: Have you gone mad? Don't you know that even the wind from its way means certain death?

  TARŌ: Let's go up to it fanning from this side. In that way we won't get any wind from it.

  JIRŌ: That's a good idea.

  (The two men stand, and fanning vigorously approach the cask.)

  TARŌ: Fan, fan hard.

  JIRŌ: I am fanning.

  TARŌ: I'm going to untie the cord around it now, so fan hard.

  JIRŌ: Right!

  TARŌ: I've unfastened it. Now, I'll take off the cover.

  JIRŌ: Do it quickly!

  TARŌ: Keep fanning!

  JIRŌ: I am fanning.

  TARŌ: It's off! (They flee to the Bridge.) Oh, that's a relief!

  JIRŌ: What's a relief?

  TARŌ: That thing—it's not an animal or it would jump out.

  JIRŌ: Perhaps it is only playing dead.

  TARŌ: I'll have a look.

  JIRŌ: That's a good idea.

  (They approach the cask as before.)

  TARŌ: Fan, fan hard!

  JIRŌ: I am fanning!

  TARŌ: Now I'm going to have a look, so fan hard!

  JIRŌ: Right!

  TARŌ: I've seen it! I've seen it! (They flee as before to the Bridge.)

  JIRŌ: What did you see?

  TARŌ: Something dark gray that looked good to eat You know, I think I'd like a taste of that busu.

  JIRŌ: How can you think of eating something which will kill you even if you only catch a whiff of it?

  TARŌ: I must be bewitched by the busu. I can't think of anything but eating it. I will have a taste.

  JIRŌ: You mustn't.

  (He talles Tarō's sleeve, and they struggle.)

  TARŌ: Let me go!

  JIRŌ: I won't let you go!

  TARŌ: I tell you, let me go!

  JIRŌ: I tell you, I won't let you go!

  (Tarō frees himself and approaches the cask. He uses his fan to scoop out the contents.)

  TARŌ (singing): Shaking off with sorrow the sleeves of parting, I come up to the side of the busu.

  JIRŌ: Alas! Now he will meet his death.

  TARŌ: Oh, I am dying. I am dying. (He falls over.)

  JIRŌ: I knew it would happen. Tarō kaja! What is it? (He rushes to him.)

  TARŌ: It's so delicious, I'm dying. (He gets up.)

  JIRŌ: What can it be?

  TARŌ: It's sugar!

  JIRŌ: Let me have a taste.

  TARŌ: Go ahead.

  JIRŌ: Thank you. It really is sugar!

  (The two of them eat, using their fans to scoop out the busu. Tarō, seeing that Jirō is too busy eating to notice, carries off the cask to the Waki's Pillar. While he is eating, Jirō comes up and takes the cask to the Pacing Pillar.)

  TARŌ: You mustn't eat it all by yourself. Let me have it!

  JIRŌ: No, you were eating before I did. Give me some more.

  TARŌ: Let's both eat it.

  JIRŌ: A good idea.

  (They put the cask between them.)

  TARŌ: Delicious, isn't it?

  JIRŌ: Really delicious.

  TARŌ: The master told us that it was busu, thinking we wouldn't eat it then. That was really most disagreeable of him. Eat up! Eat up!

  JIRŌ: It was disagreeable of him to have told us that we would die instantly if we got so much as a whiff of it. Eat up! Eat up!

  TARŌ: I can't stop eating.

  JIRŌ: It feds as if our chins are sagging, doesn't it?

  TARŌ: Eat up! Oh, it's all gone!

  JIRŌ: Yes, all gone.

  TARŌ: Well, you can be proud of yourself.

  JIRŌ: I can be proud of myself? It was you who first looked at the busu and first ate it. I'll tell the master as soon as he gets back.

  TARŌ: I was only joking. Now, tear up this kakemono.1

  JIRŌ: Very well.

  (He goes to the Want's Pillar and makes motions of tearing a kakemono.)

  Sarari. Sarari. Pattari.

  TARŌ: Bravo! First you looked at the busu, then you ate it, and now you've torn up the master's kakemono. I'll inform him of that as soon as he returns.

  JIRŌ: I only did it because you told me. And I shall inform the master of that.

  TARŌ: I was joking again. Now smash this bowl.

  JIRŌ: No, I've had enough.

  TARŌ: Then let's smash it together.

  JIRŌ: 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.

  TARŌ: Ah—it's in bits.

  JIRŌ: Now what excuse will we make?

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

  JIRŌ: Will tears do any good?

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

  JIRŌ: 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. Tarō kaja, Jirō kaja, I've returned!

  (He goes to the Wafa's Pillar.)

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

  MASTER: Tarō kaja, Jirō 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.

  TARŌ: Jirō kaja, you tell the master.

  JIRŌ: Tarō kaja, you tell the master.

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

  TARŌ: 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 Jirō 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?

  TARŌ: 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?

  TARŌ: 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?

  JIRŌ: Exactly.

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

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

  TARŌ (singing): Three mouthfuls, four mouthfuls

  JIRŌ (singing): Five mouthfuls

  TARŌ (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 Yūbai (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 Yūbai

  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, Sōgi (1421-1502), Shōhaku (1443-1527), and Sōchō (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.

  Sōgi

  Far away the water flows Spring (plum blossoms). Description continued. Water.

  Past the plum-scented village.

  Shōhakkt

  In the river breeze Spring. Description continued, far scenery. Water.

  The willow trees are clustered.

  Spring is appearing.

  Sōchō

  The sound of a boat being poled Water. Dawn. Near scenery.

  Clear in the clear morning light.

  Sōgi

  The moont does it still Autumn (moon). Dawn.

  Over fog-enshrouded fields

  Linger in the sky?

  Shōhaku

  Meadows carpeted in frost— Autumn.

  Autumn has drawn to a close.

  Sōchō

  Heedless of the wishes Late autumn. The insects wish that the winter would not come.

  Of piping insects,

  The grasses wither.

  Sōgi

  When I visited my friend, Late autumn. The grasses have withered, exposing the path.

  How bare the path to his gate!

  Shōhaku

  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?

  Sōchoō

  In unfamiliar dwellings Emotional verse leading from loneliness of remote villages.

  Is loneliness and sorrow

  Sōgi

  Now is not the time Buddhist rebuke (or consolation?) for emotion expressed.

  To be thinking of yourself

  As one all alone.

  Shōhaku

  Did you not know beforehand Impermanence. Buddhist sentiment continued.

  That all things must fade away?

  Sōchō

  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.

  Sōgi

  During the misted darkness Spring (mist). Evening.

  Of the
last rays of the sun.

  Shōhaku

  The day has ended. Spring (birds). Evening.

  Joyously singing, the birds

  Return to their nest.

  Sōchō

  I walk deep in dark mountains, Evening. Travel.

  Not even the sky my guide.

  Sōgi

  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.

  Shōhaku

  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.

  Sōchō

  Many are the vain Night. Autumn. Love (lying awake at night).

  Nights unvisited by sleep

  As autumn deepens.

  Sōgi

  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.

  Shōhaku

  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

  Sōchō

  Years of old age before me, Old age—friends are gone.

  What is there on which to lean?

  Sōgi

  Faded though they are, The poems of an old man.

  At least I still have my songs—

  Take pity on them!

  Shōhaku

  They too make good companions Loneliness relieved by poetry.

  When the sky is at twilight.

  Sōgi

  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.

  Sōchō

  Listen! did you hear the cries Spring. Link: geese flying over peak.

  Of the wild geese of spring?

  Shōhaku

  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).