Publicly-accessible
Japanese Text Initiative
1st Edition
Records of Civilization: Sources and Studies, number LXXXV
Prepared for the University of Virginia Library Electronic Text Center.
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
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.
[ The Villager comes down the bridgeway to the first pine. He wears a short sword. ]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?
Perhaps I am from Suma; but first tell me what you want.
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.
The pine is linked with the memory of two fisher girls, Matsukaze and Murasame. Please say a prayer for them as you pass.
Thank you. I know nothing about them, but I will stop at the tree and say a prayer for them before I move on.
If I can be of further service, don't hesitate to ask.
Thank you for your kindness.
[ The Villager exits. The Priest goes to stage center and turns toward the pine tree. ]At your command, sir.
[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.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
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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.
A brine cart wheeled along the beach
Provides a meager livelihood:
The sad world rolls
Life by quickly and in misery!
[ Murasame goes to stage center while Matsukaze moves to the shite-position. ]
Here at Suma Bay
The waves shatter at our feet,
And even the moonlight wets our sleeves
With its tears of loneliness.
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;
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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.
[ They hide their faces. ]
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
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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!
Come, dip the brine
Where the seas flood and fall.
Let us tie our sleeves back to our shoulders
Think only, "Dip the brine."
We ready ourselves for the task,
But for women, this cart is too hard.
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