Matsukaze

Keene translation: Tyler, Royall


About the electronic version
Matsukaze
Keene translation: Tyler, Royall
Creation of machine-readable version: Charlotte Robertson and Winnie Chan
Creation of digital images:
Conversion to TEI.2-conformant markup: University of Virginia Library Electronic Text Center.
University of Virginia Library.
Charlottesville, Va.

   Publicly-accessible


http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/japanese/
http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/modeng/modengK.browse.html
http://www.columbia.edu/cu/cup
1997

   Japanese Text Initiative


Note: Note: (ETC) The text has been given an id of KeeMats because this edition is commonly referred to as the Keene translation.
About the print version
Matsukaze
Twenty Plays of the No Theatre
Royall Tyler

   1st Edition


Columbia University Press
New York
1970

   Records of Civilization: Sources and Studies, number LXXXV

   Prepared for the University of Virginia Library Electronic Text Center.


Published: 1970

Revisions to the electronic version
August 1997 corrector Catherine Tousignant, Electronic Text Center
  • Added milestones to correspond with TylMats.



  • February 1997 corrector Winnie Chan
  • Added TEI header and tags.



  • etextcenter@virginia.edu. Commercial use prohibited; all usage governed by our Conditions of Use: http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/conditions.html

    Page 18

    Introduction

        Matsukaze is a play of the third category. The original text was by Kan'ami, but it was considerably reworked by Zeami. In its present form it is a masterpiece, and its popularity has never faltered.

        The word matsukaze (wind in the pines) evokes for Japanese a feeling of exquisite solitude and melancholy. Suma Bay, the scene of the play, has similar associations, for it was the place where Genji was exiled. The account of Genji's exile, recounted in the "Exile at Suma" chapter of The Tale of Genji, was apparently inspired by the exile of Ariwara no Yukihira (818-893), a famous poet, courtier, and scholar. Yukihira's poem on his exile, found in the Kokinshu, is quoted in the play. Another source for the play is a story told in the Senshusho, a thirteenth-century collection of tales: One day, when Yukihira was walking along a beach near Suma he met some men spearing fish. He asked where they lived, and they replied,


    "We who spend our lives
    By the shore where the white waves break
    Are fishermen's sons, and we have
    No home we can call our own."

        Yukihira was moved to tears.

        Most of Matsukaze, however, appears to have been the invention


    Page 19

    of the playwright. It gives an impression of youthful vigor, but is constructed with care. Matsukaze's "mad scene" is made almost inevitable, and the lack of surprise only heightens the dramatic power. Only at the conclusion of the play does the reader (or, even more so, the spectator) realize how completely he has been gripped by the lyrical and dramatic tension, when he is released from the dream by one of the most effective wordplays in literature: Matsukaze and her sister Murasame (Autumn Rain) withdraw, and suddenly the chorus restores their names to their original meanings. The ghosts dissolve back into nature, leaving us alone, listening only to the wind in the pines. No more beautiful awakening could be imagined.

        The play's imagery is built around the sea (salt, brine, the tide, waves, the sea wind), the moon, and pine trees. These, with the mountains looming in the background, compose an archetypal Japanese landscape. The moon, moreover, is a symbol of Buddhist enlightenment. Although it shines alone in the sky, it is reflected in many waters, just as the unified Buddha-nature is manifested in seemingly distinct beings.

        Suma, the scene of Matsukaze, now lies within the city limits of Kobe. The play is performed by all schools of No.


    Page 20

    PERSONS

    AN ITINERANT PRIEST (waki):
    A VILLAGER (kyogen):
    MATSUKAZE (shite):
    MURASAME (tsure):

       

    PLACE

    SUMA BAY IN SETTSU PROVINCE

       

    TIME

    AUTUMN, THE NINTH MONTH



    Page 21

    MATSUKAZE

    [ The stage assistant places a stand with a pine sapling set into it at the front of the stage. The Priest enters and stands at the naming-place. He carries a rosary. ]

    Priest

        I am a priest who travels from province to province. Lately I have been in the Capital. I visited the famous sites and ancient ruins, not missing a one. Now I intend to make a pilgrimage to the western provinces. [ He faces forward. ]
    I have hurried, and here I am already at the Bay of Suma in Settsu Province. [ His attention is caught by pine tree. ]
    How strange! That pine on the beach has a curious look. There must be a story connected with it. I'll ask someone in the neighborhood. [ He faces the bridgeway. ]
    Do you live in Suma?

    [ The Villager comes down the bridgeway to the first pine. He wears a short sword. ]

    Villager

        Perhaps I am from Suma; but first tell me what you want.


    Priest

        I am a priest and I travel through the provinces. Here on the beach I see a solitary pine tree with a wooden tablet fixed to it, and a poem slip hanging from the tablet. Is there a story connected with the tree? Please tell me what you know.


    Villager

        The pine is linked with the memory of two fisher girls, Matsukaze and Murasame. Please say a prayer for them as you pass.


    Priest

        Thank you. I know nothing about them, but I will stop at the tree and say a prayer for them before I move on.


    Villager

        If I can be of further service, don't hesitate to ask.


    Priest

        Thank you for your kindness.


    Villager

        At your command, sir.

    [ The Villager exits. The Priest goes to stage center and turns toward the pine tree. ]

    Priest

        So, this pine tree is linked with the memory of two fisher girls, Matsukaze and Murasame. It is sad! Though their bodies are buried in the ground, their names linger on. This lonely pine tree lingers on also, ever green and untouched


    Page 22

    by autumn, their only memorial.
    Ah! While I have been chanting sutras and invoking Amida Buddha for their repose, the sun, as always on autumn days, has quickly set. That village at the foot of the mountain is a long way. Perhaps I can spend the night in this fisherman's salt shed.

    [He kneels at the waki-position. The stage assistant brings out the prop, a cart for carrying pails of brine, and sets it by the gazing-pillar. He places a pail on the cart.
    Murasame enters and comes down the bridgeway as far as the first pine. She wears the tsure mask. Matsukaze follows her and stops at the third pine. She wears the wakaonna mask. Each carries a water pail. They face each other.
    ]

    Matsukaze and Murasame

    A brine cart wheeled along the beach
    Provides a meager livelihood:
    The sad world rolls
    Life by quickly and in misery!


    Murasame

    Here at Suma Bay
    The waves shatter at our feet,
    And even the moonlight wets our sleeves
    With its tears of loneliness.

    [ Murasame goes to stage center while Matsukaze moves to the shite-position. ]

    Murasame

    The autumn winds are sad.
    When the Middle Counselor Yukihira
    Lived here back a little from the sea,
    They inspired his poem,
    "Salt winds blowing from the mountain pass. . . ."
    1
    On the beach, night after night,
    Waves thunder at our door;

    Page 23

    And on our long walks to the village
    We've no companion but the moon. 2
    Our toil, like all of life, is dreary,
    But none could be more bleak than ours.
    A skiff cannot cross the sea,
    Nor we this dream world.
    Do we exist, even?
    Like foam on the salt sea,
    We draw a cart,
    3
    friendless and alone,
    Poor fisher girls whose sleeves are wet
    With endless spray, and tears
    From our hearts' unanswered longing.


    Chorus

    Our life is so hard to bear
    That we envy the pure moon
    4
    Now rising with the tide.
    But come, let us dip brine,
    Dip brine from the rising tide!
    Our reflections seem to shame us!

    [ They look down as if catching a glimpse of their refiections in the water. The movement of their heads "clouds" the expression on their masks, making it seem sad. ]

    Yes, they shame us!
    Here, where we shrink from men's eyes,
    Drawing our timorous cart;
    The withdrawing tide
    Leaves stranded pools behind.
    How long do they remain?
    If we were the dew on grassy fields,
    We would vanish with the sun.
    But we are sea tangle,
    Washed up on the shore,
    Raked into heaps by the fishermen,
    Fated to be discarded, useless,
    Withered and rotting,
    Like our trailing sleeves,
    Like our trailing sleeves

    [ They look down again. ]

    Endlessly familiar, still how lovely
    The twilight at Suma!
    5

    Page 24

    The fishermen call out in muffled voices;
    At sea, the small boats loom dimly.
    Across the faintly glowing face of the moon
    Flights of wild geese streak,
    And plovers flock below along the shore.
    Fall gales and stiff sea winds:
    These are things, in such a place,
    That truly belong to autumn.
    But oh, the terrible, lonely nights!

    [ They hide their faces. ]

    Matsukaze

    Come, dip the brine


    Murasame

    Where the seas flood and fall.
    Let us tie our sleeves back to our shoulders


    Matsukaze

    Think only, "Dip the brine."


    Murasame

    We ready ourselves for the task,


    Matsukaze

    But for women, this cart is too hard.


    Chorus

    While the rough breakers surge and fall,

    [ Murasame moves upstage to stand beside Matsukaze. ]

    While the rough breakers surge and fall,
    And cranes among the reeds
    Fly up with sharp cries.
    The four winds add their wailing.
    How shall we pass the cold night?

    [ They look up. ]

    The late moon is so brilliant --
    What we dip is its reflection!
    Smoke from the salt fires
    May cloud the moon