ATSUMORI

PERSONS

THE PRIEST RENSEI (formerly the warrior Kumagai).
A YOUNG REAPER, who turns out to be the ghost of Atsumori.
HIS COMPANION.
CHORUS.

Life is a lying dream, he only wakes
Who casts the World aside.

To the music of the reaper's flute
No song is sung
But the sighing of wind in the fields.

They that were reaping,
Reaping on that hill,p. 37
Walk now through the fields
Homeward, for it is dusk.

Short is the way that leads 1
From the sea of Suma back to my home.
This little journey, up to the hill
And down to the shore again, and up to the hill,--
This is my life, and the sum of hateful tasks.
If one should ask me
I too 2 would answer
That on the shores of Suma
I live in sadness.
Yet if any guessed my name,
Then might I too have friends.
But now from my deep misery
Even those that were dearest
Are grown estranged. Here must I dwell abandoned
To one thought's anguish:
That I must dwell here.

Hey, you reapers! I have a question to ask you.

Is it to us you are speaking? What do you wish to know?

Was it one of you who was playing on the flute just now?

Yes, it was we who were playing.

It was a pleasant sound, and all the pleasanter because one does not look for such music from men of your condition.

Unlocked for from men of our condition, you say! Have you not read:--

"Do not envy what is above you
Nor despise what is below you"?
Moreover the songs of woodmen and the flute-playing of herdsmen,
Flute-playing even of reapers and songs of wood-fellers
Through poets' verses are known to all the world.
Wonder not to hear among us
The sound of a bamboo-flute.

You are right. Indeed it is as you have told me.
Songs of woodmen and flute-playing of herdsmen . . .

Songs of wood-fellers

Guide us on our passage through this sad world.

Song . . .

And dance

And the flute . . .

And music of many instruments . . .

These are the pastimes that each chooses to his taste.
Of floating bamboo-wood
Many are the famous flutes that have been made;
Little-Branch and Cicada-Cage,
And as for the reaper's flute,
Its name is Green-leaf;
On the shore of Sumiyoshi
The Corean flute they play.p. 39
And here on the shore of Suma
On Stick of the Salt-kilns
The fishers blow their tune.

How strange it is! The other reapers have all gone home, but you alone stay loitering here. How is that?

How is it, you ask? I am seeking for a prayer in the voice of the evening waves. Perhaps you will pray the Ten Prayers for me?

I can easily pray the Ten Prayers for you, if you will tell me who you are.

To tell you the truth--I am one of the family of Lord Atsumori.

One of Atsumori's family? How glad I am!
Then the priest joined his hands (he kneels down) and prayed:--

Praise to Amida Buddha!

So he spoke. Then vanished and was seen no more.

(Here follows the Interlude between the two Acts, in which a recitation concerning Atsumori's death takes place. These p. 40 interludes are subject to variation and are not considered part of the literary text of the play.)

Since this is so, I will perform all night the rites of prayer for the dead, and calling upon Amida's name will pray again for the salvation of Atsumori.

Would you know who I am
That like the watchmen at Suma Pass
Have wakened at the cry of sea-birds roaming
Upon Awaji shore?
Listen, Rensei. I am Atsumori.

How strange! All this while I have never stopped beating my gong and performing the rites of the Law. I cannot for a moment have dozed, yet I thought that Atsumori was standing before me. Surely it was a dream.

Why need it be a dream? It is to clear the karma of my waking life that I am come here in visible form before you.

Is it not written that one prayer will wipe away ten thousand sins? Ceaselessly I have performed the ritual of the Holy Name that clears all sin away. After such prayers, what evil can be left? Though you should be sunk in sin as deep . . .

As the sea by a rocky shore,
Yet should I be salved by prayer.

And that my prayers should save you . . .

This too must spring p. 41
From kindness of a former life. 1

Once enemies . . .

But now . . .

In truth may we be named . . .

Friends in Buddha's Law.

There is a saying, "Put away from you a wicked friend; summon to your side a virtuous enemy." For you it was said, and you have proven it true.

And now come tell with us the tale of your confession, while the night is still dark.

He 2 bids the flowers of Spring
Mount the tree-top that men may raise their eyes
And walk on upward paths;
He bids the moon in autumn waves be drowned
In token that he visits laggard men
And leads them out from valleys of despair.

Now the clan of Taira, building wall to wall,
Spread over the earth like the leafy branches of a great tree:

Yet their prosperity lasted but for a day;
It was like the flower of the convolvulus.
There was none to tell them 3 p. 42

That glory flashes like sparks from flint-stone,
And after,--darkness.
Oh wretched, the life of men!

When they were on high they afflicted the humble;
When they were rich they were reckless in pride.
And so for twenty years and more
They ruled this land.
But truly a generation passes like the space of a dream.
The leaves of the autumn of Juyei 1
Were tossed by the four winds;
Scattered, scattered (like leaves too) floated their ships.
And they, asleep on the heaving sea, not even in dream
Went back to home.
Caged birds longing for the clouds,--
Wild geese were they rather, whose ranks are broken
As they fly to southward on their doubtful journey.
So days and months went by; Spring came again
And for a little while
Here dwelt they on the shore of Suma
At the first valley. 2
From the mountain behind us the winds blew down
Till the fields grew wintry again.
Our ships lay by the shore, where night and day
The sea-gulls cried and salt waves washed on our sleeves.
We slept with fishers in their buts
On pillows of sand.
We knew none but the people of Suma.
And when among the pine-trees
The evening smoke was rising,
Brushwood, as they call it, 3
Brushwood we gathered
And spread for carpet.
Sorrowful we lived
On the wild shore of Suma,
Till the clan Taira and all its princes
Were but villagers of Suma.

But on the night of the sixth day of the second month
My father Tsunemori gathered us together.
"To-morrow," he said, "we shall fight our last fight.
To-night is all that is left us."
We sang songs together, and danced.

Yes, I remember; we in our siege-camp
Heard the sound of music
Echoing from your tents that night,;
There was the music of a flute . . .

The bamboo-flute! I wore it when I died.

We heard the singing . . .

Songs and ballads . . .

Many voices

Singing to one measure.

First comes the Royal Boat.

The whole clan has put its boats to sea.
He 1 will not be left behind;
He runs to the shore.
But the Royal Boat and the soldiers' boats
Have sailed far away.

What can he do? p. 44
He spurs his horse into the waves.
He is full of perplexity. And then

He looks behind him and sees
That Kumagai pursues him;
He cannot escape.
Then Atsumori turns his horse
Knee-deep in the lashing waves,
And draws his sword.
Twice, three times he strikes; then, still saddled,
In close fight they twine; roll headlong together
Among the surf of the shore.
So Atsumori fell and was slain, but now the Wheel of Fate
Has turned and brought him back.

"There is my enemy," he cries, and would strike,
But the other is grown gentle
And calling on Buddha's name
Has obtained salvation for his foe;
So that they shall be re-born together
On one lotus-seat.
"No, Rensei is not my enemy.
Pray for me again, oh pray for me again."