by Неизвестный
WIFE: Children. There are children.
MAN’S VOICE: Be careful, please. Tonight is especially cold. Be careful that they don’t freeze to death while they sleep. The city authorities are drawing special attention to that danger.
There is the striking of wooden clappers, which gradually fades. Then, “Watch your fire,” is heard from afar. The woman raises her head, as if still half asleep.
WOMAN: Father, while I was asleep, how many cookies did he eat?
MAN: Well, one, wasn’t it?
WIFE: It was one, definitely. . . .
WOMAN: No, it was two. He ate two. I had counted them. I don’t appreciate your letting him do that. Don’t you remember, Father, how many times I asked you not to? He knows no limits. If you let him do it, he’ll eat far too many. I have only eaten one so far. That’s true, isn’t it, Mother?
WIFE: Yes, but since there are plenty, don’t feel that you have to restrain yourself. . . .
WOMAN: No, I don’t mean it that way. I told him about it, but, no matter how often I tell him, he doesn’t seem to understand. It’s the same with Father. I’ve asked you so often!
MAN: But I didn’t . . .
WOMAN: No, I had spoken to you earlier. But it’s not your fault. (To her brother.) You’re the one. Mother, I hate to trouble you, but would you put these away?
WIFE: Yes, but there are plenty.
WOMAN: It will become a habit. Now apologize to Father and Mother.
MAN: Well, that’s all right. Your brother was probably hungry.
WOMAN: Everyone is. Everyone is hungry. But people exercise self-control. You . . . you’re the only one . . . doing such greedy things. . . . Well, apologize.
She gives him a jab with her fingers.
WIFE: Please, don’t do that! Really, please stop. It’s all right. In this house it doesn’t matter at all.
WOMAN: Mother, don’t interfere. This is our affair. I raised this child. Apologize. Why don’t you apologize? Don’t you feel ashamed? What did I always say to you?
MAN: Well, I understand your point very well. It’s commendable. It’s very commendable. However . . .
WOMAN: Apologize!
MAN: Listen . . . will you? Here’s another way of looking at it. What you say is sound, but don’t tell me that if he gets hungry, it’s his own fault. Really. Shouldn’t you think again?
WOMAN: Please stay out of it. I’m the one who raised him. I taught him better.
MAN: Yes, I can understand how difficult that must have been.
WOMAN: No, you can’t understand. You don’t know how much I have done for him. From the age of seven. I have done things I’m ashamed to admit in front of other people in order to raise him. (To her brother.) Why can’t you understand? Why don’t you listen to me? Why don’t you do what I tell you?
WIFE: He seems to obey you quite well.
MAN: That’s certainly true. Your brother is very courteous.
WOMAN (becoming more agitated): I’m a despised woman. It’s because I became that kind of woman that you won’t listen to me, isn’t it?
She twists her brother’s arm. He stands up slowly, and then slowly crouches down on the floor.
WOMAN: What did I do that was so shameful? What do you say I did? And, if I did, who did I do it for? Just who did I have to do that kind of thing for? Tell me! Please tell me! Compared to what you have done, what does what I have done amount to? Which is worse? Tell me, which is worse? Tell us. Come on, out with it!
MAN (to the brother): You’d better apologize. Please. Apologize. You shouldn’t disobey your sister. You know that she’s suffered many hardships to raise you. You understand that, don’t you? And that she loves you. It’s not good not to obey her instructions. That’s bad.
WOMAN: Father! Please be quiet for a while! He doesn’t understand yet. What I did . . . and who I did it for. And how miserable I have felt about doing it . . . to this very day. (To her brother.) Listen! What did I keep telling you? Did I say you could sink so low just because you’re hungry? Did I teach you to be so rude in front of Father and Mother? Now apologize! Say “pardon me” to Father and Mother. I say apologize! Can’t you see how ashamed I feel because of what you did? Then, apologize. Apologize! Apologize! Apologize!
While saying this, she bangs his head, with a thumping sound, on the floor.
WIFE: Please stop that! It’s all right. Really, he doesn’t have to. Don’t be so harsh.
WOMAN: Please stay out of it! (Increasingly violent.) Whose cookie did you eat? Because of you, who won’t have any?
WIFE: There are plenty. Plenty. We can’t possibly eat them all.
WOMAN: Whose was it? Who won’t get any? Please tell us!
MAN: Stop it. I’ll go get them immediately. We have plenty. (Grabbing her arm to stop her.)
WOMAN: Let go of me, please!
MAN (becoming angry): Stop! What in the world is this all about? What are you doing?
WOMAN (startled, suddenly becoming humble, bowing her head to the man): I beg you. I’ll make him apologize. I’ll make him apologize immediately. Please forgive him. He didn’t mean anything. He’ll apologize right now. He’s usually more obedient. He’s usually a well-behaved child.
MAN (a little bewildered): But that’s all right. Because we’re not really concerned about it.
WOMAN: I’ll have him apologize, though, because I don’t feel right about it. And, please, forgive him. He’s already sorry about it, too, in his heart. He is apologizing. He’s crying. It’s just that he can’t say anything.
WIFE: You . . .
WOMAN: Please forgive me, Mother. I was wrong. I was a bad woman. I did such a shameful thing. . . .
WIFE: That’s not the point. It’s all right.
WOMAN: No, it’s not all right. But please don’t say that my brother is bad. He’s feeling sorry. Forgive him. He’s basically a gentle, courteous human being. He’s usually very self-controlled. Please forgive him. I’ll make him apologize. Right now. He was hungry. That’s all it is. We can’t blame him for that. Please don’t blame him for that. I’ll make him apologize. I apologize, too.
MAN (approaching her tenderly and trying to lift her to her feet): That’s all right. Let’s stop all this. I understand.
WOMAN (brushing him away): No, please forgive me. Don’t touch me! You must forgive me. I’m a bad woman. Please forgive me. (Crawling away from him as she says this.)
MAN: What are you doing? (Again extending his hand.)
WOMAN (retreating in the direction of the wife): Forgive me, Mother. I did a bad thing. Please forgive me. At least give me your forgiveness.
WIFE: What’s wrong?
MAN: What in the world is it? . . .
WOMAN: Forgive me. Father. (Again retreating from the man.) Forgive me, Father. Forgive me, please. Matches. Please don’t strike the matches. . . .
She bends down on the floor, covering her head, and remains motionless. The man and his wife stand dazed. The brother rises slowly. They stand quietly for a moment. The wife is about to kneel down next to the woman.
BROTHER (quietly): Please don’t touch her. She’s a woman who can’t sink any further. That’s why she doesn’t want to be touched.
He goes to her, hugging her and lifting her to his knee. The man and wife stand bewildered.
WOMAN (as from afar): Matches . . . don’t strike the matches.
BROTHER (murmuring): Father bought matches. Father bought matches. Father bought matches. Every night . . . every night . . . for my sister . . . night after night for my sister. . . .
MAN: No . . . (To his wife.) I didn’t do that. I never did that kind of thing.
BROTHER: But I don’t blame you. Whatever you did, I can’t blame you. Because my sister said, “Don’t blame him. Don’t blame him. . . .”
WOMAN’S VOICE (low and hoarse): Then the little girl struck the rest of the matches all at once, in a great hurry. In doing this, she hoped that she would be able to hold firmly to her mother. The matches were burnin
g very brightly, lighting up the whole area, so that it became brighter than daylight. There was never a time when her mother looked larger, or more beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, wrapped her in light and joy, and went climbing high, high up. There was no more cold, hunger, or fear. The two of them were called up to heaven.
MAN’S VOICE (stealthily): Did you notice?
MAN: What?
MAN’S VOICE: You can’t hear the children breathing in their sleep anymore.
There is the striking of wooden clappers, which gradually fades. Then, “Watch your fire,” is heard from afar.
The man and his wife sit silently at the table, solemnly beginning “morning tea.” . . .
WOMAN’S VOICE (a little more clearly): It was a cold morning. The little girl, with red cheeks, and with even a smile playing on her lips, was dead.
The New Year’s morning sun illuminated that little body. One hand held a bunch of matches, almost entirely burned up. People said, “She must have tried to warm herself. . . .” It was true. This child had been very cold.
KINOSHITA JUNJI
Kinoshita Junji (1914–2006) was the most gifted of the postwar playwrights who wrote about political events in terms of their own humanistic ideals. In this regard, he may be roughly compared with his American contemporary Arthur Miller. The topics of Kinoshita’s plays range from the Tokyo war crimes trials to the incidents involving the Soviet spy Richard Sorge in prewar Japan. Kinoshita’s interest in the patterns of ordinary Japanese people’s lives led him to write a series of plays based on folk themes. The most famous of these is Twilight Crane (Yūzuru), first performed in 1949 and now one of great classics of postwar Japanese theater. The play has even been performed by nō troupes and used as the libretto for an opera.1
TWILIGHT CRANE (YŪZURU)
Translated by Brian Powell
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Yohyō
Tsū
Sōdo
Unzu
Children
Snow all around. In the middle of it, one small, solitary shack, open on one side. Behind it an expanse of deep red evening sky. In the distance the sound of children singing:
Let’s make a coat for grandpa to wear,
Let’s make a coat for grandma to wear,
Lah-lala lah, lah lah lah,
Lah-lala, lah-lala, lah lah lah.
The house has two rooms. One (to the right) is closed off by shōji. In the center of the other, visible to the audience, is a square open hearth. Yohyō is fast asleep beside it. The singing stops, and the children come running on.
CHILDREN (in unison, as if they were still singing):
Come out and sing us a song, please do.
Come out and play some games, please do.
Come out and sing us a song.
YOHYŌ (waking up): What’s all this?
CHILDREN:
Come out and play some games.
Sing us a song, please do.
YOHYŌ: Are you calling Tsū? She’s not in.
CHILDREN: She’s not in? Really not in? That’s no good. Where’s she gone?
YOHYŌ: Where? I don’t know.
CHILDREN: Where’s she gone? When’s she coming back? Tell us, tell us, tell us!
YOHYŌ: You’re getting on my nerves! (Stands up.)
CHILDREN (running away): Ah! Look out! Yohyō’s cross. Yohyō! Yohyō! Silly Yohyō!
YOHYŌ: Hey! Don’t run away. Don’t run away. I’ll play with you.
CHILDREN: What’ll we play?
YOHYŌ: Well, what shall we play?
CHILDREN: Knocking over Sticks.
YOHYŌ: OK. Knocking over Sticks.
CHILDREN: Singing.
YOHYŌ: OK. Singing.
CHILDREN: Snowball Fight.
YOHYŌ: OK. Snowball Fight. (As he speaks, he moves into the children’s group.)
CHILDREN: Bird in the Cage.
YOHYŌ: OK. Bird in the Cage.
CHILDREN (chanting): Stag, Stag, How Many Horns.
YOHYŌ: OK. Stag, Stag, How Many Horns. Right, I’m coming. I’m coming.
CHILDREN: Stag, Stag, How Many Horns. (They run off repeating this.)
YOHYŌ (starting to go after them): (To himself.) Hang on! It’ll be awful for Tsū to come back and find the soup cold. I must look after her—she’s precious. (Goes back into the house and hangs the pot over the fire.)
Tsū glides swiftly in from the back of the house.
TSŪ: Yohyō, really, you are not . . . ?
YOHYŌ: Where were you?
TSŪ: I just slipped out . . . you are not supposed to do that . . .
YOHYŌ: Well, I thought it would be awful for you to come back and find the soup cold. So I put it over the fire.
TSŪ: Oh, thank you so much. I will start preparing the rest of the meal for you.
YOHYŌ: All right. So I’m going out to play. It’s Knocking over Sticks.
TSŪ: Really—Knocking over Sticks?
YOHYŌ: And then, Snowball Fights. And then, singing songs.
TSŪ: And then . . . Bird in the Cage. And then, Stag, Stag, How Many Horns?
YOHYŌ: Yes, yes. Stag, Stag, How Many Horns. You come too.
TSŪ: I would like to. But I have the meal to prepare . . .
YOHYŌ: Leave it! Come. (Takes her hand and pulls her.)
TSŪ: No.
YOHYŌ: Come on. Why not? Both of us will play.
TSŪ: No, no. No, I say. (Laughing, she allows herself to be pulled off. )
The children’s singing is heard in the distance. Sōdo and Unzu appear.
SŌDO: Her? Is she Yohyō’s wife?
UNZU: She is too. He’s a lucky so-and-so, suddenly getting a fine wife like that. Nowadays he spends a lot of his time taking naps by the fire.
SŌDO: He used to be such a hard worker—stupid idiot! And now he’s got a fine woman like that—in a place like this! Why?
UNZU: Nobody knows when she came or where she came from. She just came . . . But thanks to her, Yohyō doesn’t have to do anything now—and he’s made a lot of money.
SŌDO: You weren’t fooling me, were you? What you told me about that cloth.
UNZU: No, it’s true. Take it to the town and you can always get ten gold pieces for it.
SŌDO (ponders): And you say she weaves it?
UNZU: Yes she does. But there is one thing. Before she goes into the room where the loom is, she tells Yohyō not to look at her while she’s weaving. So Yohyō accepts what she says, doesn’t look into the room, and goes to bed. Then the next morning, there it is—all woven, so he says. It’s beautiful cloth.
SŌDO: Crane Feather Weave—that’s what you called it, wasn’t it?
UNZU: That’s what they call it in the town. They say it’s so rare you’d have to go to India to find anything like it.
SŌDO: And you’re the middleman. I bet you’re raking it in.
UNZU: Well—not all that much.
SŌDO: Don’t give me that. But . . . if that’s real Feather Weave, we’re not talking about just fifty or a hundred gold pieces.
UNZU: Go on! D’you mean it? What is Crane Feather Weave, anyway?
SŌDO: It’s cloth woven from a thousand feathers taken from a living crane.
UNZU (puzzled): But where could Yohyō’s wife get all those crane feathers?
SŌDO: Hmm. This is the weaving room, I suppose . . . (Without thinking, he goes up into the house and peers into the closed-off room through a chink in the shōji.) Yes, there’s a loom there. . . . Ah! (Cries out in astonishment.)
UNZU: What is it? What is it?
SŌDO: Take a look. Crane feathers. . . . Well. That seems to . . .
UNZU: So the cloth could be the real thing.
Pause. Tsū has returned and glides in from the back.
UNZU (startled): Ah!
SŌDO (thrown off guard): I’m sorry—we shouldn’t have come up into the house while you were out. . . .
TSŪ: . . . (Pause. Watches the two of them suspiciously
, with her head inclined to one side like a bird.)
UNZU: Oh . . . ah . . . we’ve met—I’m Unzu from the other village—I’m much obliged to your husband for that cloth. . . .
TSŪ: . . . (Remains silent.)
SŌDO: Yes, well, what happened was . . . I heard about the cloth from him (Indicates Unzu.). . . . I’m Sōdo—from the same village—what I want to know is—pardon me asking—is it genuine Crane Feather Weave?
TSŪ: . . . (Remains silent. Stays watching them suspiciously; then suddenly, as if she had heard some sound, she wheels round and disappears into the back.)
SŌDO: . . . ?
UNZU: . . . ?
SŌDO: What do you . . .
UNZU: What was that? We spoke to her and . . .
SŌDO: She didn’t seem to understand a single word. . . . Everything about her’s just like a bird.
UNZU: You’re right. Just like a bird.
Pause. The dusk gradually deepens. Only the flames in the hearth flicker red.
SŌDO (looking at the crane feathers): You know . . . there are stories about cranes and snakes . . . how they sometimes take human shape and become men’s wives.
UNZU: What the . . .
SŌDO: Come to think of it . . . Ninji from the village had a story like that yesterday . . . he was passing by that lake in the mountains, in the early evening, four or five days ago, and there was a woman standing at the water’s edge, he said . . . he thought there was something strange about her, so he kept watching without letting her see him. He saw her glide into the water, and then— she turned into a crane. . . .
UNZU: Eh?
SŌDO: The crane played around in the water for a while. Then it changed back into a woman and glided away.
UNZU: Ah! (Runs out of the house.)
SŌDO: Hey! What’re you doing, screaming like that . . . (Instinctively he leaves the house too.)
UNZU: So . . . so . . . his wife . . . is . . . a crane?
SŌDO: Shut up you idiot! You don’t know that! Don’t be such a fool as to even mention it. . . .
