The stage assistants bring forward a simple construction representing a
hut with a thatched roof. It is covered with a cloth. The Old Woman is
inside.
As the music begins the Child, the Abbot, and two Priests enter and face
each other onstage. The Abbot and the Priests carry rosaries.
Komachi's hut stands before drums. From it hang a few slips of paper for
writing poems.
SHIDAI
Sideman and Sideman's Second enter, preceded by Child. They line up down
front, with Sideman and Sideman's Second facing each other.
I am the chief priest of Sekidera in Ōmi. Today, the seventh day of the
Seventh month, we come to celebrate the Festival of Stars here in the
temple garden. People say that the old woman who has built her hut at the
foot of the mountain knows all the secrets of the art of poetry. So, on
this festive day dedicated to poetry, I am going to take the young people
to hear her stories.
He turns to the Child.
Sideman
facing front
You have before you the head priest of Gateway Temple in the land of
Ōmi. Today being the seventh day of the seventh month, we're all
going into the garden of the Lecture Hall, to celebrate Seventh Night. But
now, an old woman has put together a hut under this mountain, and I
understand she's a master of the Way of Song; so I'm taking the young
people with me to hear what she has to say.
SASHI
off-str
一同サシ
「颯々たる凉風と衰鬢と。一時に來る初秋の。七日の夕に早なりぬ。
Three Priests
Early autumn comes and brings a touch of chill.
We feel it in the wind and in our thinning locks.
[2]2
Soon, soon the Seventh Night will be on us.
The Abbot faces front.
Sideman and Side Second
face to face
'Hiss and sigh
the chilling winds
and wilting hairs
converge at start of fall,'
and evening of
the seventh day
so soon has come.
ワキ
「今日七夕の手向けとて。糸竹呂律の色々に。
Abbot
We bring offerings for the festival today,
The music of flutes and strings,
ツレ
「ことを盡して。
Two Priests
And many poems
Sideman
facing front
This Seventh Night
we've offerings:
strings, pipes tuned
to modes and scales
many-hued
words urge we forth
for Blessed Isles'
The Abbot and his companions are now at their destination.
Abbot
Here is the hut now. Let us call on the old woman.
To the Child.
But first, please sit down.
All kneel. A stage assistant removes the cloth around the hut, revealing
the Old Woman seated inside. Paper strips inscribed with poems hang from
the crossbars of the hut frame. The Old Woman wears the uba mask.
Sideman and Side Second
face to face
Way our prayer
threads streaming bright
Way our prayer
threads streaming bright
oh, weave brocade
loom the flags of
pampas grasses,
flowers too
and autumn weeds
dew-spangled sing,
so gently plays
the pining wind,
Sideman takes a few steps and returns to his place by start of next
passage.
itself perfect
offering
this wondrous night
offering
this wondrous night!
TSUKI-ZERIFU
off-sp
Sideman
facing front
You wait here a moment, while I inquire within the hut.
All go to sit near Sideman's spot. Stage hand removes cover from the hut,
revealing Doer seated inside. She wears the
rōjo, or Old Woman, mask.
She weeps. The Abbot and the Child rise, and go to kneel before her.
Doer
Though mornings I get not one bowl, seek food I cannot;
though grass wraps, nights, hide not my flesh I have nothing more.
Flowers, as rains go by, lose their scarlet youth;
willows, as breezes lure them, let the green fronds droop.
Man is not young again: at last he's old,
and though spring come with warblers'
hundred carolings, no fall goes back
to yesteryear.
Oh the old days,
I miss them so!
I am a priest from Sekidera. These young people are students of poetry.
They have heard of your talent, and I have brought them here to question
you about poetry and to learn something of your life.
Sideman
sp
Old lady, I beg your pardon, but I'd like to speak with you.
Doer
Who is it?
Sideman
I'm from Gateway Temple. The children of the temple are studying poetry,
and they've been asking about the old lady. So I've brought them along to
ask you how to compose songs, and to listen to whatever you have to say.
This is an unexpected visit! The log buried in the earth has been so long
forgotten you must not expect it will put forth new sprouts.
[6]6
Just remember this: If you will make
your heart the seed and your words the blossoms,
[7]7
if you will steep yourself in the fragrance of the art, you will not fail
to accomplish true poetry. But how praiseworthy that mere boys should
cherish a love of poetry!
Doer
You do astonish me! A buried stump disowned by men, that's what I
am:
no longer shall
plumed pampas grass
burst into fruit. Just make the heart your seed, and dip the flowers of
your speech in hue and fragrance. If you do, then how should you fail to
grasp true style?
turning to Child
How lovely that all this should appeal to you young people!
ワキ
「先々普く人の翫び候ふは。難波津の歌を以て。手習ふ人の始めにもすべき由聞え候ふよなふ。
Abbot
May I ask you about a poem everyone knows, "The Harbor of Naniwa?"
[8]8
Do you agree that it should be used as a first guide?
Sideman
One that everyone praises right off is the 'Naniwa Harbor' song, and I
understand it's to be considered the first model for learners. Isn't that
so?
Indeed I do. Poetry goes back to the Age of the Gods, but the meters were
then irregular and the meanings difficult to understand. "The Harbor of
Naniwa," however, belongs to the Age of Man. It was composed for the
joyous occasion of an emperor's enthronement, and has long been beloved
for that reason.
[9]9
Doer
Very definitely. Song, you see, began in the Age of Gods, but the count of
letters then kept changing, and likely enough the heart of the matter was
difficult to make out. Now we're in the Age of Men; and it's because the
poem celebrates a happy Imperial accession that people make much of the
'Naniwa Harbor' song.
ワキ
「又淺香山の歌は。王の御心を和らげし故に。是れ又めでたき詠歌よなふ。
Abbot
The poem about Mount Asaka, which once soothed the heart of a prince, is
also beautifully written.
[10]10
Sideman
And the 'Mount Asaka' song is a very happy poem too, since it soothed the
heart of a king!
シテ
「實によく心得給ひたり。此二歌を父母として。
Old Woman
Truly, you understand the art,
For those two poems are the parents of all poetry.
Doer
Yes, you understand perfectly. With these two songs as mother and father
ripples o!
Sands of the shore
may reach an end
sands of the shore
may reach an end;
words of song, though,
never shall.
Greenwillow fronds
flow on
always,
pine needles
do not fall and die.
Know then that the seed's the heart!
And though times change,
though all things pass,
so long as words
of these songs last,
so long shall
the bird prints run
so long shall
the bird prints run.
Thank you for your words of explanation. It is true that countless poems
survive from the past, but they are rarely by
women. Few women know as much as you about poetry. Tell me—the
poem
Thank you. The old poets have left us many words, but songs by women are
rare. There are few like you, old lady! 'My own love
this night shall come:
little spider
with her web
weaves me a sign!' Is that a woman's song?
シテ
「是は古へ衣通姫の御歌なり。衣通姫とは允恭天皇の后にてまします。形の如く我等も其流をこそ學び候へ。
Old Woman
Yes, that poem was written long ago by Princess Sotori, the consort of
Emperor Ingyo. I tried, if only in form. to master her style.
Doer
That's a song by Princess Sotōri, of the old days. She was the
consort of Emperor Ingyō. In form, at least, it's her style I
followed.
Ah! You have studied the style of Princess Sotori? I have heard that Ono
no Komachi, who's so much talked of these days, wrote in that style.
[13]13
"Wretched that I am—
A floating water weed,
Broken from its roots—
If a stream should beckon,
I would follow it, I think."
That poem is by Komachi.
Sideman
Well now, you say you followed Princess Sotōri's style? Ono no
Komachi herself, who's so much heard of in recent years,
Doer lowers her head.
is said to work in Princess Sotōri's style. 'So forlorn I
grieve,
pondweed root-cut and drifting;
should some stream
stir to woo me now
I'd go, I know!' There's a song by Komachi!
Yes, once my husband, Oe no Koreaki, took up with another woman, and I
grieved at the fickleness of the world. Then, Funya no Yasuhide
[14]14
invited me to accompany him to Mikawa, where he was to be the governor. I
wrote that poem in response to his urging and to his promises that life in
the country would bring solace.
Alas, memories of the past!
So long forgotten, they rise up again
Before me as I talk to you.
Tears well up from my suffering heart.
She weeps.
Doer
lifting head
s
Yes, Ōe no Koreaki had had a change of heart, and I was very
downcast.
sp
Then Fun'ya no Yasuhide, on his way down as Governor of Mikawa, suggested
I come with him. 'Do please find solace in my country dwelling,' said he,
turning to Sideman
and that was why I made the song.
SAGEUTA
on-w
turning front again
I'd forgotten
through the years,
but listening now,
tears fall for old
things
brought to mind
alas, with sorrow!
Strange! This old woman says she wrote the poem "Wretched that I am." And
she says she wrote in the Sotori style, just as Komachi did. She must be
nearly a hundred years old, and if Komachi were still alive today. . . .
And is there any reason why she couldn't be? It must be so!
to the Old Woman.
You are what is left of Ono no Komachi. Do not deny it.
Sideman
sp
How strange! I hear you say that it's you who made the song, 'So forlorn I
grieve' and your statement that you followed Princess Sotōri's style
sounds like Komachi too. In fact, as I consider the age. . . You, old
lady, say you're a hundred; then even if Komachi were much changed, she
might well still be alive. No, there's no longer any doubt: you yourself
are what is left of Komachi!
s
I tell you, hide it no longer!
シテ
「いや小町とは恥かしや。色見えでとこそよみし物を。
Old Woman
Ah, I burn with shame to be called Komachi, I who wrote
Now that my life has reached its end,
Like a withered flower,
Why should there still be tears?
Indeed,
'screen them I do,
yet from these sleeves spill shining drops,
of eyes that see thee not the tears,' reigning
memories sow seeds
of passion grasses'
bloom now wilted
I, until the end,
shall hold—but why?—
with shining dews
to days long since gone.
Attending the months and years as they come and go.
The dews of spring depart, and autumn frosts appear,
The leaves and grasses turn, and insect voices fade.
Chorus
sang I, though now
it suits me ill;
so long they've come,
the moons and years
I send off, greet,
as spring and fall
with dews trip in
and pass with frost,
for leaves of grass change,
insect cries
have died away.
Live on, like flowers fallen, like leaves scattered,
With nothing left but life—dewlike, they always said.
Oh, how I long for the past!
My middle years were spent in yearning
For the distant glory of my youth.
Now even those days of wistful recollection
Have become such ancient history
I find myself wishing, if not for youth,
At least for middle age.
Long ago, wherever I spent a single night
My room would be bright with tortoise shell,
Golden flowers hung from the walls,
And in the door were strings of crystal beads.
[20]20
Brilliant as the Emperor's chair in grand procession
The jewellike gowns I wore, a hundred colors.
I lay on bright brocaded quilts
Within a pillowed bridal chamber.
Look at it now, my mud-daubed hut!
Can this be my resplendent room?
Old Woman
The temple bell of Sekidera
Chorus
Tolls the vanity of all creation—
To ancient ears a needless lesson.
A mountain wind blows down Osaka's slope
To moan the certainty of death;
Its message still eludes me.
Yet, when blossoms scatter and leaves fall,
Still in this hut I find my pleasure:
Grinding ink, I dip my brush and write.
My words are all dry, like seaweed on the shore.
Touching, they once said, but lacking strength
[21]21—
My poems lacked strength because they were a woman's.
Now when I have grown decrepit
My poems are weaker still. Their life is spent.
How wretched it is to be old!
She weeps. The Child turns to the Abbot.
Chorus
just like the rose of Sharon's
one glorious day.
'The living die,
the dead gain ever more
in this my life
alas, how long
am I bound to mourn?'
That too I sang,
oh how long
the ivy vine,
flowers falling,
leaves all dropping,
lingers in dewdrop life!
She lowers her head, lost in memories.
Oh the old days,
I miss them so!
Each time I feel
one with the past
I so recall, old things capture me,
till now, again,
She lifts her head, checks tears.
I am in love
with those first years
of old age.
Most piteous my plight!
In the old days
the very room
I lodged in
a single night
was decked with tortoiseshell;
the fence hung with
golden blossoms;
doorways dripped rock crystal;
Imperial Car,
court carriages
in radiant silks
of proudest hues
smooth-spread
pillows enhanced
the lovers' chamber
where, within,
I took my ease
on flower-brocaded cushions.
She lowers her head.
Now, a mud-daub hut's
my jeweled couch!
She lifts her head, listens to bell.
Doer
Gateway Temple's
bell tolls
Chorus
'All things must pass';
these old ears hear
but learn nothing.
Winds sweep down
She looks into distance to her right.
Osaka Pass:
'All born must die,'
they say;
oh, if I knew!
When petals fly
and leaves fall, then,
each time,
for my delight,
here at my wattled door
She takes one of the poem slips in her left hand, then uses fan to mime
dipping a writing brush in ink. She writes, dips brush again,
writes some more as Chorus sings on.
the inkstone I make sing,
stain the brush, and
salt sea tangle
trace out leaves of speech
soon withered quite.
She gazes at the slip she has been writing on.
'Most affecting, but not strong.'
Not strong because
a woman's songs . . .
Weakly puts the poem slip down, and checks tears.
So terribly
in my old age
I've grown weak,
till all that's left
is sorrow.
MONDO
off-sp
子詞
「如何に申し候。七夕の祭おそなはり候。老女をも伴なひ御申し候へ。
Child
I'm afraid we'll be late for the Festival of Stars. Let's ask the old
lady to come with us.
The Abbot kneels before the Old Woman.
Sideman
to Sideman's Second
You know, it's getting late for the feast of Seventh Night. Do invite the
old lady to come along with us.
ワキシ
「如何に老女。七夕の祭を御出で有つて御覽候へ。
Abbot
Please join us on this Seventh Night, the Festival of Stars.
Side Second
By all means.
Sideman's Second stands and moves a few steps toward Doer.
I beg your pardon, old lady, but what harm could it do? Do please come and
have a look at the celebration we're offering for Seventh Night.
シテ
「いやいや老女の事は憚りにて候ふ程に。思ひも寄らず候。
Old Woman
Alas! An old woman should not intrude on such an occasion. I cannot go.
She takes down the paper poem cards.
Doer
Oh no, an old woman shouldn't impose that way. I wouldn't think of it.
Sideman's Second goes back to his place and sits. Sideman stands.
ワキ
「何の苦しう候ふべき。唯々出で候へとよ。
Abbot
What harm could come of it? Please come with us.
He goes to the hut and helps the Old Woman to stand.
Sideman
No, no, old lady, we'll be glad to have you.
He goes up to Doer and touches her. She picks up her staff.
Don't worry! Just come with us!
Doer stands, aided by Sideman, and emerges from the hut. At 'Komachi,' she
goes to main spot while Sideman retires to Sideman's spot.
Assisted by the Abbot and leaning on a staff, the Old Woman leaves the
hut.
Has Ono no Komachi reached a hundred years?
Or even more?
I who used to watch the Festival of Stars,
Familiar of the noblest lords and ladies,
She kneels beside the shite-pillar. The
Abbot goes back beside the others.
Now stand in shameful hempen rags!
A sight too painful for eyes to bear!
The Abbot weeps.
Still, tonight we hold the Festival of Stars,
The Child stands and mimes serving wine to the Old Woman.
Tonight we celebrate the Seventh Night
With multitudes of offerings for the stars.
Prayer streamers hang from bamboo,
While the following lines are being sung the Child goes to the
gazing-pillar, moves clockwise around the stage, then stands at the center
preparatory to beginning his dance.
Music plays and cups of wine go round.
The young dancer-look how gracefully
He twirls his sleeves, like snow
Swirling in the moonlight.
The Old Woman, still seated, watches the Child dance.
We celebrate the Festival of Stars,
Streamers flutter from the bamboos . . .
Chorus
Seventh Night:
weave streamer wands
to offer up
how many years
gone shadow sere
Ono no Komachi's touched
one hundred,
overhead
Heaven's own congress of stars
with cloud walkers
quite at ease
Now Doer gazes at her sleeves. At 'poor woman,' she sits wearily, leaning
on her staff, and lowers her head.
did she brush sleeves,
now hempen-clad,
poor woman!
Oh painful fate!
A sight not to be borne!
Sideman opens his fan, holds it like a sake ladle, and faces Child. As
Chorus sings on, Child opens his fan and holds it like a cup. He receives
the liquor from Sideman, then goes before Doer and pours for her. At
'streamer wands,' he stands and begins to dance: at 'round cups go,' moves
to mark post, then sweeps left up to drums; at 'oh lovely,' comes to
center, opens.
UTA
on-w
Ah yes, this night
for Seventh Night
ah yes, this night
for Seventh Night
offerings we have
diverse,
some, streamer wands
twirling round
and round cups go
while moon snow lights
on dancing children's sleeves,
oh lovely scene!
EI
off-w
Fine bamboo wands
with which we feast the Stars
シテ
「世々を經て住む行末の。
Old Woman
May it be celebrated through ages as many
As the joints of the bamboo!
The Old Woman, hardly aware of what she does, taps the rhythm with her
fan.
Doer
age to age jointed
live on, headed hence
Child returns to Sideman's spot, does a leftright, and sits. Doer, as
though unconsciously, beats time with fan.
Oh, lovely
they were just now,
the dancing children's sleeves!
Long ago
at Harvest Vigil
the girls of the Five Measure Dance
twirled their sleeves
yes, five times it was;
s
sleeves offered now
for Seventh Night
should be turned seven times.
sp
When a madman runs, they say, the sane run after him. Now, lured by the
dancing children's sleeves,
s
the madman's going to run.
With the aid of her staff she stands, then taps beat once.
WAKA
off-w
One hundred years
MAI
She begins to dance, very slowly. Some way into the dance she lays down
her staff, to pick it up again near the end. She stops at last at main
spot and, as text resumes, strikes fan high pose.
WAKA
off-w
シテワキ
「百年は。花に宿りし胡蝶の舞。
Old Woman
How gracefully that boy has danced! I remember how, long ago in the
Palace, the Gosechi dancing girls swirled their sleeves five times at the
Harvest Festival. They say that if a madman runs, even the sane will run
after him. But tonight the proverb is reversed! Enticed by the boy's
floating sleeves, see how a madwoman prances!
She stands with the aid of her staff and begins her dance.
One hundred years
snug in a flower
now dances the butterfly.
Now she continues dancing, staff in hand. At 'touching sight,' she does a
leftright; at 'skirts,' moves to mark post; at'wandering,'
displays
open fan; at 'scarves,' turns left up to center; at 'sleeves,' looks at
sleeves.)
NORIJI
onori-w
地
「あはれなりあはれなり。老木の花の枝。
Chorus
How sad it isl It breaks my heart
A flowering branch on a withered tree!
Chorus
Oh touching sight!
Oh touching sight!
The old tree bough
blossoms
シテ
「さす袖も手忘れ。
Old Woman
I have forgotten how to move my hands.
Doer
nod, swinging sleeves
move how forgotten
地
「もすそも足弱く。
Chorus
Unsteady feet, uncertain wave of sleeves,
Chorus
skirts keep feeble step,
シテ
「ただよふ波の。
Old Woman
Billow after billow, floating wave on wave.
Doer
a wandering wave's
地
「立ち舞ふ袂はひるがへせども。昔に返す袖はあらばこそ。
Chorus
My dancing sleeves rise up,
But sleeves cannot wave back the past.
She goes before the hut.
Chorus
up and dancing
scarves toss round
but no sleeves these
to turn back the old days!
シテ
「あら戀しの古へやな。
Old Woman
I miss those vanished days!
She kneels and weeps.
Doer
off
Oh the past,
I miss it so!
She sits at center, staff held over left shoulder, and hides tears. At
'all the while,' she lifts her head; then gazes up to the eastern sky;
then listens to temple bell and to cockcrow; at 'caught me,' lowers head.
NORIJI
onori-w
Chorus
All the while
the short night
of early fall
begins to break,
Gateway Temple's bell,
Doer
cocks a-crowing
Chorus
tell abroad dawn's
caught me, ah,
Doer
the Forest of Vergogne
She stands, leaning on her staff.
never will hide me now.
She bows her head toward Sideman, then makes her way toward hut.
Farewell,
I'm going back,
says she,
leans on her staff
and totters home
to the straw hut
whence she came;
She enters hut and sits facing front, with staff over her right shoulder.
a hundred-year-old crone
is she called now,
the ruin of Komachi
She checks tears.
is she called now,
the ruin of Komachi.
While music is still playing, she comes out of hut and stands motionless.
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