by Donald Keene
For Tokubei's a customer from old.
Instead he asks, "How about some soup?"
And covering his confusion leaves the room.
Ohatsu lost in tears exclaims.
OHATSU: You're very clever, but I can't let you get away with it. I know everything about Tokubei. We've told each other all our inmost secrets ever since we became lovers years ago. He doesn't have the least particle of deceit in him—unfortunately for him. His generosity has been his undoing. He's been tricked by you, but he doesn't have the evidence to prove it. Now Tokubei has no choice but to die. I wish I could hear him say that he is resolved to die.
NARRATOR: She says these words as if but to herself,
Then questions with her foot: he nods his head,
And taking her ankle strokes his throat
To let her know that he is willed to die.
OHATSU: I knew it. I knew it. No matter how long one lives it comes to the same thing. Only death can wipe out the disgrace.
KUHEIJI: What's Ohatsu talking about? What's all this about Tokubei dying? Well, if he does die, I'll take good care of you after he's gone. I think you're really soft on me too!
OHATSU: You're most solicitous, I'm sure. If you bestow your favors on me, I'll kill you for your pains. Is that agreeable? Do you imagine that I could go on living even for a moment if I were separated from Tokubei? Kuheiji, you dirty thief! Nobody could hear your nonsense without being amazed. No matter what happens, I'm going to die with Tokubei. I shall die with him.
NARRATOR: She taps him with her foot; beneath the porch
He reverently takes it in his hands,
Then embracing her knees he weeps for love.
She too can scarcely keep her features calm,
And though no word is spoken, heart to heart
Answering each other they softly weep.
That no one knows makes it sadder still.
KUHEIJI: This place gives me the creeps. Let's get out of here. It's a funny thing how the whores here seem to dislike customers like us with lots of money to spend. Let's head for the Azaya and have a drink there. By the time we've tossed around a couple of gold pieces we'll be ready to go home to bed. Oh, my wallet is so heavy I can hardly walk!
NARRATOR: Thus spewing forth all manner of abuse
They noisily depart.
HOST (to the servants): It's time already to put out the lights. Lay out beds for the guests who are spending the night. Ohatsu, you sleep upstairs. Get to bed early.
OHATSU: Master, Mistress. I shall probably never see you again. Fare well to you both. And farewell to you too, all of you who work here.
NARRATOR: Thus lightly taking leave she goes to bed.
They fail to mark her words and only later know
That this was her farewell to them for life.
The foolishness of men is sad indeed.
HOST: Look after the fire under the kettle. Don't let the mice get at the relishes.
NARRATOR: They shut the place for the night and bar the gate,
Then soon asleep are snoring merrily.
So short the night, before they'd time to dream
The second hour of the morning comes.
Ohatsu dressed for death in robes of spotless white
And black kimono dark as are the ways of love,
Tiptoes to the staircase and looks below.
Tokubei appears from underneath the house,
Beckons, nods, and points, speaking with his heart.
Below the stairs a servant girl is sleeping;
A hanging lantern brightly lights the room.
Ohatsu, wondering how to escape,
Attaches to a palm-leaf broom her fan,
And from the second step of the staircase
Attempts in vain to blow away the flame.
At last by stretching every inch she puts it out,
But tumbles from the stairs with a crash.
The lamp is out and in the darkness
The servant girl turns over in her sleep.
Trembling, they grope for each other.
The host awakens in his private chamber.
HOST: What was that noise just now? Servants! The night lamp has gone out. Get up and light it!
NARRATOR: The servant sleepily rubbing her eyes
Gets up from bed stark naked.
SERVANT: I can't find the flint box.
NARRATOR: While she wanders about searching for it,
Ohatsu dodges back and forth avoiding her,
And in the nightmare darkness gropes for Tokubei.
At last they catch each other's hands
And softly creep out to the entranceway.
The latch is open, but the hinges creek,
And frightened by the noise they hesitate.
Just then the maid begins to strike the flints;
They time their actions to the rasping sound,
And with each rasp the door is opened more,
Until, sleeves twisted round them through they push,
And one after the other pass outside,
As though they tread upon a tiger's tail.
Exchanging glances then, they cry for joy,
Rejoicing that they are to go to death.
The life left to them now is just as brief
As sparks that fly from blocks of flint.
Scene III: The Journey
NARRATOR: Farewell to the world, and to the night farewell.
We who walk the road to death, to what should we be likened?
To the frost by the road that leads to the graveyard,
Vanishing with each step ahead:
This dream of a dream is sorrowful.
Ah, did you count the bell? Of the seven strokes
That mark the dawn six have sounded.
The remaining one will be the last echo
We shall hear in this life. It will echo
The bliss of annihilation.
Farewell, and not to the bell alone,
We look a last time on the grass, the trees, the sky,
The clouds go by unmindful of us,
The bright Dipper is reflected in the water,
The Wife and Husband Stars inside the Milky Way.6
TOKUBEI : Let's think the Bridge of Umeda
The bridge the magpies built and make a vow
That we will always be Wife and Husband Stars.
NARRATOR: "With all my heart," she says and clings to him:
So many are the tears that fall between the two,
The waters of the river must have risen.
On a teahouse balcony across the way
A party in the lamplight loudly discuss
Before they go to bed the latest gossip,
With many words about the good and bad
Of this year's crop of lovers' suicides.
TOKUBEI: How strange! but yesterday, even today,
We spoke as if such things didn't concern us.
Tomorrow we shall figure in their gossip—
Well, if they wish to sing about us, let them.
NARRATOR: This is the song that now we hear:
"Why can't you take me for your wife?
Although you think you don't want me . . ."7
However we think, however lament,
Both our fate and the world go against us.
Never before today was there a day
Of relaxation, and untroubled night,
Instead, the tortures of an ill-starred love.
"What did I do to deserve it?
I never can forget you.
You want to shake me off and go?
I'll never let you.
Take me with your hands and kill me
Or I'll never let you go,"
Said the girl in tears.
TOKUBEI : Of all the many songs, that it should be that one,
This very evening, but who is it that sings?
We are those who listen; others like us
Who've gone this way have had the same ordeal
.
NARRATOR: They cling to one another, weeping bitterly,
And wish, as many a lover has wished,
The night would last even a little longer.
The heartless summer night is short as ever,
And soon the cockcrows chase away their lives.
TOKUBEI : Let us die in the wood before the dawn.
NARRATOR: He takes her hands.
At Umeda Embankment, the night ravens.
TOKUBEI: Tomorrow our bodies may be their meal.
OHATSU : It's strange this year is your unlucky year8
Of twenty-five, and mine of nineteen too.
That we who love should both be cursed this way
Is proof how close the ties that join us.
All the prayers that I have made for this world
To the gods and to the Buddha, I here and now
Direct to the future, and in the world to come,
May we remain together on one lotus.9
NARRATOR: One hundred eight the beads her fingers tell
On her rosary; her tears increase the sum.
No end to her grief, but the road has an end.
Their heart and the sky are dark, the wind intense:
They have reached the wood of Sonezaki.
Shall it be there, shall it be here?
And when they brush the grass the dew which falls
Vanishes even quicker than their lives,
In this uncertain world a lightning flash—
A lightning flash or was it something else?
OHATSU : Oh, I'm afraid. What was that just now?
TOKUBEI: Those were human spirits. I thought that we'd be the only ones to die tonight, but others have gone ahead of us. Whoever they may be, we'll journey together to the Mountain of Death. Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu.10
OHATSU: How sad it is! Other souls have left the world. Namu Amida Butsu.
NARRATOR: The woman melts in helpless tears of grief.
OHATSU: Tothink that other people are dying tonight too! That makes me feel wretched.
NARRATOR: Man that he is, his tears are falling freely.
TOKUBEI: Those two spirits flying together over there—they can't be anyone else's! They must be ours, yours and mine!
OHATSU: Those two spirits? Are we already dead then?
TOKUBEI : Ordinarily, if we were to see a spirit we'd knot our clothes and howl to save our lives,11 but now instead we are hurrying toward our last moments, and soon are to live in the same place with them. You mustn't lose the way or mistake the road of death!
NARRATOR: They cling to each other, flesh against flesh,
Then fall with a cry to the ground and weep.
Their strings of tears unite like grafted branches,
Or a pine and palm that grow from a single trunk.
And now, where will they end their dew-like lives?
TOKUBEI: This place will do.
NARRATOR: The sash of his jacket he undoes;
Ohatsu removes her tear-stained outer robe,
And throws it on the palm tree with whose fronds
She now might sweep away the sad world's dust.
Ohatsu takes a razor from her sleeve.
OHATSU: I had this razor ready just in case we were overtaken on the way or got separated. I made up my mind that whatever might happen I would not give up our plan. Oh, how happy I am that we are to die together as we had hoped!
TOKUBEI: You make me feel so confident in our love that I am not worried even by the thought of death. And yet it would be a pity if because of the pain that we are to suffer, people said that we looked ugly in death. Wouldn't it be a good idea if we fastened our bodies to this twin-trunked tree and died immaculately? Let us become an unparalleled example of a beautiful way of dying.
OHATSU: Yes, as you say.
NARRATOR: Alas! she little thought she thus would use
Her sash of powder blue. She draws it taut,
And with her razor slashes it in two.
OHATSU : My sash is divided, but you and I will never part.
NARRATOR: Face to face they sit, then twice or thrice
He ties her firmly so she will not move.
TOKUBEI: Is it tight?
OHATSU: Yes, it's very tight.
NARRATOR: She looks at him, he looks at her, they burst into tears.
BOTH: This is the end of our unfortunate lives!
TOKUBEI: No, I mustn't weep.
NARRATOR: He raises his head and joins his hands.
TOKUBEI: When I was a small child my parents died, and it was my uncle who brought me up. I'm ashamed of myself that I am dying this way without repaying my indebtedness to him, and that I am causing him trouble that will last after my death. Please forgive me my sins.
Now soon I shall be seeing my parents in the other world. Father, Mother, come welcome me there!
NARRATOR: Ohatsu also joins her hands in prayer.
OHATSU: I envy you that you will be meeting your parents in the world of the dead. My father and mother are still alive. I wonder when I shall meet them again. I had a letter from them this spring, but the last time I saw them was at the beginning of autumn last year. When they get word tomorrow in the village of my suicide, how unhappy they will be. Mother, Father, brothers and sisters, I now say good-bye to the world. If only my thoughts can reach you, I pray that I may be able to appear in your dreams. Dearest Mother, beloved Father!
NARRATOR: She weeps convulsively and wails aloud.
Her lover also sheds incessant tears,
And cries out in despair, as is most natural.
OHATSU: There's no use in talking any longer. Kill me, kill me quickly!
NARRATOR: She hastens the moment of death.
TOKUBEI: I'm ready.
NARRATOR: He swiftly draws out his dagger.
TOKUBEI: The moment has come. Namu Amida. Namu Amida.
NARRATOR: But when he tries to bring the blade against the skin
Of the woman he's loved, and held, and slept with
So many months and years, his hands begin to shake,
His eyes cloud over. He attempts to stay
His weakening resolve, but still he trembles,
And when he makes a thrust the point goes off,
Deflecting twice or thrice with flashing blade,
Until a cry tells it has reached her throat.
TOKUBEI: Namu Amida. Namu Amida. Namu Amida Butsu.
NARRATOR: He presses the blade ever deeper
And when he sees her weaken he falters too.
He stretches forth his arms—of all the pains
That life affords, none is as great as this.
TOKUBEI: Am I going to lag on after you? Let's draw our last breaths together.
NARRATOR: He thrusts and twists the razor in his throat
Until it seems the handle or the blade must snap.
His eyes grow dim, and his last painful breath
With the dawn's receding tide is drawn away.12
But the wind that blows through Sonezaki Wood
Transmits it, and high and low alike,
Gather to pray for them who beyond a doubt
Will in the future attain to Buddhahood.
They thus become a model of true love.
TRANSLATED BY DONALD KEEN E
Footnotes
1 A street in Osaka famed for its theatres and houses of pleasure.
2 The word shijimi means a kind of small shellfish, and the name of the river should be understood in that sense here and at the beginning of Scene II.
3 A mountain and a river in the Japanese afterworld.
4 A passage from the Nō play "Miidera," here quoted mainly because the first word, "Hatsuse," echoes the name Ohatsu in the preceding line. Most of this passage would be sung not by one chanter but by a chorus, as in the Nō play.
5 Umeda Bridge, the name of which means "plum field."
6 A Chinese legend, widespread also in Japan, tells how these two stars (also called the
Herd Boy and the Weaver Girl) meet once a year on a bridge built by magpies in the sky.
7 This is a popular ballad of the time describing a love suicide.
8 In the yin-yang system a man's twenty-fifth, forty-second, and sixtieth years were dangerous; for a woman her nineteenth and thirty-third years.
9 In the Buddhist paradise people are born again on lotuses.
10 An invocation to Amida Buddha used in Jōdo and Shin Buddhism.
11 A type of exorcism practiced against spirits.
12 It was believed that the spirit left the body as the tide went out.
A WAYWARD WIFE
[Sekem Musume Kataki, I, 2] by Ejima Kiseki
Ejima Kiseki (1667-1756) as a novelist was clearly in the tradition of Saikaku, and numerous echoes if not actual imitations of the earlier writer may be found in Kiseki's worlds. However, his "character-books" (katakimono) have a charm and humor of their own, and have enjoyed deserved popularity. The following tale is from his "Characters of Worldly Young Women" (1716), one of Kisemi's most famous works.
"Obviously morning-glories are best at morning," declares the mistress, "not to say how much cooler it is." And so that night she leaves orders to fill tiers of lacquer boxes with savory rice and a variety of tidbits, prepared exactly to her taste, to arrange several chairs at a back hedge as far as possible from the house, and to lay a floral carpet. "Cedar picks for the food, a gold lacquer tray ... be sure to use that exquisite tea from Toganoo! Have the bath ready before six. As to my hair, you may do it in three folds, and please take out a sheer gown with wide sleeves and a pink lining—the sash ought to be dark gray satin, the undersash pale but speckled with huge dots. It must all seem quite perfect: you know how the neighbors stare. So put the maids in fresh summer kimonos, won't you? And do send a sedan chair to Kama no za for my sister, at the usual time." After issuing a bewildering set of instructions to her housekeeper, who has long had charge of kitchen affairs, she retires to lie at ease in the shelter of an ample mosquito net; and tiny bells tinkle at its corners as the servants fan her, by turns, till she drops off to sleep.
Such are her airs merely to look at flowers in her own garden.